Born to Dance in the Dark
by KittalyKate
Summary: They'd never killed, never seen the stars. They were ecstatic to leave that dome and see the world, but they didn't understand why they had to take the girl. She knew even less than they did…that is, until Insomnia fell. As they traversed those deadly landscapes, the group uncovered secrets tucked away in forgotten corners of Lucis by Solheim and the gods.
1. Chapter 1

_For he comes, the human child,_

 _To the waters and the wild_

 _With a faery, hand in hand,_

 _For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand._

* * *

Ignis eased his foot off the gas pedal just as the sleek, white Bentley sedan swerved into their lane, threatening to clip off the driver's side headlight of the Star of Lucis. He bit back the curse he wanted to mutter under his breath, but he couldn't quite contain the thought that the driver could possibly utilize his five hundred chocopower engine to at least match the flow of traffic up the main road leading to the north side of the Citadel. Ignis was able to resist the temptation to lay on the horn. The Prince's car was well-known in this area, though not to everyone—apparently. And though one additional car blaring its horn in the tangled mass of metal fighting its way through the post lunch hour traffic would hardly attract attention, it wouldn't be seemly for the Prince's royal vehicle to be harassing Crown citizens.

Oblivious to Ignis's inner irritation, Noct leaned his head back against the warm leather seat, ignoring the flashes of crowded restaurants and shops that lined the street. They'd both traveled from Noct's apartment to the rear entrance of the Citadel often enough to know that it would only be a minute or so before the throngs of pedestrians scurrying between the gaps in traffic would give way to the guard station that would take them to the staff parking lot.

"Can't remember the last time I was in this car," Noct mumbled to himself.

Ignis adopted a light, pleasant tone. "It would have been about a month ago, I think."

"Not much reason to use this one since you're always carting me around in yours."

He let out a sigh of mock exasperation, rolling his eyes toward his ungrateful passenger. "Forgive me for working too hard."

The corner of Noct's lips twitched up into a smirk in response, and Ignis returned an amused smile, even if the statement was far truer than Noct could possibly know.

"So why this car today?"

"Captain Drautos mentioned wanting to use it to ferry guests to the signing ceremony. After we arrive at the Citadel, I shall entrust it to him."

Which seemed an odd request to Ignis. It wasn't as though there were a dearth of appropriate luxury vehicles in Lucis's capital city, so the need for Noct's car specifically must have come down to its additional features. The Star of Lucis was one of a handful of bulletproof vehicles in the city, suitable for protecting the Prince from any assassination attempts. Though Noct had protested the need for such a measure, Ignis had thought it wise of the King to take the precaution. It may have been twelve years since Niflheim's last two attempts on Prince Noctis's life, but that was no reason to let their guard down.

But even with the kingdom of Lucis finally due to sign a peace treaty with Niflheim after hundreds of years of conflict, Ignis silently wondered why Captain Drautos would need the two-seater vehicle to protect a driver and a single dignitary. The car was too small and low to the ground for a man as aged as the Emperor, and who else would need the protection? How many guests would they need to ferry _one_ at a time to the event?

Ignis shook his head ever so slightly to clear his thoughts as he turned into the drive that led to the lot and slowed just long enough for the guard to recognize them. To question the orders of superior officers was to question the King himself, and though his incessantly calculating mind never ceased wondering about the decisions made from the throne, he was wise enough to hold his tongue. King Regis Lucis Caelum and his line had founded and protected the kingdom of Lucis for two thousand years—against disease, invasion, natural disasters, and war. The word of a Caelum was law, their wisdom absolute.

Well, with one exception, in Ignis's private opinion.

Of course, every monarch required additional minds for successfully maneuvering the intricacies of leading a country through the complex state of affairs Lucis had found itself in within the last few decades. King Regis had an entire council of members learning all they could of diplomacy, international relations, economics, finances, production, trade, battle tactics, and myriad subjects besides in order to ensure he made the wisest decisions for his people in Insomnia and the outlands of Lucis—those settlements that lay beyond the magical wall that protected the capital city from Niflheim's war machines. Prince Noctis may have been too young to have chosen his future council, but his right-hand advisor had already been hand-picked by King Regis himself when the Prince had still been an infant.

Ignis was proud to serve his king and be responsible for the guiding and shaping of his next monarch—a position he took with the weight of fate itself even before Noct had been named the prophesied Chosen King of Light. But the secret thoughts stirring restlessly at the back of his head wondered if King Regis had also been this . . . sullen and unsure of himself at this age. As unconcerned as the King seemed to be with Noct's progress, Ignis supposed that it would only be a matter of time before Noct aged gracefully into adulthood and began properly taking over his many responsibilities as future leader of Lucis.

"Are you gonna let Prompto drive the Regalia?" Noct asked as they passed a shuttered garage door set between two massive concrete pillars, where the vehicle in question was stored until Ignis was due to pick it up later this afternoon for their journey tomorrow.

"He seemed quite keen to take the wheel. And what of yourself?"

As Ignis pulled into the space reserved for them at the front of the lot and put the car in park, he glanced over to see Noct smirking in the direction of the garage. "Think I'll pass. Probably best if you don't let him drive, either."

"There's no guarantee I'll be much better," Ignis reminded him before getting out. He waited until Noct shut the passenger door behind him before clicking the lock. "We're all beginners when it comes to driving outside the capital."

"Yeah, I guess."

As he held open the door to allow Noct to pass out of the humid May sunshine into the air-conditioned hall, Ignis allowed a glimmer of anticipation to seep into his tone. "I can't imagine what it'll be like out there."

"Yeah, me neither," Noct replied in a low, quiet voice, and it was only Ignis's years of experience handling his mercurial moods that alerted him to the underlying current of excitement in his muttering.

This would be a well-deserved respite for all four of them, surely—a break from the burdens of their positions and a chance to explore the world. With the exception of Noct's trip to Tenebrae to visit the Oracle for healing after the assassination attempt had failed when he was eight years old, none of them had even so much as taken a single step beyond the Wall. And while Insomnia was doubtless the center of architecture, art, and culture in the world, Ignis was eager to see for himself the bright white sands and turquoise seas of Galdin Quay, to taste the shellfish pulled fresh from the Cygillan Sea. Long had he entertained the fantasy of strolling the glimmering canals of Altissia, watching some of the most famed chefs in the world work as they made a sumptuous meal for him, and spending a leisurely afternoon coaxing the city's secret attractions to reveal themselves as he explored the paths less traveled. If only they had more time before the Prince was due to be at the wedding. They might have explored more of Lucis's outlands, perhaps even the Ravettrician and Terraverden continents.

There was so much he could learn of the world, and he was nearly on fire with the prospect of getting this chance to _know_ , but his more rational side kept him calm. The reality of the experience would likely be that he would spend the next three weeks wrestling three unruly children across the continent, keeping them from falling off the ferry, then attempting to avert a war every time the Prince opened his mouth once they arrived in Altissia. With both the host country and the bride's country loosely controlled by the Niflheim Empire, Ignis imagined tensions would be high until the treaty was signed and Noct's marriage to Lunafreya, Princess of Tenebrae and current Oracle, was finalized.

Ignis had only just recently learned in a letter from his mother that his father was from Tenebrae. Perhaps, before Noct returned from his honeymoon, Ignis could make the trip across the ocean to Terraverde and see his father's homeland with his own eyes before returning to his duties in Insomnia. He should certainly stop briefly in the outer Sorwester District on his way back into the city to pay his parents a visit, at the very least. He'd been three years old the last time he'd seen the sparsely forested outskirts where his parents resided just inside the Wall—saying a final goodbye to his father as his Uncle Caeli escorted him to his new life in the Crown City. It had only been since his mother had begun sending him letters in the last three years that Ignis had entertained the notion of visiting them, but his relentless workload had kept him from sating his curiosity surrounding the blood relatives he barely knew or remembered. This would be the first, and likely only, opportunity for quite some time to attempt a deeper connection with his family.

"Ignis," a sharp, authoritative voice called out from their left just as they entered the Citadel's entrance hall. Ignis stretched his neck to see over the throngs of harried clerks and Crownsguard rushing to and fro like a seething black river and spotted Titus Drautos—captain of the King's military unit, the Kingsglaive—striding toward them.

"Yes, sir?"

"Where's the car?" Captain Drautos asked in lieu of a greeting.

"In the parking lot."

Captain Drautos gestured for them to make their way to the bank of elevators at the rear of the polished onyx and gold-trimmed hall, but it wasn't until the dark, gilded doors slid shut on the small space with just the three of them inside that he spoke again.

"Make sure you're available at all times," he said in a low, strained tone, a frown tugging at his lips that deepened the stress lines forming around his mouth. "I can't say for sure when King Regis will be able to see you given his schedule."

Ignis attempted to stifle his surprise, as he'd been under the impression that they were to have met with the King immediately, but his eyes widened a fraction in reaction to the news nevertheless.

"I had no idea."

He wondered how this would affect the tight schedule he had put together for the remaining time they had before they left. The four of them were supposed to leave early tomorrow morning in order to make it to Galdin Quay by that evening. Exactly when was His Majesty going to find the time to speak to his son before sending him off to be married as the terms of the treaty demanded?

"Seriously?" Noct scowled from beside him, leaning further back into the corner and crossing his arms. "Whatever happened to meeting us now?"

Captain Drautos's cold grey-green eyes flicked briefly over to the Prince, but the silver medals adorning his captain's uniform clinked as he turned to direct his answer to Ignis instead. "An intruder somehow managed to infiltrate all the way to the throne without being spotted. We suspect magic."

"An assassination attempt before the signing?" Ignis asked, his voice softening in concern, but his tension eased somewhat when the captain shook his head immediately.

"The Crownsguard are reporting that they demanded nothing more than to speak to King Regis. Against their advice, the King chose to grant the audience in his private chambers. I'm going up there now to do some damage control."

"He . . . met privately with the intruder?" Ignis asked incredulously. Until the treaty was signed, Lucis and Niflheim were still technically at war. This person could have been sent to murder the one man whose life force and magic held the Wall strong above their heads, for all they knew. What could have possessed the King to dismiss his royal bodyguards' advice and entertain this guest during such a tumultuous time?

A ringing tone sounded above their heads as the doors slid open to reveal the Hall of History—a reminder of the weight of the undefined future that lay before the Caelum line just before the doors that led to the audience chamber where the King ruled from his gold and onyx throne.

"Seems like a lotta trouble to go through just to talk to him, but I guess that's what it takes these days," Noct mumbled bitterly as they stepped out of the elevator together. But his voice softened as he added, "Hope he's okay."

"It's my job to make sure the King gets to the signing ceremony in one piece, so you leave that to me," Captain Drautos replied. He began to veer off toward the hallway that led to the King's study, but Ignis stopped him.

"Captain."

Drautos halted and turned to face them. "Yes?"

A thousand questions were buzzing through Ignis's thoughts, but he could only think of one that would appropriately convey his fears out here in the open. "Is the date of the signing still undecided?"

The captain's expression tightened a fraction. "Unfortunately, yes."

Ignis furrowed his brow, looking down at the captain's polished Glaive boots as he let out a long sigh. "Unfortunate, indeed."

"I understand your anxieties," he said, already turning back in the opposite direction, "but King Regis has said he'd like to proceed with caution."

"Of course," Ignis replied under his breath to his retreating back, but a frisson of disquiet he couldn't quite resolve prickled at the hairs on the back of his neck. Honestly, though, he was being ridiculous. The King would never have agreed to this treaty had such measures not been what was the very best for his kingdom, surely. Their king would guide them through these troublesome times much as he had since before Ignis had been born; of that, he was certain.

"So when do you think Dad will meet with us?" Noct asked, looking up at him. They met each other's eyes for a moment before Noct let his attention wander over the bustling hall. "Guess we could go upstairs and get packed while we wait, but it could take forever with everything going on here."

Ignis ushered him toward the door to the audience chamber. "Let us see what we can find out, shall we?"

Sir Caeli Scientia was waiting for them precisely where he and Ignis had previously agreed to meet this afternoon—just to the left of the throne room door. He took a step forward when he spotted them approaching, his green eyes pulling down at the corners in an expression Ignis interpreted as severe stress and anxiety. Given today's events so far, Ignis hardly needed to ask after the cause.

Though technically a member of the King's organization of elite individuals assigned to the protection and needs of the Royal Family, Uncle Caeli's role in the Crownsguard leaned more towards the administerial and security-related aspects of managing the King's schedule. As such, his custom-designed Crownsguard uniform suited the formality of his position and his efficient, no-nonsense sense of style—a simple button-down with a crisp collar and a single-breasted three-piece suit in the royal black that had been associated with House Caelum since the founding of the kingdom.

"Prince Noctis," he greeted with a deep, formal bow. "You look well."

Noct grimaced slightly at the greeting but said in a more casual tone, "Hey, Mr. Scientia. Is my dad around?"

"Unfortunately, his . . . meeting has yet to adjourn," he replied with a slight wince, though Ignis couldn't tell if it was due to the Prince's neglect in using his title as he should or the circumstances at large. "You have my sincerest apologies, Your Highness."

"No worries," Noct said with a shrug.

Uncle Caeli raised his eyes to meet Ignis's, likely knowing full-well what havoc this would wreak on Ignis's tight schedule. "I'm sorry for the delay, Ignis. No one seems to know anything. The King dismissed all personnel from the entire suite surrounding his study and ordered that he is to be disturbed by no one until further notice."

"It's not your fault, Uncle."

"Yeah, we've got other things to do anyway," Noct said, but his voice grew quieter as he added, "How's he doing?"

Uncle Caeli frowned. "Exhaustion aside, he seems to be doing just fine."

"Can he still walk?"

"But of course."

Noct echoed his frown, doubtless worried for his father's health after the recent skirmishes with the Empire followed by this sudden desire for peace that required so much preparation. Maintaining the Wall that protected Lucis's capital city from daemons and ships of war alike required the life force of the eldest living Caelum—the only one capable of wielding the full force of his family line in the Royal Ring of Lucis. Even if the city itself weren't directly attacked, the King's life was also drained each time members of the Kingsglaive expended energy on magic to defend Insomnia beyond the Wall. From the reports Ignis had heard in Council meetings, several skirmishes with the Empire before the abrupt withdrawal of enemy forces and an offer of peace had taken quite a toll on His Majesty's already waning strength. For three years now, he'd been unable to summon his Royal Armiger and had been forced to use a cane to walk. Recent events could very well leave him incapacitated and unable to resist an invasion during one of Insomnia's most vulnerable points in history, if they weren't all very careful with this treaty.

"Great," Noct mumbled half-heartedly, turning back toward the elevator that would lead them to the top of the northwest tower, where the royal apartments were situated. Ignis nodded his thanks to his uncle before taking a step to follow behind his charge, but Uncle Caeli's hand shot out to touch him on the arm, stalling his exit.

"Ignis, I will contact you once His Majesty has a moment."

"Much appreciated," he said with a nod. "For now, we'll be on our way to the prince's quarters."

"I suppose I should consider our 'weekly lunches' cancelled for the time being," Uncle Caeli replied, a slight smile bringing an indulgent twinkle to his eyes, "at the very least until you return."

Ignis blew a gentle huff of a laugh through his nose. They had "scheduled" a weekly lunch to update one another on their lives for as long as he could remember, but their conflicting schedules had only allowed a handful of such meetings to actually take place over the course two decades.

Ignis let out in a rush before his wayward charge could call an elevator without him, "We'll schedule something for certain when I return—you have my word."

"I'm holding you to that," he heard Uncle Caeli call out softly as he strode to catch up with Noct.

He managed to step into the elevator just before the doors shut behind him without appearing too rushed, but Noct flashed him a rueful smirk at failing to leave him behind and make him wait for another lift.

"You're gonna have to pick up the pace if you wanna keep up with me out there," Noct teased.

Ignis lifted his chin and reached beneath the edge of his blazer sleeve to adjust his left cuff. "I believe I'm equal to the task. I'm here, am I not?"

"Barely."

When the door slid open again, the two of them moved simultaneously to step off the lift, but a pair of Crownsguard seeking to enter before checking to ensure that it was empty impeded their way.

"Oh, good afternoon, Your Highness," the first guard said, stepping off to the side to allow them to pass and dipping his head in a bow as his partner mimicked the gesture.

"Afternoon," Noct mumbled, looking away. He waited until they had walked several feet down the long hallway lined with dark, closed doors before he added in a lower voice, "I can't stand that."

"Being greeted?" he asked amusedly, but half his attention had zeroed in on the sound of thudding boots on carpet headed quickly in their direction from up ahead.

Noct shook his head, seemingly oblivious to the sound. "Not that. All the formality, bowing their heads all the time . . .."

He was unable to complete his thought. Just as they turned the corner, two Kingsglaive—judging by the thigh-length, high-collared, silver-detailed military coat of the man and the form-fitting body suit and jacket of the woman—nearly collided with them as they headed in the opposite direction. The man's shoulder clipped his own as he passed, jerking his body roughly in their direction.

"Pardon me," Ignis said politely.

His tensed hands had relaxed at the sight of the uniforms, but he still eyed the dark-haired woman in particular, wondering why a mage would be posted for guard duty, of all things. Then again, with the King ordering the Glaive to the palace for the signing and the Crownsguard to assist the Crown City Police with crowd control, he supposed that no one was where they should be at a time like this.

"You okay?" the Glaive asked over his shoulder, not stopping to truly check, but the woman turned around, walking backward to meet their gaze.

"Sorry 'bout that," the mage added, her dark eyes still glittering with what appeared to be fading mirth.

"Eyes forward," the Glaive barked softly, and she wiggled her brows at the two of them before spinning around to continue on her way.

For his part, Ignis could only flash Noct a wry smile. "It seems not everyone is capable of a proper greeting." As he turned back for a final glance toward the retreating pair, he added by way of explanation, "Those are Kingsglaive uniforms . . .."

Noct followed his gaze with interest before they disappeared around another corner. "Oh, yeah?"

He realized that if Noct was incapable of recognizing Glaive uniforms on sight, he likely hadn't caught his implication, either. "They aren't from the Crown City. Perhaps they don't know who you are."

Noct nodded to the door they had reached as he pulled out a small gold key and unlocked it. "No way they'd see me if they're always hanging around the Citadel."

Of course, had Noct truly spent much time here, he might have realized that the Glaive were never assigned to guard the Citadel, as that task had always been appointed to the Crownsguard. No, before the proposal of the peace treaty, the Glaive had always been on the front lines of the war with Niflheim, and their appearance here inside the Citadel just before the signing seemed a troubling show of bad faith, in Ignis's opinion. But he chose to forgo a chastising remark on the Prince's ignorance of basic government structure in favor of picking at the source of that ever-present sense of disquiet following him around today like a shadow.

"I imagine the Empire's terms leave them with mixed feelings."

Noct paused in front of the unlocked door for a moment, his brow furrowing. "Everything out there'll belong to Niflheim, huh."

"Precisely," Ignis said with a nod and a touch of relief that their future king had ruminated on the broader implications of this treaty beyond his marriage to Lady Lunafreya. While nearly all of Lucis's economic presence resided in the protected capital city of Insomnia, the kingdom spanned the entire continent. Hardly anyone knew of what business went on in the outlands beyond what little culture the immigrant Kingsglaive brought with them, as any immigration into the city for any purposes beyond military need had been banned over three decades ago. Ignis had heard brief mentions that outlanders were dissatisfied with Niflheim's demand that Lucis cede all territories beyond Insomnia's Wall to them, but as far as he could tell, no one had given the matter much attention or had even verified the sentiment beyond hearsay.

"Well, they live in Insomnia now, right?"

"Even so," Ignis replied, stifling his disappointment, "their homes will cease to be a part of Lucis. The news must be shocking to say the least."

"Yeah . . ., good point." He opened the door and stepped inside the parlor, the boots of his hardly-worn Prince's fatigues echoing off the parquet wooden floor and the walls of the mostly-empty space. He gestured to the high, arched doors along the far end of the wall that led to his childhood bedroom. "Anyway, just pack whatever you think I'll need."

Ignis released a weary sigh as he strode to the bedroom and pushed on the handle to open the door. "If you insist. But I expect you to sort through it later."

Technically speaking, it wasn't his responsibility to act as the Prince's valet. His duties encompassed a variety of functions, all of which he'd been trained to perform perfectly from the age of three. Ignis was to see to the Prince's grooming for his future role—his education, his nutrition, his finances, his household, and how he conducted himself as a member of the Royal Family. He was responsible for giving the Prince advice when he felt he needed it, and he was to serve as a tactician and strategist should the situation have need of one.

But Ignis had also given his word to King Regis at the age of six when he first began his assignment—that he would always, no matter what, care for his son. That promise had brought him no end of grief and confusion in the following years, and not only because his rigorous and extensive education and impeccable skills in several vital fields had been truncated as a result of keeping it. It seemed that keeping his word also required him to cook and clean up after the somewhat indolent adolescent.

And, it would seem, assist him in packing his suitcase.

"You know," Noct said after a while, pausing in haphazardly dumping whatever lay within arm's reach into his bulging bag as Ignis made an attempt to straighten things and take stock of what they still needed. "I think I spent more time sneaking out of this room than I actually spent in it."

Ignis chuckled. "Indeed. And it wasn't uncommon for me to go with you. Every excursion was more nerve-wracking than the last."

"Y'know," Noct smirked, giving him a good-natured shove, "I remember someone there, but he was always in a bad mood, trying to get me to read." But the playful expression faded from his features as his voice grew softer, as though he were mostly speaking to himself. "It was cause I hated being stuck in here. I couldn't get a moment alone."

"Everyone was worried about you."

"Yeah, I know."

"Before you sustained that injury, you were a much livelier child," he said carefully, hoping the Prince might open up some about the experience, but not daring to expect a true answer.

"I didn't really talk much after it happened, huh?"

He certainly hadn't. It was as though the vivacious child Ignis had helped the palace staff to raise over the last three and a half years had died, and instead, he had been charged with looking after a withdrawn and sullen—almost combative—youth. Every once in a while, Ignis thought he spotted glimpses of the boy that had once been so eager to please, eager to be loved. Those moments came few and far between, but they were enough to keep his faith despite never once being thanked for his monumental efforts.

"Even I was perplexed at your radical change."

Noct's sapphire eyes shot to his, widening in surprise. "Really?"

Ignis looked down at the lumpy bag lying defeated on the four-poster bed in front of them and began removing some of the spare shirts to roll so they would take up less space—though the action hardly mattered. They would likely be depending on the armiger to store their clothing once they were out on the road—if Noct could manage the rather tricky task of adjusting it to include such items.

"Indeed," he replied in a gentle tone. "Which is why I had no choice but to accompany you whenever you left this room." Despite the consequences to himself. But he cast the stray thought aside. "I always hoped these spontaneous 'excursions' would one day come to a peaceful end," he continued in a more jovial tone, "yet my hopes were dashed."

Noct had meandered over to the window bench, where Ignis used to read his astronomy book to him on nights he couldn't sleep as they dreamed of one day seeing real stars. He looked out the window onto the sprawling expanse of the city below, lost in thought, but he let out a short laugh at Ignis's words.

"Ha! I remember. You took the fall for everything."

"I was reprimanded for 'absconding' with you away from the Citadel."

Noct's voice grew softer as Ignis wandered toward the far wall, his eyes roaming over the shelves for anything they might have missed in packing. "My bad. You were doing me a favor and got blamed for it anyway."

"I was simply doing my job. I have no regrets on the matter—not even now. Hm? What's this?"

A flash of icy blue had caught his eye amidst the chaos of Noct's possessions, and he reached up to pluck the object carefully from the shelf without disturbing the rest of the mess. When he brought it in for closer inspection, he recognized the small wooden figurine as an ornament that King Regis had given the Prince as a child—a totem of one of the Messengers of the gods said to protect House Caelum since its founding.

"Carbuncle. I haven't seen this in ages."

Noct looked over from his seat by the window. "Let's take it with us."

"It's an important keepsake, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Noct shrugged. "I figure it'll at least keep us safe on the road."

Ignis walked to the bed and tucked the figurine carefully between two of the t-shirts he'd just rolled. He knew well the value of talismans held up before a man as a vanguard against the darkness from his own secret experience. A pang of regret shot through him that his was too large to carry with him on their journey, but he dismissed the thought. It wasn't as though he'd be leaving it behind for good, and he _was_ bringing along evidence of his mother's favor, at least—his own reminder of home.

"I wouldn't take this little lucky charm so lightly. It brought you back from the brink of death, didn't it?"

Noct may not have breathed a word to anyone about the specific events that had led to his nanny's death and his extensive injury, but Ignis was one of two people on this planet Noct had told of his vision as he'd lain in a coma after the attempt on his life as a child. Even though they were alone at the moment, Ignis still noted that Noct's eyes widened somewhat in alarm before he relaxed into nonchalance once more. "Maybe in my dreams, at least."

His reluctance to speak of the Messenger leading him back to the land of the living was made clear as he turned toward the heavy wooden closet door, glanced inside, and changed the subject.

"What else do I need . . .," he muttered to himself.

Ignis suppressed the snort of derision threatening to escape him. "A sword?" he suggested carefully.

"Good call." He disappeared into the back of the small closet for several seconds, and Ignis winced at the sound of thudding, clanging, and shifting emanating from the open door until Noct finally emerged, the engine blade he'd received as a gift from his father gripped in his hand. It appeared to be in terrible condition. Rust had accumulated where the blade met the scabbard, and he was willing to wager that the edge was as dull as a butter knife. He made a mental note to add blade sharpening to his list as soon as he had the chance. His own could use a once-over at the same time.

"I remember training with this."

"There was hardly a moment of peace around here after you received it."

"Yeah," he said as he laid it on the bed next to his bag. A gentle laugh tumbled from his lips before he said, "But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get the blade-warp down."

"If you hadn't sustained that injury from the attack, I imagine it might've been much easier for you. You did quite well for yourself regardless," he said diplomatically.

Noct's tone grew brittle. "I didn't really have much of a choice."

But Ignis wouldn't stand for wallowing in self-pity as was often the Prince's wont. Their fates had all been pre-determined, but that was no reason to languish in misery. Millions of lives depended on them to do whatever was required whenever the time came for the Chosen King to act, and they had to be prepared as best they could so that they could rise to whatever that occasion demanded.

"Certainly," he agreed.

Noct's scathing response was forestalled when a single, soft vibration sounded from Ignis's left breast pocket. He made an apologetic gesture to Noct before reaching into his blazer and answering.

"Hello? This is Ignis."

"It's Caeli," his uncle replied. "I'm calling from one of the desks downstairs, as an inductee managed to crush my phone yesterday with a stray practice staff. No matter. I was instructed to tell you that His Majesty will be unable to meet with the Prince today."

"I see."

"The aides have informed me that the baggage with all your dress uniforms are ready and waiting in the antechamber off the ballroom. I suggest you check to ensure everything is correct, and then meet me in the Hall of History again—alone. King Regis had a special request of you to personally carry out before you left for the day."

"Understood," he said firmly, though his mind was racing with curiosity. "I'll be right there."

As he ended the call and replaced his phone, Ignis said to Noct, "I've just been informed that His Majesty is too busy to meet with us today."

Noct's eyes dropped to the floor at his feet as though contemplating the complexity of his artfully mismatched boots. "Huh."

The Prince clearly felt more than he was vocalizing at his father's rebuff, but there wasn't the time for gentle reassurance today. "I'm going to check on the baggage for the ceremony. Please sort through your belongings in the meantime."

"Got it."

Ignis turned and swiftly strode out of the room, leaving Noct standing motionless in front of his overfull bag.

* * *

Once Ignis had ensured that the Royal Raiment and their formal Kingsglaive uniforms for the wedding were complete and properly packed, he proceeded directly to the Hall of History to meet his uncle. His dark blonde hair was easy to spot over the lines of people passing one another on the polished stone paths between the Zen gardens lining the room. He was standing in the alcove leading to the audience chamber, fixing Ignis with a steady, serious expression. To Ignis's surprise, he leaned in to grasp the door's handle as Ignis drew closer.

"His Majesty is with the Marshal and a recruit at the moment, but he instructed me to let you in as soon as you arrived. He said that you should watch and stay out of the way," he said, opening the throne room door.

Ignis bowed his head slightly, concealing his shock and curiosity at the turn of events as he breezed through the open door. "Thank you, Uncle," he said in a low voice.

Modulating his steps so that they wouldn't echo in the vast throne room, he came to a stop about halfway inside the darkened room, along the wall and near one of Crownsguard on duty. They met each other's eyes briefly, and Ignis nodded in greeting. He believed the man's name was Iulius, but he couldn't be certain, as Ignis's presence with the Crownsguard had always had to come second to his primary function as Noct's senior advisor. His induction into the group of elite agents had been voluntary on his behalf—what he considered a necessary measure for properly doing his job.

He looked up to the throne, squinting into the thick shafts of afternoon light streaming in from the towering windows on either side of the throne to illuminate the far end of the long room. At the apex of the split, curving staircase sat King Regis, staring down at a man and a girl standing on the landing of the stairs below him. The man, at least, Ignis knew well—Cor Leonis, Marshal of the Crownsguard. Ignis frequently sparred with him and found him to be a formidable foe, impossible to touch. Even Gladio, recently named the future King's Shield and admittedly more skilled in combat than Ignis himself, had never managed to best him in mock battle.

"Cor," King Regis said in an oddly light, amused tone, "I've been running Laura through a series of tests to assess her readiness for her latest assignment. She's already proven herself by sneaking past my security. Why don't you see if her weapons skills are sufficient?"

Ignis's eyes shifted over to "Laura" in surprise. He couldn't see much from his position, but he guessed her to be somewhere between the ages of sixteen to twenty-four, judging by the outline of her face. Had this _girl_ been the cause of such a stir among the command structure of both the Glaive and Guard this afternoon? Certainly, there had to be more to the story, as he doubted the King would be assigning her to missions had she been a mere intruder. The infiltration must have been a premeditated operation orchestrated by His Majesty beforehand to test both the Crownsguard and the girl, with the girl emerging the victor, clearly.

The hood on her dark blue velvet cloak was pulled down to reveal her long hair, so black that it was nearly blue. The silhouette of her full gown made her appear more at home here in the throne room than in a combat situation, and he wondered how she had managed to sneak past the palace's considerable security wearing such a garment.

"Yes, your Majesty. Would you prefer I run her in a practice room, or here in the throne room?" Cor asked.

"Here. I would like to watch personally."

While Ignis was mostly successful in maintaining a neutral expression, a single eyebrow twitched up involuntarily before he smoothed his features once more. He himself had never been asked to display his weapons prowess in front of the King in such a manner, and no one he had heard of had been tested in the throne room in front of an entire shift of Crownsguard. Circumstances of late were hardly routine, but for what assignment could the King possibly be considering this girl that such a drastic measure was necessary? He had to admit that he was curious as to why the King should decline an audience with his son the day before he left and then wish Ignis to witness this.

After retrieving his notebook and fountain pen from his jacket pocket, he turned to the first page and readied himself to take notes should they be necessary.

As Cor and the girl moved to the main floor so they would have more room, Ignis was able to see her face more clearly. She was obviously high nobility with that coloring; her thick black lashes rimmed almond-shaped eyes that glowed bright blue against her fair skin. To Ignis, she appeared as though she could be Noct's sister. But she was also pale and wide-eyed. She even looked as though she were shaking a little. Was she ill? Perhaps she was nervous regarding her upcoming trial. Ignis had to admit that he would be if he were in her position.

He ran his eyes up her form—shrewdly assessing her as an opponent. She was slightly tall for a woman, but small and lithe. No doubt she would be quick with a blade if she had the skill. Even if there was no hope of beating her opponent, it was possible she would make a good showing—perhaps even wearing that gown that was so inappropriate for combat.

The girl shed her cloak and placed it neatly on the newel post of the stairs that led from the throne. It seemed that along with the additional bulk of the long swathe of blue velvet, she had also relinquished what little imposing regality she had in her bearing. Though her midnight blue gown was obviously of the finest make of embroidered silk, her body appeared even smaller and more vulnerable without the rest of her ensemble.

The Marshal had summoned his katana while he waited for her to quickly pull her hair into a thick plait, and again, Ignis worked to conceal his shock at the weapon he'd pulled. Skilled though Ignis was in bladework, he'd only just begun sparring with partners using live blades. To use a battle-ready weapon in a friendly spar was often unnecessary and highly dangerous—a technique to be showcased by only the finest blademasters, or at the very least, implemented with _extreme_ caution by an expert.

Her braiding complete, the girl turned to face the Marshal, her stance signaling that she was ready for an attack, but Ignis could see no weapons in her hands or on her person. He allowed himself a small, secret smile. This girl was sneaky. She must have the ability to summon and was waiting for the last moment to bring her weapon into existence so the Marshal couldn't gain information about her fighting style from her choice of blade.

The Marshal trotted lightly forward to launch his attack, but he waited until the very last moment to make an offensive move in order to gain back some advantage after showing his hand so early. It wasn't until he had nearly reached her that she pulled out her weapons—two gleaming silver-white falchions with curved blades and delicately sculpted basket hilts of leaves and vines. But Ignis didn't believe it was the weapons themselves that shocked the Marshal into faltering in his advance; it was the way the world seemed to shift to accommodate her wish. Unlike when Ignis would use his own ability to access the Crystal's magic through his bond with Noct and summon his daggers, the very air seemed to shiver and shriek in protest as the blades appeared, and even she winced a little, as though she weren't expecting the sound. His hesitation so subtle that even Ignis's keen eyes barely caught it, the Marshal pushed forward and met her falchions with a clang of metal on metal that echoed through the vast throne room.

The girl appeared to choose a defensive tactic at first, spinning to the side with the Marshal's every thrust and advance. She held her blades out at the ready, but not once did she strike out with them except to defend against his katana. To Ignis, it appeared as though she were dancing, her every move kicking up the heavy fabric of her gown and sending it swirling in a wave of blue and gold embroidery. Her dress seemed not to hinder her in the slightest as she twisted away from his blade, whirling almost faster than Ignis's eye could track and stopping at the Marshal's back. She could have ended the contest right there, but she chose to back up and allow him to turn around, her posture assuming a defensive position once again as she held her falchions out at the ready.

After several more minutes of avoiding the Marshal's blows, her strategy shifted suddenly to offensive, though Ignis could spot no visual clue as to the reason for the change. As she reached above her head with both blades to meet the full strength of the Marshal's attack with her eyes full of fire, Ignis thought for a fleeting moment that he had never seen a more stunning display of graceful savagery. He'd witnessed varying levels of skill in bladework since he was a child, had studied the art extensively since he was a teenager, and had apprenticed under some of the finest blademasters of the Crownsguard—including the Marshal himself. This measured and precise art practiced in such a manner, with such elegant poise, was a demonstration Ignis could certainly appreciate. He himself had often sought additional methods to improve his form, so he made a note to inquire after her trainer when he returned from Altissia.

The moment their three blades clashed, the girl lowered one of her swords to graze the flat against the Marshal's throat—a touch and a point for her. The Marshal staggered back slightly before advancing again, his katana a blur of motion. She ducked beneath the strike and swept a leg out, but Ignis could tell that she was too far away to make contact and trip him. Had she done that deliberately to alert the Marshal of a potential weakness? If so, it was quite an insolent move to execute in the middle of a trial meant for her.

At this point, her onslaught became swift and vicious, but still, she didn't seem eager to end the contest. Despite watching her touch the Marshal five more times, Ignis knew from observing her defensive measures that she could move faster than she was and could end this on her whim. Was she _toying_ with him?

The Marshal appeared to be tiring, his blocks growing slower as she continued to make strike after strike, stepping forward as he began to give ground. Sensing his weakness, the girl leapt at him, batting his sword to the side with her left blade.

Though Ignis felt the buzz of a text alert in his left breast pocket, he ignored it in favor of keeping every iota of his attention on the conclusion of this display, his breath catching ever so slightly as the Marshal crashed to the floor on his back. They skidded several inches across the smooth floor until the pair came to rest with her perched over him, his right arm trapped beneath her left falchion, his left trapped beneath her knee, and her right falchion at his throat. The fabric of her ornate gown pooled over the Marshal's legs and on the floor around them like a puddle of water.

The vast hall, so prone to echoing at even the slightest of movements, had gone utterly still and silent for several moments—each of the twelve members of the Crownsguard shift and the King himself stunned—and Ignis wondered who would be the first to break the spell that seemed to hold the room captive.

"Sorry," the girl murmured almost subserviently.

The Marshal let out a sudden bark of laughter that caused at least three of the Guard to flinch at the unexpected sound. "Don't be." He continued to chuckle as she moved off him. "It's good to be defeated every now and then. Reminds me never to grow complacent."

The air shrieked again in a flash of silver light as she placed her blades back into thin air, and Ignis's attention remained on the spot where they had disappeared for several seconds. Her action didn't appear to be standard of the Crystal magic every Glaive and Guard used to store their weapons in a personal armiger. But all magic on the planet, so far as Ignis knew, was bequeathed to the people from the Crystal via the King. If hers didn't originate from that source, then where did it come from?

The girl offered a hand to help the Marshal up, and as he straightened to his full height, he gazed imperiously around the throne room at the Crownsguard, who stood open-mouthed at their posts at regular intervals toward the visitor's door.

"Don't think this means you all will be so lucky," he grunted before catching Ignis's eyes. "Ignis."

"Marshal," he replied, bowing slightly before realizing he had not yet greeted His Majesty. He placed his pen and notebook in his blazer pocket and walked straight-backed to the stairs. The girl was still breathing heavily against her corset when he stopped by her side, but he didn't spare her a second glance as he crossed his right arm over his chest and bowed deeply.

"Your Majesty."

As he slowly raised his eyes and straightened from his bow, Ignis immediately noted that King Regis's demeanor had completely transformed from the exhausted, distracted man Ignis had occasionally observed and the staff had constantly described since the proposal for the treaty had unexpectedly been brought forth by none other than Imperial Chancellor Izunia himself. Though he still appeared overworked to Ignis's eyes, King Regis smiled easily down at him. He sincerely hoped that meant the King had made progress with the treaty negotiations this afternoon.

"Ahh, Ignis, my boy. Thank you for coming. Please have my son and the retinue meet me here tomorrow morning before you leave. I should like to see you all off, and I have a few things to say to my son before he sets out to meet his bride."

Another buzz vibrated in his pocket, but he again ignored it. "Of course, Your Majesty. I shall have him ready as early as is possible for His Highness."

It was likely that Ignis would have to drag the Prince out of bed and toss him bodily into the car, as early as they were expected to leave tomorrow. He sighed inwardly. It was going to be yet another sleepless night.

"And as a last-minute addition, I ask that you take Laura here with you tomorrow," he said, gesturing to the girl. "As you have no doubt noticed, she has . . . skills, which will serve you well on your journey."

Ignis suppressed the desire to let his mouth drop open as he stared up at his liege. His Majesty had been testing her for their journey? Did he really believe they would need _that_ much combat expertise to attend the Prince's wedding, even located as it was in Niflheim-occupied territory? Gladio was already coming with them, and Ignis himself was more than proficient with his daggers. The treaty was to be signed in a matter of days, so who was the King expecting them to meet?

Still, it wasn't his place to question His Majesty's orders. The King's word was the word of the gods in the Crown City.

Ignis turned to the girl, bowing slightly. "Ignis Scientia, at your service. It is an honor and a pleasure to meet your acquaintance." Now that he could see her face more clearly, he thought there was something familiar about her eyes. Frustrated that he couldn't place where he knew her from, he added, "Forgive me; do you know where I might recognize you from? You appear familiar, but I'm afraid I can't quite place from where."

Her voice was soft as she replied in an accent similar to his own, "I believe I've seen you in the library in the past couple of days." Judging by her elocution and demeanor, she was most certainly from a noble family of formal education and classical upbringing.

He didn't specifically recall seeing her among the rows of books, but he supposed it was possible that his subconscious mind had recalled what his conscious recollection had not. "That's a possibility. I've been in the stacks for long stretches recently, researching the areas we're to be traveling through for our journey," he replied smoothly.

And he hadn't slept a full night through in weeks. He desperately hoped that the temporary relinquishment of his clerical duties in the Citadel would allow him more time to sleep on the road, as he wasn't certain how many more cans of Ebony his body would allow before committing mutiny.

"So you're acquainted. Very good," King Regis said almost jovially, and they both looked up to the throne. "I shall see you all back here tomorrow morning then."

Ignis disagreed with his king's definition of "acquainted," but bowing low, he said instead, "Tomorrow morning, Your Majesty." He nodded farewell to the Marshal and the girl before turning on his heel and striding out.

There was still so much to accomplish by tomorrow morning—even more now than there had been several minutes ago. He still needed to pick up the Regalia from the royal garage, exchange enough crowns into gil that they might spend the night in Galdin before setting sail, and assist Noct with packing up his apartment—and those were just the tasks he needed to complete within the next few hours. He still needed to put the finishing touches on his own packing, and if he was fortunate, flatter his neighbor into looking after the plant he kept on his windowsill. It was bad luck his apartment wasn't Noct's. Their cleaning party this evening would have gone much more efficiently had they been required to pack up Ignis's spartan domicile instead.

He would have to move quickly if he was to accomplish everything necessary before they left, and he had a feeling that the two texts he received were merely going to add to his list of things to do.

When he pulled out his phone just outside the throne room, Ignis saw that he'd received a text message from Captain Drautos, informing him that a Glaive by the name of Nyx Ulric would have a car waiting out front to take the Prince home to his apartment. The second text was from Gladio, informing him that he'd been required to meet with his family for a special parting supper and that he may be late to Noct's apartment-cleaning party that evening. The confirmation from Gladio's father, the King's Shield and Prime Minister, that the Crownsguard had indeed been taken off duty in the Citadel in favor of the Kingsglaive and placed on external patrol for the signing troubled Ignis, but at this point, so much had been troublesome of this entire affair that he found himself wishing this journey were already over if only it meant the treaty were signed and peace could truly be declared.

Ignis let out a sigh and called Noct as he made his way to the elevator that would take him to his office several floors below. The very first thing he had to do was make a list of everything that needed to be taken care of with a fifth member in their party now accompanying them.

"Hello?" Noct answered.

"Just me. Have you finished packing?"

"Yep."

"Then please be on your way home. I'm running a little late."

There was a pause at the end of the line before Noct said, "No problem. Did something happen?"

"Nothing serious," Ignis answered, figuring he could tell the Prince the news of their newest retinue member this evening. "There's simply more to do than I anticipated. It's just a matter of time until I can wrap things up here."

"All right," Noct said morosely, and Ignis felt a pang of sympathy that he was likely still disappointed in his father's behavior today, but still—there wasn't the time to address the matter thoroughly.

"Captain Drautos said there should be a car waiting for you outside."

"Got it."

Guessing Noct's reaction before the words had even left his lips, he said, "Gladio will be late as well. It might be a good idea to start cleaning before we arrive."

"Right . . .."

"I'll be there as soon as I can to assist."

* * *

Ignis pressed the call button to the lift and fought the urge to lean against the wall and close his eyes. He was running later than he'd planned. Astrals, he despised running late. As it was, he'd left several errands off his to-do list just to make it to Noct's apartment as early as he had. But it seemed that no matter how many tasks he accomplished, dropped, or rescheduled, another three would insert themselves onto his lists. It was his responsibility to ensure that _everything_ involving the Prince's end of this bargain between two warring countries went smoothly—for the future of Lucis. Should anything go wrong . . . well, he couldn't afford to think of such things. He would just have to accomplish the impossible.

"Hey Ignis!"

Recognizing the bubbling, enthusiastic voice, Ignis turned in the direction of the call. A flash of swooped blonde hair streaked toward him and halted awkwardly just inside Ignis's personal space. He took a single step back so that he could greet his acquaintance properly.

"Prompto."

"Did you just get here?"

The lift door opened, and the two of them stepped inside. "Indeed. Were you able to see your parents?"

"Nah," Prompto said with a casual shrug that didn't fool Ignis for a second, "they weren't home."

"That's unfortunate," he said gently.

Prompto gave another half-shrug as he shifted from foot to foot, inspecting the display that announced the number of each floor as they ascended. "No biggie. I'm used to it."

Ignis knew from watching Noct that the son of constantly busy parents never truly grew accustomed to being disappointed. Though Ignis hadn't approved of Prompto's influence in Noct's life—he encouraged the boy to neglect his duties far more than Noct was already inclined to do—Ignis had a feeling that perhaps their shared experience with absent parents was what had initially brought them together five years ago.

"By the way, Gladio packed a ton of stuff for the road," Prompto said.

"The camping equipment?"

"Well, he had a bunch of stuff out, and when I asked what he needed it for, he said 'cooking.'"

Ignis looked away and let out a breath through his nose. He wasn't certain how it had happened. He'd only picked up the skill because he'd wanted to make Noct smile again after his injury, but it had somehow morphed into a lifelong responsibility of keeping him fed and well-nourished. The truth was that Ignis held no great love for cooking, contrary to his reputation. It was simply another means by which even duty-oriented men like Gladio could tease him, thereby lessening the value of his other considerable talents by comparison. Ignis wasn't known about the Crown City as a blade expert or a skilled strategist with an eidetic memory. He was the cold, robotic shadow of the Prince who wore glasses and cooked.

It hardly mattered. Ignis had spent his entire life ignoring gossip and rumors of all sorts flitting around the Citadel in favor of concentrating on his own performance, but it was more than wearisome when even close acquaintances behaved as though the rumors were true.

"I suppose he intends for me to use them," he breathed out heavily.

"Do you cook a lot, Ignis?"

He frowned, not knowing how to respond. A normal amount, perhaps? Didn't everyone cook for themselves at least once or twice a day? "I wouldn't say 'a lot.'"

"Y'know, Noct let me have a bite of his dinner once. Oh, and one of those pastry things you're always making."

He didn't wish to rise to the bait Prompto had laid out for him, but he couldn't help himself. Despite his reputation for being a chef, Ignis had _only_ cooked for himself and Noct, and Noct had never been particularly forthcoming with praise—only complaints regarding his gratuitous use of vegetables.

"And?"

The elevator rang its arrival as though to punctuate Prompto's exclamation. "It was amazing!"

"Is that so?" he said, raising an eyebrow, but he was secretly pleased someone else thought so, even if the occasional experience eating out with the two of them had proven that Prompto never complained about food of any sort.

Prompto nearly tripped over the lip of the elevator door in his haste to exit, but he managed to right himself with minimal flailing and looked up at Ignis with a bright smile. "Yeah! I was hopin' that's what it'd be like at camp, but you usually cook in a real kitchen, right? I can't imagine what it's gonna be like on the road."

As he led them down the hall toward Noct's apartment, Ignis was about to reply that he didn't anticipate having any troubles should the need even arise, but Prompto didn't pause long enough for him to respond. "So I asked Noct, and he said there was nothin' to worry about. Now I can't wait to have more of your meals, Iggy!"

He chuckled softly, pleased despite being drafted for the task to see Prompto's appreciation shining in his cerulean eyes. "Well, I certainly don't want to disappoint. I might as well ask your preferences."

Prompto twisted his mouth in thought. "Well, I like sweets, but real food's good, too. Spicy food and . . . well, I'll eat anything, really. Even weird stuff."

"Understood. I was hoping to experiment with local ingredients if we get the opportunity to camp, so I'm glad you can keep an open mind."

As Ignis pressed the button on the intercom to alert Noct to their arrival, Prompto took three hopping steps toward the apartment door, grinning madly. "No problem at all!"

"Be right there," came Noct's bleary mumble from the speaker. If Ignis guessed correctly, Noct hadn't spent the last several hours cleaning but had likely just been awoken from another of his languorous cat naps.

It appeared that a very long night lay ahead of them.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Please excuse my dust. This fic is under construction! The plot won't change, but I hope to enrich the characterization and improve the writing some. As such, there may be slight discrepancies between chapters. As of March 25, 2020, I have redone up to Chapter 34. I'll keep updating this message as I progress.

This will NOT be a straight novelization of the game. There are some points where I will heavily use dialogue, but there is also the vast majority that is original work. I made the decision to pull dialogue from Prologue Parting Ways because I've discovered most haven't read it, and I want everyone to start off on the same foot, as some of these plot points are important to the story. Also, the game is quite different in other languages due to localization...idiosyncrasies, especially English. Despite this, I will be using English characterization and dialogue for the most part unless otherwise noted.

Poem excerpt is from _The Stolen Child_ by W.B. Yeats.

I realize Insomnia uses yen in game, but I reject that notion. They use Lucian crowns now.

As a general rule, the official timeline of the game is pretty much shot in this story. The signing ceremony is a couple of weeks after they leave Insomnia, car trips take as long as I feel like they do, and other historical non-canonicity. As a matter of fact, I tend to toy with canon and non-canon interchangeably a lot in this story, so it would be safer to ask me if you want to verify something. I'm always up for discussing the lore of this game! I suppose I should also warn you all that I've messed with characters and their backstories a bit to allow for an even progression of character growth throughout the story, but hopefully not so much as to be completely implausible.

I'd also like to thank the FFXV reddit Discord moderators, BA and OS, for all the help they've given me on this piece between lore and headcanon discussions. I've thanked them "in person" for all the information they've given me, even if I didn't strictly follow all the canon they've so painstakingly told me, but I'd like to acknowledge here how amazing, kind, and helpful they are.


	2. Chapter 2

Noct flopped onto the couch, wiping the sheen of sweat from underneath his black bangs and wiggling a little as the dark cushion sank under his weight until it threatened to swallow him whole.

He'd miss this couch. The massive sectional was perfect for getting together with Prompto (and sort of Ignis), pulling the TV out of his room, and just kicking back with a good game for a few hours. The problem was that "couches" didn't exist in the Citadel. They were all "sofas" or "settees," the kind with carved wooden arms he couldn't lean against or fancy fabric he wasn't allowed to put his feet up on. He guessed settees were all he had to look forward to when he got back from this trip—one last hurrah before his preordained life started kicking in.

"Takin' a break already?" Gladio's complaint cut through Noct's sigh, and Noct flicked his eyes over to where Gladio was taping a box shut. With a low grunt, he heaved the heavy load into his arms and hauled it to the stack by the front door. "We just started back up again."

Noct was shaking his head vigorously to get Gladio to keep his voice down, but it was too late. Ignis's head whipped up from where he was leaning over the kitchen counter, poring over some packing lists or important papers or something like he always seemed to be.

"I certainly hope not," he replied with a frown and a stern glare in Noct's direction. "There are more tasks to complete than we have hours left before we leave."

"What, you didn't schedule everything out to the minute two months in advance?" Noct retorted, smirking in his direction. It was kind of a low blow, since he knew the last-minute nature of the treaty and the wedding announcement was probably driving perfectly-organized Ignis Scientia up a wall, but what could he say? Noct didn't really want any part of this except for the road trip, and he was tired of being dragged around the city and made to pack and clean.

Ignis opened his mouth to speak before closing it again. He hesitated for a second before replying, "Apologies for the tight schedule, Highness. There's simply more to do than I anticipated."

A touch of guilt, but mostly disappointment flooded through him at Ignis's formal response. Hadn't he just said this afternoon that he hated it when people were formal with him? He would've thought that after all these years together, Ignis would've gotten the hint and lightened up a little. He paid such close attention to everything else.

Noct always got the sense that Ignis originally wanted to say something else when he hesitated like that, like maybe he was trying to bite back some sarcastic or witty comeback only Specs could think of. He wished that were the case. It'd be nice to see him let loose a little more often than a remark here and there—prove there was a human being under that stiffness and constant adherence to protocol, but he never seemed to lose that stuffy stoicism and relax or smile. He wasn't like Gladio, who was usually a hardass but at least knew how to kick back now and then.

Ignis was _always_ so damn perfect—amazing at everything and always getting on Noct's ass to be as good as he was at everything. But he just didn't get that Prince or not, Noct was just a regular guy, and he wished Ignis would just stop trying to make him into something he wasn't. Every time he failed at what was expected of him, Ignis would be in a bad mood, and Noct had always hated that veil of disappointment that closed over his eyes whenever he inevitably didn't live up to the Lucis Caelum hype. They'd both be happier if Ignis just left him in peace.

Noct shrugged. "Whatever. Makes no difference to me if stuff gets done." He didn't see why Ignis was always freaking out everything. It wasn't like someone else couldn't take care of what they left behind anyway. If he loved cleaning so much, why didn't he take care of all this himself when he got back?

Ignis had opened his mouth and taken a deep breath, probably to inform him of the hundred and seventeen reasons why this had to be done tonight, but Noct jumped in to change the subject and escape the lecture.

"Hey, where'd you go this afternoon, anyway? There were all these weird rumors about Dad flying around the Citadel when I walked out to the car. The city's going nuts."

Ignis had turned away so he could stand on his tip toes and reach to the very back of the highest cabinet shelf. At Noct's question, he pulled back with a stack of plates in one hand and frowned at him.

"I was called into the throne room for an audience with His Majesty. What are they saying about him?"

Hot, bitter jealousy flooded Noct's chest at Ignis's admission. He and Specs had been raised together as children, as brothers, and Noct had always gotten the sense that his dad would've preferred to have perfect Ignis as a son over the disaster he'd gotten instead. This was the kinda thing that proved it. How long had he waited around the Citadel for his dad to deign to speak with him? They'd barely talked at all since the terms of the treaty had been set. Really, they'd hardly spoken since their disastrous trip to Tenebrae. He'd always received reports on Noct's progress directly from Ignis. And now he was too busy to see Noct but had enough time to secretly call for Ignis instead?

But it was easier to pretend that he didn't care about these things, so he faked a light tone and said, "Oh yeah? How'd it go? I guess with the timing, you were there to see it yourself."

His frown deepened as he set the plates on the counter next to the sink. Without looking up from carefully wrapping each dish in newspaper and placing them neatly in a box, he said, "The visit was most . . . intriguing, but to what rumors are you referring?"

Prompto waddled in from the bedroom carrying a huge box and dropped it next to the pile of the others with a dramatic sigh. "Seriously, Iggy? You haven't heard? It's all over _Gabbi Sayz_. I thought you kept on top of all that stuff."

He paused in his work and tutted disapprovingly. "I'm afraid I haven't had the time to keep up with the news, let alone the royal gossip sites, as of late," he said in a dry tone, raising an eyebrow at Prompto.

"Uh . . .," Prompto stuttered, looking over to Noct with a 'help me' expression.

Even though Prompto and Noct had been best friends for years now, Prompto hadn't really spent much time with the other two and therefore didn't know that the best way to handle Ignis's weird version of teasing was to ignore it.

He rolled his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. "Looks like Dad has a new girlfriend—and she's my age. Ugh, that's disgusting. Did you see her while you were there?"

It didn't really matter to him if his dad dated, even if the thought of it was a little weird. His mom had been dead for so long he didn't even remember her, and he was old enough now that it wasn't like any woman would be his new mom or anything. But it'd sure as hell be gross to have a stepmother his own age, or even younger, if the rumors were true.

Ignis let out a dramatic sigh and hung his head. "Freedom of the press, honestly. Our lives would be so much simpler if we exercised a little less freedom if you ask me," he grumbled under his breath before looking up to Noct. "No. Honestly, you know by now not to trust those sites, particularly when the news is so sensational."

"It's not just the gossip sites," Prompto said, throwing himself into the couch cushions next to Noct. "I was getting my Crownsguard fatigues and meeting Gladio's dad this afternoon, and I heard the other Crownsguard members talking. Dude. She infiltrated the palace, and the King had her fight Cor the Immortal right there in the throne room. Cor was even in there talking about it!"

"I can vouch for the intruder part. Made my old man late for a meeting with me," Gladio added. "Had everyone in the Citadel freaking out."

"The Crownsguard themselves are confirming that Laura is the King's paramour? That seems unlikely. Infiltration and sparring do not imply relations," Ignis said doubtfully.

Noct bolted upright to stare at him. "'Laura'? Wait, so you _did_ meet her?"

"I did. And I can confirm that she did, in fact, spar with the Marshal in the throne room. Defeated him quite handily—wearing full royal court regalia, I might add."

"Damn," Glado said appreciatively. "Wish I coulda seen that."

Noct was relieved to hear that the intruder this afternoon hadn't been a more serious problem with his dad as stretched thin as he was. He'd recently learned for himself in the past year just how taxing it was to make and maintain Crystal servants. Gladio and Prompto could do little more than summon, and Specs could only manage a couple odd spells here and there because Noct wasn't as good at binding people to the Crystal as his dad, who supported an entire army of warping spellcasters. He felt the bond sapping him of energy every time any of the four of them used magic—especially now that they'd trained a couple of times as a group in preparation for the trip. He didn't know if it was because he was defective or because of his injury as a kid, but he just didn't think he would ever be as good as his dad at using the Caelum powers in general. Gods help him if the time came for him to support the Wall or the entire Kingsglaive with his life force, but then that would mean that his dad . . ..

His dad was one of the two reasons he was going through with this whole marriage thing. With the war over, at least he'd be safe.

But Noct had known for a while now that the intruder had been a false alarm. And the story of how Cor was finally handed his own ass on a platter for once was pretty cool and all, but those weren't the parts he really wanted to hear about most.

"And did she and my dad hold hands afterward? Cause that would imply 'relations.'"

Ignis's eyebrows twitched up a little, his lips parting in surprise. "I . . . I cannot say for absolute certain; I left just after the match was over. However, I have good reason to have my doubts as to the claim."

If Ignis had doubts about anything, it was worth paying attention to. Noct never could figure out how he did it, and he sure as hell would never admit it, but Specs was right about _everything_. It was actually kinda annoying.

"Oh yeah, and what reason's that?"

When the corner of Ignis's lip pulled up into a subtle smirk, Noct knew whatever he was gonna say next was gonna be really, really bad news. Anything that amused Specs was sure to be a pain in the ass for him.

"Because His Majesty has ordered that she come along with us tomorrow."

"What?!" Gladio and Noct exclaimed together.

It was worse than he'd thought. He'd been looking forward to leaving Insomnia for the second time in his life—not because he had any particular desire to travel or anything, but because for the first time in his life, he'd be able to shake free of the Crown weighing him down. Those Kingsglaive not recognizing him this afternoon had filled him with hope that he could be himself for a while without everyone looking to him as the Chosen King. He'd had enough of people hovering over him all the time, getting on his ass to be more than what he really was. His entire life had never been his own, and he'd never really been alone, even after he'd moved out of the Citadel and went to public school. It was bad enough having to take two bodyguards with him, even if Specs and Gladio were all right, but to drag a third along? A representative of his dad to babysit him? No way.

Prompto giggled and pushed Noct over into the couch cushions. "Dude, you're gonna be traveling with your new stepmom!"

Ignis raised his voice ever so slightly so he could be heard over Gladio's answering guffaw. "As I said, I highly doubt it. Please, all of you get back to work, else we shall never finish." He gave an indignant sniff before turning back to the cabinet to pull out another stack of dishes.

"Aww, man!" Prompto whined.

"Uptight, overbearing pain in the ass," Noct grumbled as he and Prompto reluctantly staggered off the couch and started removing books from the shelves. He _still_ didn't see why they had to work all night just because Specs had to have everything perfect before they left. Even if he didn't feel like doing it himself while Noct was off with Luna, it wasn't like they were never coming back. Couldn't they do this later?

"Weird shit going on around here lately," Gladio said, moving to the kitchen to help Ignis. "You know even Cor's gonna be on external patrol for the signing?"

"I'd heard about the Crownsguard from several sources, but not the Marshal himself," Ignis replied in a troubled tone. "That leaves the Citadel and the King almost exclusively to the Kingsglaive."

"Yeah, that was my thought too. I don't like it. No one knows how to protect the King better than the Guard. Dad was acting all weird about it, too. Talking about how the Shield's and the Crownsguard's duties were to center around the people now or something. I dunno."

"And Noct?" Ignis asked.

"Naw, he made it clear _my_ job hasn't changed. Just his."

"How strange."

"Yeah, and now this new girl outta the blue. Did he say why we had to take her? It's gonna be a cramped ride with five of us in the Regalia," Gladio asked.

"He simply said that we did, and I wasn't about to question his directive," Ignis replied.

"Huh. Gonna need to pick up some more gear then. Maybe even a bigger tent. You got time to stop by Overcome tonight?"

"They've long closed for the evening. Believe me, I spent more than enough time this afternoon thinking out the implications of adding another member to our retinue, from decreased fuel efficiency on the drive to Galdin to an additional security clearance for the ceremony itself."

"Sounds like Dad just turned your world upside down, huh Specs?" Noct chuckled. At least he wasn't the only one who didn't want to lug someone else along.

"Hope she's got more than ball gowns to wear, otherwise it's gonna be a rough trip," Gladio said.

"We don't even know if we're gonna be able to camp, though," Prompto pointed out as he tossed another handful of books into the box on the coffee table. "If we can get there in time for tomorrow's ferry, we'll be in Altissia by the next day."

"Prompto has a point, though I intended for us to stay the night in Galdin before we set sail—as a celebration, of sorts."

Noct's ears perked up a little at the news. He'd been hoping to drag his feet a little—they had three weeks before the wedding, after all—but he hadn't expected Ignis to add some fun to the itinerary.

"Really?"

"Of course. It's not every day our Prince is to be married, after all," he said with a smile. "But let us bring what we have, and I'm certain she'll bring her own equipment with her once the King brings her up to speed on the plan. She seemed to be the capable sort."

"High praise comin' from you. Plus, we can get more equipment outside the city if we need it," Gladio said hopefully.

Ignis pursed his lips, but didn't explain the reason for his expression. Once he'd taped his box up and pulled out a marker to label the lid, he let out a small sigh.

"That's the kitchen sorted. Gladio, Prompto informed me that you had intended for me to use your new cooking utensils. Do you have a list of what you brought so I may know what to supplement?"

"Uhh, no. Sorry, Ig. But don't worry about it. I got everything. Got the whole line of cooking stuff."

Noct shot him a disbelieving smile and shook his head. "All Coleman products, I bet. You've only been camping once. Why'd you get all that stuff?"

"When am I supposed to find the time to get to the outskirts? Just cause the forest ain't big doesn't mean it wasn't fuckin' awesome. You bet I'm gonna try my damnedest to do it again."

It sounded like _both_ Gladio and Ignis were interested in stretching the trip out a little before they had to be in Altissia, which was good news for him. Noct wouldn't mind trying to camp, maybe. He wasn't so sure how much he'd like sleeping on the hard ground, though. And even though the havens were supposed to be safe, the idea of being out there in the middle of nowhere surrounded by daemons and animals . . . well, they'd just have to see.

"I dunno. We'll see how it is once we get out there. Maybe we'll extend the trip and get there the day before the ceremony if it's not so bad," Noct said.

"I'd like to leave a little more cushion than _that_ ," Ignis protested.

"I can't imagine what it'll be like out there," Prompto gushed. "The whole world . . . so much bigger than Insomnia."

"Yes, I'm most eager myself to discover all that lies beyond the Wall," Ignis said patiently. "Have you finished with the bedroom and bathroom, Prompto?"

"Yeah, got it all done before I came out here. It's just this room that's left."

"And we're actually done in here too," Gladio said, setting another box on the stack.

"Finally!" Prompto sighed as he collapsed back down on the couch. "I never realized how big this place is."

Noct tossed the rest of the books in his box and leapt onto the other section, leaning his head into the armrest.

"And this is the last you'll see of it. When we return, Noct will begin his new life," Ignis said.

Which was the very thing he hadn't wanted to be reminded of. He blankly stared up at the white ceiling, breathing through the heavy weight of the future threatening to drown him as thoughts of Luna and his dad and Lucis swirled through his head. But he blinked the thoughts away and looked over when Ignis turned toward him. "Please be mindful of the fact that you won't be alone when you get back."

"It hasn't hit me at all. I'm sure it'll all work out, though," Noct said, shrugging a shoulder. In a quieter voice laced with the hope he hadn't meant to express aloud, he added, "Think Luna will really come to Insomnia?"

Luna was an amazing girl—probably his closest friend in the world, but he still couldn't see himself married to her any more than he saw himself becoming King. Even imagining himself married was a weird thought. But Luna was another reason why he was going through with this whole treaty thing without much fuss.

The last time Noct had seen Luna in person, he'd been eight years old, staying in Tenebrae so Luna's mom could heal him after the incident with the marilith. He remembered spending a serene couple of weeks in that quiet, colorful place after he'd been healed—with Luna as his guide to the rolling hills of sylleblossoms and rocky views that stretched on forever. He remembered the last day he'd been there—towering arches of bone-white trees, gushing waterfalls, and his dad and Luna's mom standing around for some kinda ceremony. But then it had all gone wrong. The roaring wind of Magitek engines coming in for a landing. The flashing steel of Nif soldiers. Fire. Swords. Blood.

He'd sat helpless and terrified in his wheelchair, watching Luna's mom fall to her knees after being impaled by a blade, before his dad had lifted him from his chair, grabbed Luna, and ran for it. He could still hear Luna's brother crying out for help over the roaring flames and screaming servants. He recalled with perfect clarity the sight of Luna's wide, terrified eyes as she looked back toward her brother—then let go of his dad's hand and allowed herself to be swallowed whole by the Nifs who'd only had eyes for their Lucian targets.

They'd never talked about why she'd chosen to stay behind that day—he'd definitely never asked—but she'd lived in Niflheim-controlled territory ever since. She never said a word about it, but sometimes he wondered if it was a hard life for her to live under the control of her mom's murderers. It was surprising to think that they'd allow her to come back with him after this. She'd still have to roam the world doing her Oracle duties, but marrying her was his way of making up for them not saving her all those years ago—as much as anyone could pay someone back for that level of failure.

Marrying her meant she'd finally be safe.

"The realization has yet to sink in, I see," Ignis chuckled.

Gladio let out a disbelieving snort. "You haven't thought about it, have you?"

Six, why did they always feel the need to tease him about this?

"Give me a little more credit than that." Allowing a hint of that familiar bitterness to seep into his tone, he said, "Still, thinking about it's not gonna change much, is it?"

Apparently, his entire life had been decided since the day he was born, or whenever it was he'd been picked to be the Chosen. He may have come up with reasons for going along with everything, and good ones too, but in the long run, he'd learned long ago there was no point trying to change things or worry about it. Stuff was gonna happen whether he liked it or not.

Gladio conceded his point with a sympathetic nod. "I get ya."

"Not easy being the prince, huh?" Prompto said.

"First things first: completing our journey," Ignis said cheerfully, and Noct smiled a little to himself. They all could be annoying, even Prompto sometimes, but they were good for distracting him whenever he got down.

"I can't believe it's tomorrow already. I'm so excited! Did you study up 'bout the outside?" Prompto asked, looking over at Ignis.

He shook his head. "Briefly. I hadn't time to dedicate myself thoroughly to the task. I intend to return the foraging book to the library tonight before stopping by the bookstore tomorrow morning to pick up a copy to keep as a reference."

"There're all kinds of wild animals on the outside, right? Think they'll just walk on up to us?" Prompto asked.

Noct shook his head and smiled. Prompto had always had this obsession with animals . . . but still, it'd be pretty cool to see some real live ones roaming around out in the wild. Maybe Ignis would even loosen up enough to let them do a hunt or two. He'd always wanted to try using all the pointless battle skills they'd acquired on something real.

"Dunno. All I heard is that it's different than Insomnia—least that's what my old man says," Gladio said with a shrug.

Prompto's face twisted doubtfully. "I had a look at some maps. But even if you ask around, nobody really knows anything."

"The culture is similar to that of Insomnia thirty years ago. Like a sprawling landscape from an old photograph," Ignis said.

Noct yawned and stopped listening to the conversation, allowing the images his imagination was feeding him to pull him into his dreams.

Sprawling landscapes . . . he'd be happy just to get out of this city and maybe see the open sky above his head for once.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Everyone likes to think that the bros were already close before they left Insomnia, but the conversations in Brotherhood and Parting Ways suggest to me that none of them except for Noct and Prompto were what you would truly call friends. Personally, I think this makes their bond at the end of the story far more compelling.

Thanks to Nightyswolf and a detailed tour of Insomnia, I can say that Overcome Outdoor Equipment & Sporting Goods is a real place in Insomnia. I'd like to think that was Gladio's preferred store.

Again, some of the dialogue is taken from Prologue Parting Ways here.


	3. Chapter 3

"How could I forget the bespectacled gentleman with the bespoke wardrobe? Chef Ignis!" Prompto exclaimed.

"So, let me get this straight. You're the best friend and gunner, Gladio is the Shield and swordsman, and Ignis is the chef? You're traveling with your own personal chef?"

Ignis silently clenched his teeth together in an effort to maintain his placid, pleasant expression. From his experience, it would do him no good to redress the misinformation. How uncouth would it appear to correct Prompto's generalization and instead describe his lifetime of study and dedication to a wide range of subjects that not only spoke to his personal interests but also to his demanding role? There was no way to salvage her first impression without appearing a braggart, and history had taught him that she would likely formulate her own opinions no matter what he said.

Still, his eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, where he could see her sharp gaze assessing him carefully from the middle of the back seat. He pretended to look around her so that it appeared his goal had been to check the road behind them before returning his eyes to the road ahead. A quick glance to the temperature gauge, however, had him easing his foot off the gas pedal in concern. The Regalia, while one of the few fine vehicles to be made in Insomnia, was quite old, and the fact that the engine temperature had only steadily climbed after allowing Noct and Prompto to open her up a little hadn't gone unnoticed since Ignis had returned to the driver's seat.

Even with their enthusiasm for the gas pedal, they hadn't made it quite as far as Ignis would have liked. They'd been delayed at the Citadel as they said farewell to King Regis and were introduced to Laura in an official capacity. Traffic in the Crown City had been monstrous until they'd reached the outskirts of Insomnia. After an hour of driving beyond the Wall for the first time, they had yet to reach the first point of civilization.

"Oh, yeah!" Prompto agreed. "I mean, I've only had a couple of things he's made, but what I've had's been incredible! Right Noct?"

"Yeah," Noct mumbled from the seat behind Ignis. "Guy can do things with an alstroom you wouldn't believe."

"Any creativity I've gained stems only from necessity, as His Highness refuses to eat healthily unless it appears on pizza," Ignis answered.

"So you made an . . . alstroom pizza? What _is_ an alstroom, exactly?" Laura asked.

Ignis counted out fifteen seconds of absolute silence in the car, with nothing but the wind from the lowered top blowing over his ears, before he realized that no one was going to respond to her odd question this time. He was about to patiently answer her when the Regalia's motor seemed to choke on her own breath before giving a spluttering exhale.

"This doesn't bode well," Ignis said, frowning as he used the car's momentum to pull off to the side of the road. Sand and gravel crunched underneath the tires before Ignis brought the car to a full stop, turned off the engine, and turned to look at Gladio in the front seat beside him.

The five of them sat in silence for a few moments as the sweltering heat beat down on the tops of their heads. For all the expertise on sword and gunplay sitting in the car, none of them knew anything about fixing anything that could be wrong with the Regalia. Prompto had some small amount of experience in repairing and working with machinery, but as a mere tinkering hobbyist, he hardly knew enough to fix something as complex as a vehicle.

Sighing, Ignis pulled out his mobile and scrolled through his contacts list to find Hammerhead's number. He had to admit he hadn't thought of collecting contact numbers of the towns they would be passing through in case of an emergency, but when his uncle had forwarded the number to Cid Sophiar's garage in Hammerhead from King Regis "just in case," Ignis had seen the wisdom in collecting the numbers to the hotels in Longwythe and Galdin as well. But he'd hoped at the time he wouldn't have to resort to these precautions at all, let alone before they'd even reached Hammerhead.

Drat, a busy signal. So much for his preparedness.

And of course, there was no sense in attempting anyone in the Crown City. They'd been warned on departing that their ability to contact anyone in Insomnia would grow spotty just outside the Wall due to the magical interference, with communication becoming nearly impossible the farther they drove. They were on their own out here, which had been, up until that moment, one of the most exhilarating sensations Ignis had ever experienced, but as he glanced around at the completely alien landscape devoid of any human life, the terrain became far less welcoming.

He wasn't terribly concerned just yet. As a former member of King Regis's royal retinue thirty years ago when His Majesty had completed his Bonding of Souls tour to collect his Royal Armiger, Cid had been informed to look after them while they were still on Lucian soil, so there was a possibility he would send someone should the hour grow too late.

"I can try to take a look and see if there's something I can fix, but if the car needs any parts, there's nothing I can do," Laura said, and he turned in his seat to see her gesture for Prompto to open the door so she could get out. He noted her calm expression as she met his eyes. Given what he'd guessed of her history thus far, he'd expected her to be more high-strung in such an unfamiliar setting. "Ignis, would you mind popping the hood, please?"

"Certainly," he said, looking down to find the release.

"Prompto, you said you were good with machines, right? Would you like to help?"

"Uhh, yeah, sure!" Prompto said, but Ignis could tell by the tone of his voice he would rather stay in the back seat.

Ignis couldn't blame him for his hesitancy as he placed his hands on the top of the steering wheel and pressed his forehead against them, seeking to hide his face from the sun and bask for a moment in his fatigue. Astrals, it was scorching out, and even with the top down, it had to have been hotter on the pavement in front of the steamy engine than inside the car. In their eagerness to be out on the open road, they'd probably gotten carried away and pushed the old girl past what she could handle in this weather.

"You sure you know enough about cars to be of any use?" Gladio asked.

Though his phrasing and intonation was rather brusque, in Ignis's opinion, he couldn't blame Gladio for his attitude, either. In the hours they'd made small talk as they crawled through heavy traffic and out into Leide, all four of them had come to realize that the girl knew very little about . . . well, anything, really, so it came as a surprise that she seemed so confident looking at the Regalia's engine.

"Well, I'm no mechanic, but you can have Prompto watch me to make sure I don't take a hammer to the thing," Laura replied lightly before sliding out and heading toward the front of the car.

"Thanks, Prompto," Noct grunted, and Prompto shot the three of them a silent, wide-eyed look of panic before grimacing and following after her.

The second she had raised the hood and began directing Prompto to check various fluid levels, Gladio turned to look between Ignis and Noct, muttering low enough so he couldn't be overheard, "It's not just me, right?"

"No way. She's _awful_ ," Noct whispered. "At least you don't have to sit next to her."

"Yeah well, no way three of us coulda fit back there if I was one of 'em. You're stuck with her unless you can convince Prompto to take the middle."

Ignis couldn't understand was why they were being so unfair to the newest member of their retinue. As far as he was concerned, the girl had been perfectly pleasant, if a bit . . . sheltered, cheerfully asking each of them about their lives and their roles in the group. Even if his own introduction hadn't gone as smoothly as he would have liked, he could hardly fault her for the circumstances.

He was about to inform them that they ought to try being more patient with the girl's inexperience when the hood slammed shut.

"Sorry guys," Laura said. "Looks like your radiator's been cracked for a while now, and it's damaged the water pump. And in this heat, she's not likely to start back up again. We're going to have to push her to Hammerhead, unless one of you happens to know the phone number."

"I've been attempting to call, but all I'm getting is a busy signal," Ignis replied, holding up his mobile, from which he could hear the tinny sounds of the repetitive beeping of an engaged line.

"Well, then!" she said cheerfully, clapping her hands together with a wide, manic grin as she walked around to the trunk of the car. "We might as well get moving."

He saw the prudence of her suggestion, of course. It would hardly do to sit there fretting about their situation when they could make some progress while he continued to try and call. But his formerly pleasant mood was now soured as the weight of their schedule pressed down on him. He knew from their conversations thus far that she was aware that daemons beyond their skill to fight would emerge as soon as the sun went down, so her lively disposition seemed somewhat bizarre given their current status.

"Someone seems eager," he said mildly.

She tilted her head at him, her cobalt eyes glittering with some emotion he couldn't name. "Honestly, where's your sense of adventure? A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting."

He had no response for her. This . . . _girl_ , who didn't even know what a common, everyday mushroom was, had the audacity to lecture him about _his_ sense of adventure?

"Guess we can take turns who gets to sit and steer," Gladio said, heaving himself out of his seat and bracing himself against the door and mirror. "Come on, 'Your Highness,' get out and push."

As Noct braced himself against the back door, Prompto moved next to Ignis. "Guess you can go first, Iggy," Prompto said.

Though he placed the car in neutral, Ignis turned back toward Laura and furrowed his brow, dissatisfied with this arrangement. He had only managed to catch an hour or so of sleep the night before, and his tense shoulders and enervated body were grateful for the comfort of the luxurious seat, but this was still wrong. He was loath to force a lady to push a heavy vehicle across the desert while he sat, not exactly comfortable in the blazing sun, but certainly more so than those out pushing. Though she was clearly expertly trained in combat arts much like themselves, he doubted she had much experience exerting herself physically in this oppressive heat.

The car had only just reluctantly slogged its way off the berm and back onto the asphalt when Ignis decided that he must speak up. "I'm afraid I must insist that Laura be the one to sit in the driver's seat. The Regalia is quite heavy, and combined with the heat and your diminutive size, Laura, forgive me, but you're at a considerable disadvantage compared to the rest of us."

Instead of the sigh of appreciation he was expecting, he was surprised and somewhat bewildered to see the sapphire flames spark in her eyes.

"Not bloody likely!" she exclaimed, but she seemed to realize that her reaction had been hasty, as her voice immediately softened. "I appreciate your chivalry, but let's get something straight right now: I don't want any special treatment. I intend to earn my keep around here. If I have a problem with something, I'll let you know."

"Just keep moving. Faster we push this thing, faster we can get outta the heat," Gladio grunted as he threw his weight into the frame.

Ignis raised a single eyebrow in Laura's direction before turning to watch the road ahead.

After about fifteen minutes of groaning and grumbling complaints muttered in low voices, Noct decided that the only logical switching interval could be fifteen minutes, but his brilliant scheme to take a break failed when Prompto brightened.

"Oooh, my turn!" Prompto said, opening the car door and letting Ignis out.

Ignis decided to join Laura at the back of the car, both because he wished to show his support of the King's decision that she accompany them and because it was much more efficient to push from this angle. It seemed odd to him that the others wished to avoid her so completely that they should be willing to make their work more difficult. As he placed his gloved hands against the hot metal, she gave him a small smile of encouragement before leaning all her weight into the trunk and walking forward.

Between her eyes and her smile, there was something about her that struck a chord with him the longer he spent in her company. She was almost painfully familiar, and he wondered at his reaction to her—neither positive nor negative, but a zing of some indefinable instinct. This was too visceral a reaction for a chance glimpse in a library; it was personal in a way that sent a chill down his back. He tried yet again to recall where he might have seen her face before but couldn't attain any new insights.

"I think we can forget about hitching our way there," Gladio grumbled as he tried to flag down yet another car that passed by without slowing. They had stopped just long enough for Noct to let Prompto out of the driver's seat and take his turn to steer, but as soon as he'd settled into the seat, Gladio returned to his position to begin pushing again. "Thought people were friendly outside the city."

"You can only go so far on the kindness of strangers," Ignis replied as smoothly as he could through his exertion. It seemed that getting the car rolling again after stopping almost wasn't worth the few seconds' respite.

"Come now, be fair. Who's going to pull over for five people dressed mostly in Crownsguard uniforms in the outlands? From what I heard, the decision to annex wasn't exactly a popular one," Laura said. Noct muttered an incoherent reply, but Gladio eyed her Kingsglaive mage uniform suspiciously before shooting Ignis a significant look.

So she wasn't completely clueless, after all. Her assessment of the current situation in the outlands was succinct and accurate, despite the information not exactly being openly acknowledged in the upper echelons of Lucian nobility. She must have spoken to His Majesty on the matter before leaving.

The evidence of her empathy to the plight of the Kingsglaive along with her uniform might have convinced him that she was actually an outlander if not for her accent, coloring, unique weapons, and obviously enormously expensive combat training—to the exclusion of all additional education, it would seem. It wasn't as though there weren't a few Insomnians in the Glaive, though he'd never heard of a member of high nobility joining. Still, he shook his head minutely in Gladio's direction. The likelihood that the King had put her in whatever uniform he had available was high, as there clearly hadn't been time for her to have custom Crownsguard fatigues made up.

"Besides, Gladio, as charming as your smile is, you look like you can crush a grown man's skull between your thumbs," she said with a smile.

"That just means we're gonna have to push her all the way," Gladio said, ignoring her.

"It's probably for the best, given the extent of the repairs needed," Ignis said. As much as he wished he didn't have to be the bearer of bad news, he had to inform them that his precaution of bringing outlander money had backfired somewhat with these new circumstances, but it was best to bring up these problems as soon as they came along. "We'll probably run into some funding issues when we arrive, so we likely wouldn't be able to afford a tow truck regardless, I'm afraid. I do hope we can find some work in Hammerhead to bolster our funds."

"I saw on the map that the town of Hammerhead is centered around the garage and a diner," Laura said. "I think we should talk to the proprietor at the diner. Small towns like that, I bet everyone goes there, and they'd talk to everyone that passes through. They probably know everything about the area, including where to make some money."

"I highly doubt the proprietor of an establishment of that nature will know too much about the kinds of information we're seeking," Ignis sniffed. "There must be some sort of employment agency in the area we could visit."

"Yeah, that makes sense . . .," Laura said quietly.

He frowned a little at her subdued tone—he supposed he could have handled that more gracefully, but honestly, the lack of mental acuity she'd displayed thus far had proven that she needed to be put in her place. She should certainly _not_ be making important decisions for them. Inexperienced or not, Ignis was still the best man in the group for that particular task, and he needed to assert his intellectual dominance now in the beginning of their journey before she attempted a takeover.

She'd been evasive whenever he or Prompto had attempted to ask after her origins thus far, but Ignis believed he had garnered quite enough about her from carefully observing her phrasing and reactions to their comments. Though he himself was new to the world outside the city, Laura seemed to be new to life in general. Their hours spent talking in the car revealed that she knew nothing of television references, video games, books, music, or movies—even common, everyday foods. Given the way she spoke and fought, Ignis assumed she must have grown up in a noble household with nothing more than a combat trainer—and perhaps a mechanic.

Typically, he had little patience for people such as she, as anyone who displayed such extensive evidence of ignorance wasn't worth his personal time unless they proved their inclination to learn—though he was always courteous—but her skill in combat, at the very least, denoted an exceptional dedication, desire to be of use, and _some_ level of intelligence. He could hardly demean her for her lack of experience if her ignorance was due to circumstances beyond her control. He would have to apologize for his discourtesy in private once they reached the employment center, and perhaps he could determine the source of his familiarity with her once he offered his services as a guide, of sorts, to this new, wider world of theirs.

He continued to quietly observe her as the others griped about their sore feet, the oppressive heat, and how much farther they had to push the rolling brick across the scorching asphalt. Laura barely uttered a sound as she helped them, choosing instead to observe them in turn, and Ignis made no effort to conceal that he was watching her—very, very carefully. Still, even as her fair skin grew redder with the heat and exertion, she began to relax some and smile at their jokes, commiserate with the others for their suffering, and smirk down at Prompto when he melodramatically collapsed on the asphalt.

"You know, you're pretty much lying down on a frying pan right now, right?" she asked with an amused smile. "Both you and Noctis."

"Just flip me over when I smell like I'm getting burnt," he sighed mournfully.

Once Gladio had peeled Noct and Prompto off the asphalt and they were underway again, Ignis settled back into the driver's seat, leaning heavily against the steering wheel. Astrals, was he ever exhausted, but they needed him to steer, so he sat up as straight as he could, hoping the tension in his back would make him uncomfortable enough to keep him awake.

"Is it just me, or was it supposed to be way closer?" Prompto whined as they cleared a curve to reveal another stretch of wilderness rolling far out to the horizon.

"I assure you, the map is correct," Ignis replied in a dry tone.

"The map said Hammerhead was right there," Noct argued, pointing to where the cracked pavement looped around a collection of rocky cliffs looming ahead of them.

"Literally next door!" Prompto agreed.

"Looks that way—on a map of the world," Gladio said.

A second of silence passed before Noct said in a soft, pensive tone, "The world's a big old place."

Ignis turned in his seat to look back at the Prince, who was staring out to the mountains on the horizon with a bright, dreamy look in his eyes that Ignis hadn't seen since they were children. He followed Noct's gaze, and it took him a moment to realize that this was it—the moment he'd been waiting for. He hadn't truly noticed before this moment just how free he truly felt now that they had left the city walls behind and how silent it was with the roar of the Regalia's engine quieted. For the first time in his life, the horizon ahead of him was completely clear for miles, and though the current situation was rather unfortunate, the fact that there wasn't another soul nearby felt . . . somewhat peaceful.

He realized then that he wouldn't have experienced this moment had the Regalia not broken down. Indeed, a straight line _wasn't_ necessarily the most interesting path between two points.

As he looked back in the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Laura, her faced flushed and sweating, her hair falling out of its clip and sticking to her skin, Ignis couldn't help but add, "Filled with wonders."

* * *

As Ignis had feared, the fees required to repair the Regalia would most certainly deplete the meager amount of gil he'd brought along for the stay in Galdin and any emergency purchases they may have needed to make. Unfortunately, Cid couldn't give them a more exact estimation of the time he would require to complete the repairs. If they were to be stranded here, they would need some time to look for work, but given how busy the garage was, he had a feeling it would be at least a day before they were called to come and pick the car up again, perhaps even longer.

"What kinda biznis y'all think I'm runnin' here, anyway?" Cid demanded irritably, hobbling toward the garage door with a hand held fast to his lower back. "Doin' things right takes time and patience, so you boys jus' take her in and run along."

Ignis frowned over at Laura, who seemed to take no notice at not being acknowledged, but complied, pushing the heavy vehicle the last several feet into the shade of the building—with any luck, for the last time in his lifetime.

They stood and watched as Cid yanked the garage doors closed behind him with an unnecessary shuddering slam, hiding their only source of transportation from view. It was only after several seconds that the five of them turned to Cindy, who was looking up at them all expectantly.

"She ain't gon' be ready for a while. He'll take his time, but he'll get 'er done. Y'all need somethin'?" she asked.

Noct looked first to Prompto, then over at Ignis, but it was Prompto who spoke up.

"So uh . . . good news—I found out they got Ebony out here. Bad news—I got a feeling our money's no good here. What's a gil?"

"Betcha Ignis came prepared," Noct said smugly.

With Cindy watching their exchange closely, Ignis suppressed the sigh building up in his lungs. Had they not paid attention when they'd broken down and he'd cited their potential funding issues? Flattered though he was that Noct maintained so much faith in his preparedness, it was somewhat frustrating that he paired that particular trait with never listening to a word Ignis said. He may not have spelled the situation out bluntly, but surely they'd put the clues together and realized that he'd only brought a limited amount of gil with them?

"I'm afraid we've expended the last of our funds on the repairs," Ignis answered.

"Might as well make good use of the extra time, then," Gladio said suggestively, stepping closer to Cindy and grinning down at her. "You got any suggestions?"

Cindy's vibrant green eyes lit up in a mischievous smile. "Ohhh, _now_ I get it. _This_ must be what Paw Paw meant when he said he was gonna 'teach them boys a lesson.' Told me he oughta have y'all take care of some ornery varmints that've been causin' a ruckus 'round here. I'd be happy to pay y'all for your services if you're up for the challenge. How 'bout it?"

When Noct looked back up to Ignis for guidance, he answered, "All according to Cid's plan. I say we play along and teach him not to underestimate us."

"Old man's got his eye on you, Noct. Show him what you got!" Gladio said encouragingly.

Prompto let out a long sigh. "So much for finding an easy way out . . .. Thanks a lot, 'Paw Paw.'"

"Yeah, I guess we'll do it," Noct answered.

"But don't feel obliged or nothin,'" she laughed, dipping her cap with a saucy wink. "Wouldn't want ya to ruin your royal reputation."

"Heh," Noct half-heartedly returned as he began trudging back toward the shops, "somehow I think I'll be okay."

Satisfied that they at least had the means for becoming solvent, the others headed toward the diner to cool off. But Ignis stopped when he spotted Laura standing by the fuel pump, watching a little girl wail unrestrainedly next to a car parked in one of the spaces by the road. The girl's mother, or so Ignis presumed her to be, roughly slammed the hood of her car down before hitting both her fists against the hot metal in frustration. Ignis had to admit he felt her pain quite keenly, having experienced a similar episode without a howling child by his side earlier this morning—that was, unless one counted Gladio, Noct, and Prompto.

It seemed the mother had reached the end of her tether at this point, because she turned to snap at the little girl, "There's no point crying about it. There's nothing we can do!"

Dread pooled in his belly as he watched Laura narrow her eyes at the woman and begin striding in the pair's direction.

"What are you going to do?" he hissed from behind her, but she ignored him.

While he himself didn't care for the way the woman was handling the situation, it wasn't their business if a woman chastised her daughter, and he didn't see how causing a scene and drawing attention to themselves was going to benefit anyone. He shot a look over at Gladio standing next to the door of the diner, who held his hands up in surrender and went inside. _That_ was an enormous help. Already, it seemed he was to be in charge of ensuring everyone behaved themselves in a civilized manner—only he hadn't anticipated being responsible for four instead of three.

"Hi there!" she said with a wide smile and a wiggle of her fingers as she kneeled down to the weeping child's level. Ignis stopped abruptly several paces away, surprised at her cheerful tone. "M' name's Laura. What's yours?"

She said this in an awed tone full of wonder that made it sound like the most exciting secret in the world, and Ignis noticed that the girl had already stopped sobbing to stare at the strange woman.

"Cami," the girl sniffed.

"Why're ya so sad, Cami?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Daddy's coming to visit from work tonight, but our car's broken and they're too busy to fix it. He's gonna be gone again by the time we get home," she said, tears still leaking quietly from her eyes.

It was likely their fault that Cid or Cindy would be unable to look at the mother's car today, even if they had arrived before the retinue. Ignis had a feeling that, despite Cid's irreverent attitude towards royalty, the Regalia had been moved to the front of the queue, no doubt overbooking the garage even more. He ran his eyes over their worn traveling clothes and the seemingly ancient, rusty vehicle with its Duscaean license plates. Their accents didn't match Cid and Cindy's—nor the townsfolk whose conversations he'd caught snippets of here and there, so he surmised that they must have been quite far from home.

"M' so sorry to 'ear that, dear. What's your daddy do?"

"He's in the Kingsglaive, like you. Do you know my daddy?"

So the girl's father was likely involved in searching Taelpar Crag for evidence of imperial forces that had been rumored to be hiding out in the area. Ignis had sat in on the briefing himself only two days ago when they received word that their forces would be returning to Insomnia for the treaty signing.

Ignis watched Laura carefully for her response in the hopes that she would be disarmed by the child and give a straight answer. At first, Laura's eyes seemed to widen in horror for a moment, but then she shook her head.

"Sorry. M' really new to the Kingsglaive. Jus' star'ed today, s'matter of fact."

She looked over at the girl's mother—standing next to the car, her long, dark hair hanging forward as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Ignis thought she appeared to be holding back tears, and he felt pity for the less fortunate woman wash over him, though he couldn't think of any possible way they could be of assistance to her. For the briefest of moments, his and Laura's eyes met in silent, shared understanding before she turned back toward the little girl.

"Lemme talk to your mum, 'kay? See if there's anythin' I can do to 'elp."

"Okay."

Without looking over at him, she stood, walked to where the woman was making an attempt at composing herself, and put a hand on her shoulder. Her head shot up in alarm at the touch, but Laura greeted her in a calm, soothing tone.

"Hey," she said softly.

She stared at Laura, no doubt taking in her Kingsglaive uniform, before casting a quick glance in Ignis's direction. Wishing to make a good impression, he bowed his head slightly in greeting before she turned back to Laura.

"Cami's been tellin' me bout your car trouble. D'ya mind if I take a look? M' no Cindy by a long shot, but I know a coupla things bout cars."

The woman closed her hazel eyes and shook her head. "I mean, you can't make it any worse than it is, right?"

"That's the spirit!" she replied almost uncomfortably immediately, a mad grin spreading across her features. "Name's Laura. You?"

"Shawna."

"All right, Shawna, ya mind poppin' the 'ood and startin' the car so I can listen?"

"Yeah, all right."

Ignis waited until the woman slid into her car before he approached Laura, who had already opened the hood and was bending over to inspect the engine.

"Do you truly know what you're doing?" he asked low enough that the woman wouldn't overhear. "It's one thing to look at the Regalia, but we can't afford this woman's repairs should you break something,"

She turned to glare at him, then wiped her brow with the back of her hand before looking down at the engine. "Go ahead and start her," she called out, apparently choosing to ignore him. She cocked her head to listen and closed her eyes as the engine attempted to fire to life and failed.

"Hmmm," she said to herself before reaching down to one of four small cylinders lined up in a row and pulling it free from the engine.

"I certainly hope you know what you're doing," he cautioned, but she didn't even grant him an acknowledgement this time.

"Hey Shawna," she said, looking up at the woman, who had just come to stand next to them, "if ya go into th' shop there an' ask the proprietor for four spark plugs for your car's model, I can get ya on the road in bout 'alf an hour, maybe less."

The woman's expression transformed immediately at her words, her haggard face giving way to a bright smile. "Really? Oh! Thank the gods! Thank you!" she exclaimed before rushing to the shop, leaving her daughter standing next to Laura and staring cautiously up at her.

Ignis frowned after the woman. Customs certainly must have been different here outside the city, as he couldn't imagine anyone leaving such a young girl behind with two strangers without so much as even asking.

"That was irresponsible of her; we could be anyone. What if we intended to abscond with her child?"

It was only when Laura began speaking to him that he noticed the dramatic change in her accent, transforming from the commoner speech of the poorer native Insomnian districts to a severely formal diction like his own. Had the choice been deliberate in order to better blend in with the implication of lower origins? Or had she inadvertently revealed that her birth was not as high as she represented herself? She'd been extraordinarily careful about her answers and phrasing thus far, so he had to assume, for now, that it had been the former. Still . . . he wondered.

"Give her a break. She thought she was going to miss out on her only night with the father of her child." Her voice grew wistful as she shook her head. "Can you imagine for a moment what it would be like to not be there the one day your love is back, not knowing for absolute certain that they'll ever return?"

A impulsive desire to ask her who she'd lost shot through him as he watched the intense emotion cross her face, but he repressed it. They certainly didn't know each other well enough yet for him to ask such personal questions. But as that sometimes irksome desire to know and understand all continued to buzz at his thoughts, he made a mental note to ask her someday.

"And her husband is Kingsglaive," she continued in a more neutral tone, "so of course she's going to trust anyone in a Glaive uniform. You should know yourself that groups like Kingsglaive and Crownsguard are family. They look out for their own."

When she turned to the girl, her eyes suddenly glittering with euphoria, that unnerving sense of déjà vu he'd experienced out on the road washed over him again, and he wondered what he would have to do to earn that look from her—merely to jog his memory. Ignis never forgot a face; remembering every detail of every nobleman and noblewoman in court was a vital part of his job, and it was irritating him that he couldn't place her.

"Cami! Guess what?" she breathed, her voice suffused with awe. "You're gonna make it 'ome to see your daddy!"

"Really?" she screamed, and Ignis had to step back as the girl rushed forward to cling to her leg.

Laura reached down to hug her before looking up at Ignis. "I won't be needing your assistance. You're free to join the others in the diner if you wish. Rest. Cool off. You look exhausted."

Recognizing a dismissal when he saw one, he bowed his head slightly. "Of course."

He meandered slowly and indirectly toward the diner's front door—not because he was exhausted but because he wished to take in every detail of the scene around him, from the weeds pushing their way through cracks in the pavement to the car models he'd never seen or heard of before to the rather odd and plain sense of fashion the people seemed to have out here. The garage and diner truly did seem to be the center of the tiny town, with locals and travelers alike clumping into loose groups to trade gossip about news from other regions. Did they not have papers and websites for that sort of thing?

This place was just so different . . . _interesting—_ primitive, but certainly a curiosity. He found himself somewhat pleased that they'd been stranded here longer than he'd intended, as it gave him a unique opportunity to learn about a culture so very different from the one he grew up in.

When he heard Princess Lunafreya's name mentioned, he stopped by the stoop to the diner, pretending to inspect a faded sign advertising Takka's spicy jambalaya so he could listen to what they were saying.

"So Lady Lunafreya would be a Lucian?" a woman asked, leaning against an open car door.

Her conversation partner was seated sideways in the driver's seat, lacing up a thick pair of black combat boots. "I can't imagine it either!"

"Well, what does Tenebrae think about all this?"

"They'll still claim the Oracle's theirs, of course. Can't say I blame 'em after the way Caelum's treated the Kingsglaive."

"You know they rejected Shawna's application to join Jason in Insomnia? After all they've done for the Royal Family. He's got a kid, for Six's sake."

"Might be for the best though. I heard they treat immigrants like trash."

"I guess you're right," the first woman answered with a sigh. "Fuck Insomnians, I say! Think they can just use us to defend their Wall then toss us aside."

"Part of me hopes things'll actually get better under Niflheim," the second woman replied in a small voice, not looking up from the bow she'd tied on her boot. "I really wish I could wear a dress someday. Maybe a grand, sweeping white one like Lady Lunafreya's."

"Ha, keep dreaming, girl. It's this or EXINERIS for the likes of us."

Deeply troubled to hear such candid talk about his people, Ignis stepped over the threshold of the refreshingly air-conditioned diner, spotted the other three sitting at a booth in the corner, and slid into the seat next to Noct. He stared blankly down at the bland beige table beneath his gloved hands, wondering if the King were aware of this contemptuous attitude toward Insomnia beyond the Wall . . . and wondering why Ignis hadn't been aware himself. Blatant cases of prejudice based on place of origin? He'd heard stirrings, of course, and he was well-familiar with the disdain between the different levels of nobility, but he'd had no idea tensions were running _this_ high among everyday citizens.

"That was the most painful couple of hours I've spent with someone. I was almost glad to get out of the car just so I wouldn't have to be so close to her," Noct said, interrupting Ignis's train of thought.

"Yeah, what the hell was up with that? Felt like I wanted to jump outta the car and run away as fast as I could . . . or run a blade through her," Gladio agreed, nodding.

Ignis gaped at the two of them, his eyes widening in disbelief at what he was hearing. Gladio often threatened someone in jest, particularly other members of the Crownsguard, but his furrowed brow and frown indicated he was being completely serious, which was completely out of character for him.

"I don't like her. I say first chance we get, we ditch her. Not like Dad can do anything from the other side of the ocean. She can go back to the Citadel and marry him, or whatever."

"I dunno," Prompto said with a grimace, spinning the salt shaker in between his palms. "Maybe it's not her fault. Like, she's nice and stuff when Ignis or me talk to her, but it's kinda hard to keep it up for long, ya know?"

"Seriously? It's not just the weird thing, it's her too. I can maybe forgive her for not knowing King's Knight, but when she asked what an alstroom was, that was the end of the conversation for me," Noct shot back. "Dunno how you managed to keep it up."

Somewhat horrified by the unconventional behavior of the group, Ignis wondered what on Eos this girl could possibly have done to warrant such harsh words. He hadn't spent too much time with Prompto in the past, but he seemed to be an amiable sort, almost overly eager to make friends with anyone that would treat him kindly. Gladio, in addition to never having expressed a true desire to murder anyone, was friendly with people from all walks of life back in the city. And while Noct was often slow to warm up to new people, he'd never displayed such a blatant dislike for anyone without provocation. Laura was somewhat strange and possibly dim, certainly, but she didn't deserve _this_.

"This is hardly appropriate conversation," Ignis interrupted as Gladio opened his mouth to add to Noct's argument. "And I must insist we maintain civility through the course of our journey, at the very least."

"Where'd she go, anyway?" Noct asked, glancing out the window.

"She's assisting a woman and her daughter with their broken-down vehicle."

Turning back to look at him, Noct asked, "So what do you think of her, Specs? Really."

He hesitated, determined to give a more diplomatic response than the others. After all, he knew that his opinion still carried some weight with the Prince. "While I agree she is an odd creature, she hardly warrants such a drastic response. I should be most displeased if you left her behind. After all, your father ordered her along with us for a reason, even if he chose not to disclose it."

Noct rolled his eyes and collapsed on the table. "Fine," he moaned into his folded arms, "but I'm driving then. You can be the one to sit next to her when we leave for Galdin."

"Elbows off the table, if you please, Highness," Ignis said quietly. "And do sit up straight."

"Aww, man. That means I don't got a choice!" Prompto whined. "And I'm hungry! Can't we get somethin' to eat?"

"Not until we complete Cindy's task or stop at a haven," Ignis replied. "We've run out of local currency, remember?"

"Yeah, we need to figure out how we're gonna get more funds around here," Gladio said. "There's gotta be something four guys can do to earn some gil."

"And a woman," Ignis corrected, frowning at him.

"I'll talk to the proprietor—just as soon as I get cleaned up. Perhaps he'll know where the employment agency is," Laura's voice cut in suddenly, and Ignis did his best to conceal his surprise at her unexpected appearance at the end of their table, her face ruddy and covered in greasy smears. Really, tired or not, he needed to learn to pay better attention out here. Given what he'd just heard outside, she could have been a local that had recognized them and meant to do the Prince harm.

"You've finished already?" Ignis asked, flushing slightly at the possibility that she had overheard their abhorrent conversation.

"Yes, it didn't take as long as I expected. Shawna and Cami are on their way home. Aren't you the one in charge of the finances?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to recall when any of them had told her that. It was possible, he supposed, that she had drawn that conclusion from several of his gentle admonishments when the others had expressed an interest in stopping in Hammerhead to shop earlier this morning. But then that would require far more intelligence than she'd displayed thus far.

"I am, normally, but we don't currently have any finances for me to be in charge of."

She slapped a neat stack of bills on the table in front of him. "We do now—three hundred gil. I have no idea if that's a lot or not, but I wasn't about to demand a price. They're trying to save up to buy a house in Lestallum, and Shawna just found out she's pregnant."

"Whoo! That's enough to buy us something for lunch!" Prompto exclaimed, frantically pointing at the menu hanging above the long, curved counter up front.

"Great! You guys go ahead and order; I'm going to get cleaned up."

"What would you like us to order for you?" Ignis asked.

She glanced up at the board and frowned. "I'll . . . just have some water, thanks," she said with a slight smile. Before he could respond, she turned toward the restrooms and walked away. He frowned after her.

The menu was hardly the sort of fare Ignis preferred customarily, but it seemed to be the type of cuisine common to these sorts of places. Though Noct often complained about Ignis's healthy eating habits, he wasn't above eating cheap junk food now and then—as long as it was in moderation—a concept that seemed beyond the Prince. Not every meal had to be a sophisticated, five-star experience, either; he was more than capable of adapting and even enjoying a wide variety of culinary experiences. But it seemed that much like Noct, Laura was going to have to adopt a more flexible palate if she was going to survive the different regions they would be traveling through.

"I wanna try the Hammerhead Hot Sandwich," Noct said, pointing at the menu, and the others nodded in agreement.

It wasn't until after Ignis had ordered for the four of them at the counter and returned to his seat that Laura emerged from the restroom, her face clear of engine grease.

Instead of joining them, however, she headed toward the counter and leapt up onto a stool on her knees, leaning far over the surface to catch the proprietor's attention. As the others chatted about the heat and how different the scenery was from the city, Ignis watched Laura's face light up at the proprietor's approach with that smile she only seemed to reserve for complete strangers. Had they really offended her so much that she wouldn't look at any of them like that? Perhaps she had overheard Noct complaining in the car or talking about leaving her behind, and not just Gladio's final remarks.

Gods, how disgraceful a first impression could they have possibly made? What would she report to the King of their behavior when they returned?

An employee stopped by the table to drop off their drinks, and after flicking the tab open and taking a measured sip, he cupped the hot can of Ebony with both hands, grateful to be able to experience a comforting, familiar piece of home out here in this foreign place. Despite the morning spent in the heat, he was beginning to feel a bit chilled as the air conditioning dried off his sweaty shirt. He imagined the sunburn forming on the back of his neck was doing little to help the matter and decided he would need to reapply more sunscreen before they left.

Turning back to watching the proprietor and Laura interact, he took a longer draught of the hot, bitter fluid, letting it warm him from within and shock his system awake.

They spoke for a few minutes before she smiled at the man again and headed toward their booth.

"Damn," Gladio muttered, catching sight of her approaching from across the room and subtly scooting to the edge of the bench. Casting a silent, displeased glare in Gladio's direction, Ignis moved closer to Noct to make her feel more welcome to sit down. Honestly, they were all behaving like children. This was going to be a rather long journey if they weren't willing to even make an attempt at friendliness.

Instead of sitting down, however, she stood at the end of the table and said, "Turns out Takka is the guy in charge if you want to know about things around here. He said he had plenty of assignments for us if you want to take them." She met Ignis's eyes and said in a quieter tone, "I did ask about an employment center, but he said there wasn't one. Sorry."

Ignis's narrowed his eyes up at her, scrutinizing her face. Try as he might, he could discern no trace of smug satisfaction in her expression; it was completely smooth and pleasant, and he felt another stirring of remorse at having dismissed her so readily. He really must find the time to apologize to her in private—and to thank her for not calling him out publicly for his boorishness.

"Thank you," he said softly as he stood. In a louder voice, he added, "Very well. I'll see what he has for us, then."

"And find out where our food's at!" Noct called to his retreating back.

It turned out that the man at the counter, who introduced himself as Takka, had three hunts available appropriate to their combat skill, totaling over three thousand gil in bounties. Coupled with their task from Cindy, they should be in a much more fortunate position within a couple of days. Though none of them had actually seen a wild animal up close before, Ignis was confident that they should have no trouble handling these assignments with their extensive training. Noct, Gladio, and Ignis had spent their entire lives knowing that they would likely wind up killing something at some point—whether that was an animal in tradition with House Caelum's favorite bloodsport or a human on the field of battle.

It would be beneficial, he thought, to experience this taste of true combat before Noct's destiny came calling.

He immediately chased the thought away. Ignis had made his peace—he believed—with the idea that he would take a human life someday in order to protect his homeland and those he cared for, but that didn't mean he relished the prospect. Given what he'd learned of his disposition during Crownsguard training, he believed he could be easily stirred to violence and even ruthlessness should the need arise. Still—this would be a perfect opportunity, a gentle easing into the idea for the entire party.

The proprietor was also helpful in pointing out the locations of havens and foraging points in the area. Ignis decided it would be most prudent to head to the haven just to the north directly after lunch and set up camp, where they would be in a prime location to begin their hunts the next day. With any luck, he could somehow lure Laura away from the rest of the group, where he could perhaps politely pry some additional information from her without the distraction of the others.

He was about to thank Takka for his very welcomed help when Laura sidled up next to him, placing both her elbows on the counter and leaning in.

"Hey, Takka," she said. "D' ya 'appen to 'ave a rag I could borrow? My friend over there 'ad an accident wiv the ketchup, an' I didn't wanna leave a big mess for ya."

She gestured with her head back to the booth, where Ignis could see Gladio gesticulating angrily at Prompto while Prompto looked down at the table, which was somehow artfully dotted in arcs of ketchup spatters. How had that happened? Their food hadn't even arrived yet.

"Yeah, sure," Takka said as he reached under the counter. He tossed her a damp rag, and she casually raised a hand to snatch it from the air.

"Cheers," she said with a smile as she held it up in mock toast. She was about to turn back to the booth when Takka stopped her.

"Hey, Laura. I was thinkin'. You happen to have any of that levain on you that you were talkin' about? Been meanin' to beef up my sandwiches a bit. Homemade bread might be the trick."

This time when she smiled widely in response, the tip of her tongue poked out to touch the top row of her teeth through her open-mouthed grin, and Ignis thought the effect looked . . . odd on her aristocratic features. "Yeah, keep some outside in the car. I'll bring it in before we leave. If ya got flour, we can feed it after I split it, an' I can give ya what I spoon off. You can start your own culture from it."

Ignis assumed 'outside in the car' was code for 'in the armiger,' as they had all agreed to not exactly keep their identities a secret, but certainly not draw undue attention to themselves. Since levain was one of the many odd items that couldn't be kept in their armiger, however, he wasn't so certain. He didn't recall seeing or smelling a jar of levain anywhere in the car, so perhaps she kept it in the same place she had pulled her weapons from yesterday in the throne room.

"Thanks!" he said. "Don't forget to bring that rag back. They keep walkin' off on me."

"Will do." She waved and turned to head back to the booth.

Ignis ordered another can of Ebony, thanked Takka for his help, and followed. She was still leaning over the table and wiping it down when he slid into his seat. Had she even sat down yet?

"Absolutely hopeless," Gladio muttered under his breath.

"I'm really sorry you guys," Prompto said quietly, his eyes still downcast.

Laura folded the rag over so she could continue wiping with a clean side. "Honestly, Prompto, it's no big deal. It didn't get on anyone's clothes, so Ignis doesn't have to do any extra work tonight. No harm done."

Even though he felt a quick prick of irritation, he couldn't fault her for her offhanded remark regarding his doing the laundry this evening, as he'd volunteered himself for that particular task when he realized they would be camping and would need to hand-wash their sweaty clothes. He certainly trusted _no one_ with his silk coeurl print, and Noct's fatigues needed to be stretched out properly to dry, else he would appear as though he'd just rolled out of bed fully dressed. At that point, it was simply easier just to do everyone's laundry and ensure they all represented the Crown with pride by appearing their best.

"So, Specs, what's on the agenda?" Noct asked as the waitress set their orders down in front of each of them.

As Ignis proposed his plan, Laura finished wiping the table and headed back to the counter to return the rag, taking her glass of ice water with her.

"Aww, man. Camping? I was kinda hoping we could stay in the camper tonight," Prompto said, and Noct nodded in agreement.

"Please sit up and chew with your mouth closed, Highness," Ignis sighed wearily. Even if they weren't recognized out here, there was absolutely no excuse to allow the Prince's etiquette to slip simply because of the veil of anonymity. Ignis could only imagine the state of his manners at the wedding in that case, where the papers would report Lady Lunafreya's marriage to an unkempt vagrant who gnawed at the bones of his meal like a half-starved sabertusk.

"Ugh, will you just relax already?" Noct muttered under his breath as he sat up.

"You got a problem with camping now?" Gladio demanded of Prompto.

His voice grew higher in pitch as he backpedaled. "I mean, camping sounds fun and all, but after the day we've had, I kinda wanted some soft beds, a real shower."

"With our money situation being what it is, it isn't prudent to spend funds on accommodations when there are free options available," Ignis said, though he secretly agreed that real showering facilities would be ideal after the day they'd had.

With his final word on the matter, the rest of their meal was spent in silence. He centered his attention on the dish in front of him—a garula cutlet that had a surprisingly light yet crunchy crust to it. Though he could do without the blanket of tomato sauce making the crisp, grilled bread soggy, he considered it a rather fine, if heavy meal, but he supposed they would all be getting enough exercise out here so as to require the additional calories. Pulling off the bread, he inspected the layers carefully.

"I daresay I could recreate this," he muttered softly to himself.

"What was that, Iggy?" Gladio asked.

Ignis looked up. "Oh, nothing. Apologies."

The four of them were almost finished eating when he suddenly realized that Laura had _still_ not sat down with them. His gaze wandered over the busy diner until he caught a flash of her black hair behind the counter, where she appeared to be spooning a jar of what he assumed to be levain into another jar.

"What the hell is she doing back there?" Noct asked, noticing where Ignis's attention had been drawn.

"I believe she promised the proprietor some of her levain. It's used for making sourdough breads," he explained, knowing they would have no idea what levain was. He was somewhat impressed that Laura traveled with her own. She must have been an avid baker, which was odd, given the lack of knowledge of culinary arts she had shown thus far. Making good sourdough bread was a precise and difficult art if one wished to do it properly, and it was hardly a practice of high nobility to make their own breads, given that most households kept their own bakers on retainer.

The more he learned about her, the less she seemed to make sense. And with that thought, his intention to correct that niggling irritation in the back of his mind as soon as they set up the haven solidified into a full-fledged plan. Using the knowledge he'd obtained from his studies beforehand, he would teach her to forage, where he could ask his questions and find out more about her without distraction.

"Seems to make friends pretty fast," Gladio noted, "if she's gotten behind the counter already."

"Wonder why no one else seems to feel how we do about her," Noct added.

As Laura waved Takka away from the counter, pulled a pitcher of water from the shelf behind her, and poured it for a customer sitting at a stool, Ignis thought it likely that the others' dislike was because she had been forced upon them, and they were being puerile. However, he thought it wise that he hold his tongue—for now.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

We've had a few discussions about this in the Discord group, and I have to say that I agree that any town in the game is merely a representation and not a complete rendering. Where would Cid and Cindy live? Takka? Where is Tony's restaurant? Bathrooms, hospitals, libraries . . . the one diner they visited in Brotherhood. I have to assume there is more than what we see, so any settlement would have some small number of private houses and small businesses around it and not just what we're allowed to explore.

Note on the armiger: I doubt the guys ran around with all that gear strapped to their backs in invisible backpacks. So I guess my rule is that anything they have on them in game or supplemental material can be put in the armiger, while anything else can't. The armiger is different than Noct's Royal Armiger.

Also, I realize Prompto was driving when the car broke down, but having Ignis as the one driving saved me a couple hundred words of useless exposition, which I'll sometimes do if it doesn't impact the story.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ugh, why's it gotta be such a long walk? Haven't we walked enough today already?" Noct complained, kicking his way through the dry brown dirt. Puffs of dust billowed out from under his treads as he aimed a particularly frustrated punt at a gray-green tuft of grass, but the second he'd taken a step forward, the wind kicked up and blew the cloud back into his face.

Great. Just great.

"The journey would be far easier if you would pick up your feet, Highness," Ignis pointed out—ignoring Noct's suffering as he spluttered out a cough and wiped at the grime sticking to his sweaty skin.

Noct waited until he'd taken several steps ahead of him before tossing a silent sneer at his back. Gods, he was being such a pain in the ass. Seriously, he wasn't even sure the guy was human after a day like today—trudging along that asphalt, taking the time to comment on Noct's manners, and _still_ wearing that blazer in this heat?

"Man, I can't believe Cindy's gonna be slaving away all day in this heat—probably all night, too," Prompto said, wiping at his brow.

"I'd say it's likely, given the queue," Laura answered.

"She certainly didn't seem to mind," Ignis said.

Gladio groaned a little as he raised his left hand high in the air, stretching his shoulder. "Sounds like sleep comes second to her work."

Noct couldn't really put his finger on the feeling eating away at him, but he managed to keep it out of is tone as he said, "Helps it's her dream job."

"She does get really passionate when she talks about cars, doesn't she?" Prompto asked, skipping up to his side to grin at him like a lovestruck idiot.

"Yeah. It's actually pretty cute," Gladio chuckled.

Laura glanced over her shoulder from where she'd been walking ahead with Ignis. "And it will be particularly adorable when she helps Cid get us back on the road again."

Her tone wasn't exactly cold, but it was that same, dry, formal attitude Ignis would always put off, and Gladio seemed to notice, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two leading them to the massive gray stone rising above the flat desert floor.

Noct had noticed it too—had been noticing it all day. Specs was fascinated with the new girl, but Noct didn't get it. She was just like every single airheaded aristocrat they both used to make jokes about at all the charity balls and state dinners as they chased Gladio across the dance floor—much to Gladio's enjoyment. But Specs watched her every move like she was the most interesting puzzle he'd ever seen—or a snake about to strike.

For once, he didn't care what Ignis thought. Noct didn't like her. What he couldn't understand was how Ignis could voluntarily walk so close to her when sitting next to her in that car for hours on end had just about killed . . . _one_ of them, Noct wasn't sure which.

Prompto elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey, you reckon she's taken?"

"Huh?"

"Cindy!"

"I don't think so," Gladio said doubtfully.

"Pfft, and _you'd_ know," Noct scoffed. It was no secret anywhere in the Crown City that Gladio got around. While he had to admit he was always impressed watching Gladio work, Noct wasn't really interested in what all he got up to in his free time. The whole thing—stringing along all those girls—sounded exhausting to him.

Gladio shrugged. "Not exactly hard to tell. She's got a pretty strong defense."

"Even to someone like you?" Prompto asked.

Gladio looked back to Noct with that devious look in his eye, which was the only reason Noct had time to duck before Gladio could cuff him around the neck to rub a fist through his hair like he hated. Gladio chuckled at the loss and shook his head.

"Curious as I am to see, my priority's keeping 'His Highness' safe."

The three of them looked forward when they heard Laura's muttered, "Cindy has far more brains than people give her credit for."

"Whaddya mean by that?" Gladio asked accusingly over Ignis's snort of derision.

When she turned around, Noct, Gladio, and Prompto stiffened a little, afraid she was gonna come back to join them to explain, but she stayed in her spot next to Ignis as she spoke.

"I overheard some people talking in town, so I introduced myself and got to chatting. It appears as though Cindy's parents had taken over the garage when Cid started slowing down, but then they were attacked by daemons. Cindy was just a child at the time."

"Wow . . . so she lost both her parents when she was little? She must be so strong," Prompto breathed.

"The garage was suffering until she took over. Poor Cid just couldn't keep things running on his own. I wouldn't let her appearance fool you. You can wager she knows well what effect that outfit has on business. Call it marketing, if you will, since it certainly isn't any good for working on cars."

"A cunning scheme," Ignis said, "as the garage does seem to have a venerated reputation for its impeccable service as well as its . . . staff."

"Well, people do what they must when times are tough. She clearly loves her work, and someone as dedicated as she is? She'll fight tooth and nail for what she loves."

"Wow, so she's smart and strong, _and_ she loves machines. She's _perfect_ ," Prompto sighed.

"How did you manage to learn all this so quickly?" Ignis asked, narrowing his eyes at Laura.

"I watch. I listen. I ask questions and get to know people."

"I watch and listen as well," Ignis retorted, and if Noct wasn't mistaken, he sounded a little insulted and defensive. Safe from his line of sight, Noct let his lips twitch up into a smirk. It sounded like the dumb girl was giving Specs a run for his money. Maybe that meant they'd keep busy enough competing with each other that they'd lay off him for a while. "In fact, I made a most troubling discovery in town earlier. There is a prevailing sense of discrimination against Insomnians here in the outlands, so we may have to keep a lower profile than I had anticipated."

"That's not too surprising, given how the Glaives are doing in the city," Gladio said.

"You mean to say that you knew about this?"

"I don't just train with the Guard, ya know."

Noct stopped listening to the political chat as he let his eyes wander out over the horizon. The desert was dry, rocky, dead-looking, and hot, but he didn't care. If he could get Ignis off his back for the next three weeks, nothing would be expected of him until the ceremony. The idea that he wasn't a prince out here, that he wasn't even a Caelum, felt like a weight had been suddenly lifted so he could breathe freely for the first time in his life, and just this once, he didn't wanna be reminded about the Glaive, the Crownsguard, the treaty, or the fact that even this one trip had to be taken with three bodyguards.

As though Ignis had been reading his thoughts, he broke from his conversation with Gladio and looked back to Noct with a soft smile. "This scenery is completely different, is it not?"

"From the Crown City?" Prompto asked before Noct could search for an answer.

"Yeah."

"Of course it is. But there weren't beasts and daemons either."

Gladio sloppily emptied the last of his water bottle, letting the dregs drip over his lips and down his sweaty neck. With the flick of his wrist, he dismissed the bottle and pointed toward Prompto. "Nature's beauty comes with danger. That's how it works in the wild. It's definitely no place for a moonlight stroll, but it's not all bad."

"Yeah," Noct agreed, "I kinda like it. It'd be even more peaceful if we didn't have to walk."

"We're nearly there," Ignis answered on a sigh, pointing to the stone platform ahead. Now that they'd drawn closer, Noct could see that it was covered in glowing blue shapes—series of scribbled circles connected by overlapping lines—forming a scrawled, messy geometric pattern. "Hard to imagine daemons in the night are a fact of everyday life for the locals here."

"I imagine we're about to get used to everyday life out here when the sun goes down tonight," Laura said.

"Well, I'll never get used to them, that's for sure. The Crystal and the Wall work for me," Prompto said.

Ignis glanced back at Noct from the corner of his eye, frowning. "Ah, but not without the King to uphold them."

A heavy slap to his shoulder lurched him out of the thoughts already beginning to claw at his brain, and Noct looked up to see Gladio smirking down at him with that challenge in his eyes like they were about to start a spar. "That job'll fall to you someday, Noct. Hmph. Think you'll be up to it?"

"I'll see what I can do, okay?" Noct snapped back. He stared down at his shoelaces, now covered in a fine layer of golden-brown dirt, as they rhythmically passed beneath his line of vision with each step. Three weeks. He just wanted three weeks to not have to think about this kinda shit anymore. But Gladio and Ignis especially were so duty-bound to the idea of him becoming King, he didn't think they'd ever be able to understand what kind of pressure they put on him when they talked like this.

He stepped up onto the stone ramp behind Gladio and stopped when they were all lined up along the edge of the large circular stone slab that overlooked the scene for miles in the distance. If he squinted into the haze on the horizon, he thought he could make out the back of Hammerhead's garage. Piles of enormous boulders set into the dust surrounded them on all sides, scattered out to the distant mountains set between massive walls. Tiny farms and silos dotted the area, and Noct wondered what could possibly grow out here beyond the scraggly gray grass and leggy bushes they'd passed. Just to the right of their campsite, where the stone dropped off a good eight feet to the hard-packed dirt below, he could see a small square of corrugated tin sheeting—what looked like the roof of a rustic wooden shed.

"Uh, is that supposed to be the bathroom?" Noct asked, pointing.

"It's called an outhouse," Laura answered. "And honestly, I wasn't even expecting that much."

"Man," Prompto sighed. "We have it good in the Crown City."

"And not only the accommodations," Ignis agreed.

"Hanging in the street after dark," Noct said.

"Pickin' up late night snacks," Prompto added.

"Worst you had to worry about was waking the neighbors," Gladio said. He let out a long, contented sigh as he looked out to the mountain chains on the horizon in every direction, so far away that they appeared no more than ridges forming a boundary on the world. "Guess we don't got any neighbors to worry about out here except for the ones keeping _us_ awake tonight."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Prompto asked nervously. "One night out here, and we'd be eaten alive."

"Hardly. The Oracles' runes are what sanctify these havens," Ignis replied, gesturing to the glowing writing etched deep into the floor.

"Never appreciated the Oracles' power until out here in the wild," Gladio said, summoning the tent bag to his hands.

"Benediction, purification, and healing are the province of the Oracle." Ignis stepped forward commandingly, examining the space before shielding his eyes with an arm and looking up toward the sun. "Now. The sun should rise over there in the morning, Gladio, so I would set the tent up over here, facing in this direction," he said, pointing out what he wanted.

Gladio nodded and dropped the bag where he'd indicated, unzipping it and laying out the stretch of dark gray fabric. "Sounds pretty impressive that she can wield all that magic without the King."

"I can speak to the healing," Noct said as he summoned the four camp chairs. He had no doubt Specs was gonna get on his back for not doing enough to set up, so he figured he could fiddle around with unfolding and deciding where to put them for a while before he noticed and gave him another task.

"Ahhh . . . that injury from when you were little," Prompto said.

"Yep."

"The winds seemed to have prevailed to the south, Noct, so be sure to set the chairs to the north of the fire," Ignis said as he awkwardly unfolded the first chair. "I suppose I'll get started on setting up the kitchen so we can have ourselves a proper meal after today's exertions—once we return from foraging, of course."

"Man, take it easy. We're camping here, not setting up for battle," Gladio answered. "Did you hear 'em all talking in the diner about Lady Lunafreya? Now I know why everyone makes such a big deal about her."

Prompto fidgeted a little before heading over to a small pile of sticks someone had left near the fire ring. He began arranging them into a pile before he said, "All this time, I had no idea."

"Start with the smaller branches first, Prompto. And be sure to leave plenty of space for air to pass through, but not too much," Ignis said. As he turned back to the foldout table he was setting up to carefully watch Laura as she pulled his camp stove out of its box, Prompto raised his eyebrows at Noct, who shrugged. "In this case," Ignis continued without looking back in their direction, "you're not at fault for your ignorance. We've been cut off from the Empire all our lives. Her miracles never reached the Crown City."

"She's like, the only one who can do magic the King can't even do, right?" Prompto asked.

"Well," Ignis replied hesitantly, "House Caelum is capable of healing through the supplementation of potions and phoenix downs, enchanting weapons with the power of light—that sort of thing. But according to legend, House Flueret was gifted this language—" he gestured to the floor—"directly from Ramuh himself just after the War of the Astrals."

"Well then why don't they just write that stuff all over the towns to keep them safe?" Noct asked.

"Power comes at a cost."

Everything went still for a second as all four of them turned to look at Laura, who had said the sentence so suddenly and so heavily that the message seemed to be delivered from the gods themselves. Having unfolded all the chairs except for one, Noct moved to the south side of the fire ring and began unfolding the one he'd claimed as his—both to irritate Specs and so that he could better watch the others.

"I imagine it does," Ignis finally answered after a few seconds in a softer voice. "And Lady Lunafreya is the only one capable of using it. Even the name of the language is a complete secret to all but the Oracle line."

Noct leaned back into his chair and watched the others work for a bit, letting the burn from his sore feet throb as he stretched his legs out. Prompto, who was humming his favorite Afrojack song and arranging the wood, looked up at him and shot him a wink before going back to work. Gladio seemed to be struggling with setting up the pile of fabric and plastic that was somehow supposed to serve as their shelter tonight.

"Okay, what?" Gladio muttered to himself, holding five different-sized poles up to his face to inspect the writing on them. "None of these says A-5, and I'm s'posed to have five of them?"

Noct held back his snicker so he wouldn't get caught slacking and looked over at "the perfect area of the haven" Specs had chosen for his kitchen area, not that Noct could tell why any of these things needed to be arranged so exactly. As Ignis fiddled with the knobs and buttons on the camp stove, Laura seemed to be toying with one of the lanterns on a pole nearby—carefully attaching a small, white silk baggie to the inside.

She seemed friendly enough to him—definitely weird—but now that he wasn't trapped in that tiny back seat practically pressed against her, she'd become tolerable, at least. With her having to sit so close to him for so long . . . he shuddered at the thought of having to get back in the car with her.

He'd thought he'd lost his mind the second he'd slid into that seat next to her and shut the door. A foreboding sense of wrongness had washed over him suddenly and violently—so violently that instinct had screamed at him to summon his sword to his hand and stab her through the heart. But the fact that he'd never actually _wanted_ to kill anything in his life or how much the instinct to do so freaked him out didn't seem to matter. The feeling hadn't subsided one bit as the miles had flown beneath him—lessening only the tiniest amount each time he slid from the back seat to take his turn to drive.

At least it wasn't just him. Gladio and Prompto had made it clear they were feeling that same desire to either get away from her or end her life. He was pretty sure Ignis was just trying to be tough or polite about the whole thing, but Noct bet he felt it too. No doubt 'Mr. Perfect' just didn't wanna admit he was feeling murderous for no apparent reason.

What could his dad have been thinking, sending her along with them? He guessed that sword fight in the gown had something to do with it, but he had trouble believing that the mysterious warrior who beat Cor the Immortal and this girl were the same person. Only Ignis's word made him think otherwise.

As she leaned up on her tiptoes to replace the glass cover over the lamp—what the hell was she doing, anyway?—he studied her clothes. At least she wasn't wearing a gown now. She was dressed just like one of the Glaives that had run into them outside his old room at the Citadel yesterday, with thigh-high combat boots, a form-fitting fatigue suit, and a short, high-collared jacket. Her long hair was clipped into a loose twist with a few long, dark tendrils falling around her face. The only personal item he could see was a necklace—a blue crystal disc that matched her eyes, covered by a silver tree and hanging from a chain of silver links. He had no idea where she was keeping her weapons. She'd implied that his dad had given her access to the Crystal's powers on the drive out of the city, but she hadn't placed anything into their armiger yet, as far as he knew.

"You've done that before," Ignis said, looking over at her with a furrowed brow.

"Once or twice," she said casually. "It isn't as though it's terribly complicated." Without warning, she turned toward Noct, and he quickly looked away and back at her so it didn't seem too obvious he'd been staring. "Noctis? I . . .—" She hesitated a moment, biting her bottom lip before raising her head high and continuing in a stronger voice. "I'm afraid I won't be able to join you all in tomorrow's hunt—or any hunt, for that matter."

Gladio and Prompto stopped what they were doing to stare openly at her, and Noct noticed that while Specs kept up the appearance of setting up the stove, his movements had slowed to not make a sound.

"Uh . . . why not?" Noct asked.

She took a deep breath before replying, "I'll protect you when your life is in danger, and I'll fight daemons with you, but I will not—no— _can_ nothunt down animals."

"Even if they're threatening people's lives and stuff?" Prompto asked. "That Hunter guy we traded with to get the meat said they were getting sick or something—going crazy and hurting people."

She turned toward Prompto, frowning. "It's complicated. Call it a personal philosophy. I won't stop any of you from doing your own hunts; I'm not the sort to inflict my beliefs on others, but I'm telling you now that I cannot help you in this."

"Hmm. Not much use to us then, are you?" Gladio grunted, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I'll do all I can within those bounds, but not in this, no. I must offer my apologies; the King didn't quite prepare me for this trip." She glanced around the campsite subtly, but even Noct could tell that possibly camping had been included in the things his dad hadn't told her. He had to say he wasn't all that surprised, since his dad was always close-lipped about _everything_.

"Fine," Noct shrugged. "We have enough in the group to handle the hunts anyway." It didn't really matter to him if she stayed behind for this whole trip, and anyway, it'd probably be best if she remained at the haven so he could get a break from her.

Gladio let out a final grunt of disapproval before stalking away toward the haven ramp. "Nobody better touch that shit," he growled, pointing back to the pile of fabric and poles. "Gonna go for a walk to get some more firewood, but I'll get to it when I get back."

It didn't look to Noct like they needed any more than they had already, but he said, "Yeah, sure."

"Do be certain to return well before dark," Ignis cautioned.

Gladio stopped on the ramp and turned. "Ig. Relax. I know."

Ignis shrugged. "Very well, if you insist." Noct ducked in his chair so he wouldn't be noticed as Ignis turned back to his stove, but he did a double-take and addressed him. "Noct, as long as you're . . . resting, you may as well take the opportunity to use the energy deposits and put together some elemental spells." He unrolled his utensil pack across the spare table Laura had just unfolded for him. "They may prove useful for tomorrow."

Noct sighed and staggered to his feet, heading toward the three deposits he'd spotted before they headed up the ramp. "Yeah, whatever."

Ignis had been on his ass all morning for the stupidest stuff—his language, his posture, his eating habits. He didn't get it—they'd left the city behind, and hardly anyone knew he was the Prince. This was supposed to be his bachelor party—a final moment of freedom. He thought the guy'd lighten up for a change now that the whole world wasn't watching, but instead, he seemed to have only gotten worse.

One by one, Noct drained the energy that had gathered over time in each of the elemental stones—growing hot and sweaty as he collected the fire, shaky and sick with the electricity, and shivery with ice. Feeling nauseated, he stumbled back up to his camp chair and collapsed back into it, taking several deep breaths to calm himself and settle his trembling limbs.

"Why do those elemental deposits even exist out here if Noctis and his father are the only ones in the world that can use them?" he heard Laura ask, but he didn't open his eyes to answer her pointless question. It didn't really matter, did it? His dad had told him he'd have access to them at any haven, and he'd never thought to question why.

"They aren't here merely for convenience's sake," Ignis answered. "Havens were constructed by Oracles on top of intersections of natural magical ley lines—sites where magic is particularly powerful. Those elemental stones pre-date the havens and act as a release for the pent-up energy, though they've been rendered mostly useless, since the havens now serve that function."

"So now they collect just enough to max out their reservoir, and the haven uses the excess to power the runes? But then that leaves a convenient node for elemental siphoning."

"Indeed—a perfect place for House Caelum to gather what they need." His voice darkened from vaguely impressed to frustrated, as though he was trying not to grit his teeth. "And _perhaps_ create some spells for us to use tomorrow."

"All right, all right. Get off my back," Noct groaned as he sat up and summoned a flask to his hand.

"I dunno why we bother with those. They do as much damage to us as they do to what we're attacking," Prompto complained from where he was still crouched next to the fire ring, rearranging the wood—again.

Noct secretly agreed. The last training session they'd had as a group, Noct had electrocuted the entire party with a stray thunder spell, and Ignis had used every opportunity he could for the next two days to use the word "shocking" in a conversation just to piss him off.

Ignis sighed. "Because they're a potent resource to have in case we need them."

"I'm trying to make 'em less unpredictable, but it's hard," Noct said, cupping the flask in his hands and staring down at it. No matter how many lessons he'd had with his dad or Ignis, it seemed like he would never be any good at this magic stuff.

"I have a lot of experience with elemental magic," Laura said, "though not the kind that you use. Do you mind if I feel you make one? I may be able to help make your spells less erratic."

 _Feel_ him make one? What the hell was that supposed to mean? And how could anyone use elemental magic that wasn't from the Crystal? Whatever she was offering, he definitely didn't want any part of it. "Uhh, thanks, but I think I learned all I could from Ignis."

It was weird, but he felt kinda bad when her expression fell a little. "Oh. All right then. I'm going to go help Gladio collect firewood. I'll be back in a few minutes to go foraging, Ignis," she said, pointing her thumb in the direction Gladio had walked off in.

Dread washed over him as Ignis's head snapped up in his direction. He strode toward Noct's chair with that frown on his face that let him know he was about to be chewed out, so he braced himself for impact when Ignis leaned in close.

"Highness, if her magical prowess equals one-half her skills with the blade, it would behoove you to take her up on her offer," he said in a low, rushed voice. "Please, call her back." Before Noct could respond or refuse, he straightened and walked quickly back to his kitchen station.

Gods damn it, Noct didn't want her any closer to him than she had to be; he didn't really wanna be working on this crap at all. How could Ignis stand to be so close to her like he'd been all day?

Rolling his eyes at Ignis's back, he reluctantly called out, "Actually, Laura, could you come back? Maybe I could use your advice."

Her smile was bright when she turned around, and for a second, Noct could kinda see why the people in Hammerhead liked her so much. But as she came closer, that crawling feeling crept up on him again, and his moment of thinking that way disappeared as though it'd never existed.

She kneeled in front of his chair and put her hands on either side of his, leaving a few centimeters of space between them before pausing, and the prickling needles traveling up through his fingers into his forearms were already making him want to summon a sword and jam it through her heart. What the hell _was_ that?

"I'm just going to put my hands on yours. This is going to feel . . . odd. I'm sorry. May I?"

Did that mean she was aware of how she made him feel, or was this gonna be some new terrible feeling? He tried not to clench his jaw at her as he nodded. At least she'd asked permission first, he guessed.

As she brought her hands to his, he couldn't help but shudder in revulsion. This was more than weirdness, more than needles. This was stabbing, burning pain. But it was still bearable, so he schooled his features and forced himself to look at her. Six, that bloodlust he'd never felt in his entire life was rising inside him, practically begging him to end her life right this second, as he met her perfectly friendly eyes.

Her brow pulled down into a frown. "Is this okay?" she asked, and feeling a little more under control at the concern in her voice, he nodded. "Then go ahead and do the spell. I'll just feel you this time and assist the next time, okay?"

Closing his eyes and focusing on the elements swirling in his body, he concentrated on bringing the fire energy to his fingertips and pushing it into the glass like his dad had taught him when he'd turned twelve.

"I see what the problem is," she said softly. He opened his eyes to see that hers were still closed. The pain in his hands disappeared the second she removed hers, but the weird feeling and the need to reach out and snap her neck lingered like the pain from a slap to the face. He squirmed a little in his seat against the feeling, and she seemed to notice, leaning back a little. "You have to become familiar with the energy you're using on a personal level. With each spell you craft, you need to leave a piece of your energy within it so that it _knows_ you and your allies when it's released again."

Noct unclenched his jaw to answer. "That's not something I was taught. You talk like the elements are living things."

"In a way, they are. Try again. I'll help this time, pushing some of my energy and pulling some of yours into the spell."

The knives stabbing up his bones returned when he summoned a new flask and she put her hands back on him. But as he gathered the fire and pushed it to the container, the air around him shrieked as though the world itself was in pain, and a bolt of pure lava seemed to shoot from her fingertips up his arms. He slammed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth harder against the pain, but it intensified the longer he tried to fight against it. Noct gasped as he snatched his hands away, and the flask full of pure fire elemental energy dropped from his shaking fingers onto the stone floor of the haven.

"Noct!" Ignis and Prompto yelled.

Time seemed to slow as he heard the glass shattering with a sharp, tinkling sound at his feet, but the flat tent, the kitchen area, and the sight of Ignis and Prompto hurtling toward them was immediately obscured by a wall of bright orange, billowing flame that swallowed them both whole.

When the pain he'd expected didn't come, Noct looked up at the roaring fire inches away from his nose with a calm kind of acceptance. It was weird, he thought, sitting oddly calm in a chair engulfed by a fire like this. He couldn't see Laura anymore as he waited in a surrealistic daze to feel something, but all he noticed was that even his arms felt fine now that Laura wasn't touching him.

It was almost disappointing when the flames started dissipating. The dancing inferno had been kinda cool to watch.

The first person he saw when the fire curled away into the fresh air was Laura, her eyes wide and panicked as she stood and stepped back from him, her hands held up in a gesture of surrender. Prompto stood frozen with his hand reaching out uselessly for them. Ignis was the only one moving—advancing on them with two potions in his clenched fists. On seeing the two of them perfectly fine, he stopped suddenly—dismissing the potions, rushing to Noct's side, and patting at his jacket to check for injuries.

"Oh my gods, I'm so sorry," Laura said shakily, lowering her hands and taking another step back. "I didn't think it would hurt you, too. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, probably sounding a little too impatient as he waved Ignis away. "Just surprised me is all."

"Really, Noctis, I am so, so sorry. I swear; I didn't mean to hurt you."

He shrugged. It wasn't like there'd been any permanent damage. "It's cool. Guess your method works."

"Still, that wasn't the best way to find out."

"No, probably not. Think you just gave Specs a heart attack," he chuckled.

"Hardly."

"But I think I can do what you did myself now." It was actually really easy, and he wondered why no one had taught him this before.

Laura didn't say anything as she collapsed in Gladio's camp chair with a sigh, folding her legs beneath her and resting her cheeks in her hands.

Prompto plopped in his chair and pulled his camera out. "All right! Does that mean we won't get electrocuted anymore?"

Laura's eyes went wide at his words. "You've been . . . electrocuting them?"

"Just the one time," Noct said defensively. "It was an accident."

"Thrice," Ignis interrupted from his prep station. "And that's not including the other elements. I believe I recall there was an incident where you nearly singed off Gladio's trousers. He was burning mad at you for a week after."

"All right, 'thrice,' then," Noct snapped back with air quotes. He swore he was gonna put dirt in Specs's shoes tomorrow morning if he kept it up. Did Ignis want to make him look bad or something in front of the new girl?

Speaking of looking bad, he was gonna get another lecture if he forgot to bring this up. "Hey, Specs? I popped a couple of buttons off my jacket today. You mind sewing them back on?"

"Certainly, Highness," Ignis said. "Though I can't imagine how you managed to achieve such a feat, given the nature of your exertions today. Just put it in the armiger, and I'll take care of it after I tie up loose ends after supper."

After a few moments of silence, Prompto turned to Laura and held out his camera. "Didn't you say before you wanted to see my pics?"

That bright smile spread over Laura's face as she turned to Prompto. He grinned back at her like a fool. Gods, they looked like they were auditioning for a toothpaste commercial.

"Really? Yeah, course I do." As she reached put for the camera, Noct noticed that she carefully twisted her hand at an angle to make sure she didn't touch Prompto's skin.

As she clicked through the photos, stopping to smile or inspect certain shots more closely, Prompto kept leaning forward and taking a breath to speak, then flinching and sitting back in his chair. Unbelievable. The guy'd finally found a pretty girl interested in his photos, and he couldn't stand to even get near her. Noct bet it must've been extra uncomfortable for him—a regular person who'd never been trained to kill anything until recently—to be feeling like he wanted to murder a girl like Laura.

"You have a lot of pictures of animals in here. You must really like them. That one of the . . . rhinoceros thing is beautiful with the rock formations in the background like that."

Prompto tilted his head in confusion before looking to Noct, who shrugged. He'd never heard of a rhinoceros either.

"What's a rhinoceros?" Prompto asked. "Lemme see." She tilted the camera in his direction, and Prompto's eyes met Noct's briefly again as he said, "Ohhhhh. Um, no. That's a dualhorn."

Seriously? The four of them might not have known a lot about the wildlife outside the city, but there were dualhorns in the zoo back in Insomnia. They learned about them in First Year. Hell, one of Noct's favorite toys growing up had been a whole herd of little plastic dualhorns.

"Dualhorn, got it. Thanks," she said with a smile and a nod.

Prompto awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck and leaned forward as much as he could stand. "So . . . whaddya think?"

"They're fantastic," she said immediately and enthusiastically. "This really is a great way to record our trip. But you've got to make sure to hand the camera off to me now and then so you can get in some shots, yeah?"

"Oh! That's not even necessary! This baby's got a timer on it, and I brought a tripod," he said, bobbing his head.

Her voice grew soft and breathless as she looked up at the sky, "You should do a photo shoot tonight! It's been a crystal-clear day, and there are so few trees here to block our view. Imagine what this place will look like come nightfall. This far outside the lights of the city? I guarantee you the sky will be awash with ten billion stars. You'll need to break out that tripod to hold the camera still for long exposures."

Prompto seemed to vibrate with excitement as he jumped from his seat. "What a great idea! I didn't even think of that. Never seen the stars before. I'm gonna find the perfect angle to take shots from. Wanna come with?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, but Ignis promised he'd teach me to forage this afternoon."

"Aww, okay. But I definitely want your help with the settings tonight, if, you know, you want to?"

"I'd love to! Soon as we get back." Looking over to where Ignis was setting his cooking utensils just so, she called out to him, "Are you ready to set out?"

Ignis adjusted the angle of his spatula on the table, turned to her, and nodded. "Yes, I believe I am." As they headed to the ramp together, Noct noticed that Ignis didn't flinch at all as he drew close enough to walk next to her. Why did her weird thing seem to bother him more than it did the others?

When they'd walked far enough to be out of earshot, Prompto said, "She's really not so bad as long as you don't get too close. She's actually pretty nice."

"Doesn't matter. It's still really, really bad for me," Noct said.

Touching her was unbearable. Being anywhere near her was too close to the edge of pain. How was he supposed to get back in the car with her in a couple of days? Ignis definitely wasn't gonna do much driving this trip if he was gonna insist on them keeping her. Leaning his head back to look at the blue sky stretching above him, he figured she was at least making an effort to fit in with the team, he guessed. Maybe he'd get used to her like Ignis and Prompto seemed to be.

"Whaddya think about her no hunting thing?" Prompto asked. Noct looked up to see him fiddling with his camera lens and refusing to meet his eyes.

He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. "Seemed like a lame explanation, but whatever. She can stay here at the haven—far from us."

"Yeah," Prompto chuckled falsely. "Totally lame."

"Are _you_ gonna be okay with it?"

"Y-yeah! Why wouldn't I be?"

"Cause of your thing for animals."

He slapped his hand in the air before letting it fall to his lap, but Noct noticed that he still hadn't lifted his eyes from his camera. "Pfft. No problem. I got this!"

"If you say so."

Prompto placed the camera on the ground next to him, stretched his legs out, and leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. After looking up at the sky with a dreamy expression on his face for a couple seconds, he let out a long, contented sigh.

"She's out of my league, but we have so much in common."

"Who're you imagining this time?" he asked, not completely disguising the amusement in his voice.

He narrowed his eyes up at the cloudless sky, determination hardening his expression into resolve. "When all this is over, I'm gonna visit her in Hammerhead."

"Oh, her." He hesitated, the question seeming to catch in his throat for a second before he finally blurted out, "Hey, whaddya think you'll do after this trip? Really."

Prompto sucked in a lungful of air and held it for a few seconds before letting it out in a long, slow breath. "I dunno, dude. No idea. Still tryin' to find . . . _it_ , ya know?"

Noct knew exactly what it felt like to be searching for "it," whatever it was supposed to be. His purpose in life was something he'd rather not think about though, because Prompto had one advantage that Noct would never admit he envied the hell out of—the freedom to choose. Noct might not feel complete and at peace with himself when he got back from this trip like Prompto was hoping to, but he did know exactly what lay in store for him. The second he got settled, Gladio and Ignis—and probably Laura now—were gonna drag him off for the Bonding of Souls tour, at which point, he'd be ready to take over for his dad as King should anything happen.

All he knew was that he wasn't ready.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

I cut, pasted, and rearranged a lot of the "camping around Hammerhead" dialogue, and I also mixed the English with a translation from the Japanese, provided by Spelldaggers's translation blog.

We're giving them outhouses. While toilet necessities aren't often covered in fanfiction—I think there's good reason for that. I didn't want to pretend it didn't exist, and yet I really don't feel like having to deal with privacy issues on havens where there is none, hole digging, etc. Just give me this, okay?


	5. Chapter 5

Despite his weariness, Ignis took extra care to pick up his feet as they walked the dusty plains of the Weaverwilds, though it would probably do little to spare his boots from needing a decent once over this evening. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in a lungful of clean, untamed air, allowing it to settle deep into his blood. Casting his eyes over the desiccated tufts of grass, the delicate grey-green bushes, the craggy piles of golden rocks, and the rugged mountains in the distance, he could plainly see now why outlanders called this place 'the wild.' There was no law out here, no standard of order, but nor was there bureaucracy, meetings to attend, or connections to be made.

He himself felt a little wild out here in this lawless land.

Under the guise of looking past her for more patches of wild tomatoes, he stole a glance at Laura—such a shame that all that talent should be laid to waste on a woman who refused to hunt. He couldn't fault her for her personal philosophy, but then why become a soldier? Had the King been made aware of her limitations before assigning her on this mission? Hunting hadn't been a certainty, but it had always been a possibility for this trip. Fortunately for Noct, he had more than Laura to rely on for safety now that they were no longer merely spending the night in Galdin and departing for Altissia, but what good would she be to any of them if the Prince were attacked and the rest of them were indisposed? These "personal philosophies" of hers certainly limited her usefulness to the group, and Ignis had formed nearly as unimpressed an opinion as Gladio on the matter.

But if what Ignis had observed of her work ethic thus far was a demonstration of her usual habit, she wasn't completely useless. In fact, she seemed eager to help in any way she was able, which appeared to be more than he'd originally thought. Despite her supposed dimness, she'd moved through the diner and setting up camp with a self-assuredness and finesse that contradicted his original assessment. Her vocabulary and progression of logic in general conversation seemed to rival his own. Even her skill with magic, unusual side effects aside, indicated an innate talent beyond any that Ignis had ever seen. The woman had solved an age-old elemental complication in a matter of seconds as though it were nothing, for gods' sakes!

He'd been waiting for the moment they were alone together to apologize for his behavior earlier, but now that it had arrived, he found himself apprehensive, fearing she would berate him for his display of stupidity. Astrals, he despised being wrong, even more so with an audience, and having to apologize for a misstep was even more unpleasant, as the recipient typically enjoyed ribbing him for his mistake before granting their pardon.

He let out a quiet sigh, basking in their peaceful moment for one more second before he broke the silence.

 _Suck it up,_ as Gladio would say.

Ignis gently cleared his throat to get her attention, and she looked up at him, her eyes glowing sapphire in the almost too-bright Leiden sun. Taking a steadying breath, he fought his instinct to look away from her.

"Laura, I'd like to offer my most sincere apologies for being curt with you this morning, and as it turned out, completely incorrect."

Her brow furrowed down along with her lips as she shook her head. "There's nothing to forgive. Everyone was on edge pushing that car. If we're apologizing, I'm sorry for snapping at you. I can have a bit of a temper when people try to coddle me."

"Yes, I'd noticed," he said mildly, but then winced inwardly. Here she was being gracious, and he was finding further ways to insult her. Just because he felt wild out here didn't mean he could afford to lose his manners and loosen his tongue. He had court to return to, after all. With a delicate sniff, he straightened, looking out to the horizon. "Well, if you won't accept my apologies, at least allow me to express my gratitude for not calling me out in front of the others, even if they did miss a prime opportunity to take great relish in my being wrong."

She put her hand in his path to stop him and pointed off to his left. "Green peas, yeah?"

Ignis followed her gesture and spotted a small green patch standing out starkly against a sea of brown, cracked dirt, and he nodded as he turned to head in that direction.

"I get it," she continued. "It's difficult, sometimes, being the one who's always right. Means you're never allowed to be wrong. Even your friends—they lie in wait for you to slip up so they can tease you about it."

He exhaled a chuckle through his nose. "That's for sure and certain."

Did that mean she held the same role among her own friends? She'd certainly been correct this morning and was being generous with her forgiveness now. Perhaps she knew what it felt like to never be allowed to make a mistake, to always, _always_ have to be perfect at all times. And though he strove for it in every moment, desired it more than anything in his life, even he was prone to making errors now and then. But with that sense of perfectionism came a distinct disadvantage: he'd observed that everyone around him would become careless as a result of his presence, as there was no need to put forth much effort when Ignis was always there to do it, and do it well.

Did she know what it was like to be the only responsible one? The idea gave him a little hope for this trip, as the prospect of being the only one holding them all in check when he'd been looking forward to a bit of rest depressed him somewhat, even if he would never stoop so low as to complain about it.

He watched her work as he bent to pick the peas from the plants nearest him, noticing how quickly and efficiently she moved—organizing her search for the pods from top to bottom, right to left—before moving on to the next plant. He found himself mimicking her actions when he noticed that the way she brushed her hands against the undersides of the lush green leaves revealed the pods faster than his own inexperienced fumbling. How could a plant such as this even survive out here in such an arid climate, anyway?

Her eyes slid to his as she took a step to begin searching the plant in front of him.

"Thank you for agreeing to teach me to forage. I really appreciate the opportunity to learn more about plants in this area—hopefully the animals as well."

"You're very welcome." He hesitated a moment as she drew closer to drop her peas into the burlap sack he was holding, wondering whether he should utilize this tactic to pull information from her or if it wouldn't be prudent to get her guard up so early in the conversation. He decided to throw caution to the wind and speak as though he'd already had her figured out. "I don't imagine you had much call to be outdoors in the Crown City and thought you might appreciate the guidance. I myself am only familiar with the local flora and fauna because of my paltry studies beforehand," he said with a disarming, somewhat self-deprecating smile.

Her eyes shot to his, and he realized he'd erred with her again as she frowned. "You would do well to take into account your level of experience in all things, not simply combat, before you go making judgments about that which you believe you understand. You may not realize it yet, but you have quite a narrow-minded view of the world, Ignis Scientia."

Of course, she'd recognized his attempt to irritate her into correcting his assumption. She was far, far more intelligent than he'd initially given her credit for, and _he_ was the slow one for not having adjusted his strategy to compensate. Her rebuke stirred in him a conflicting desire to defend against the insult and apologize for his behavior. He was about to open his mouth to deliver the latter of his two options, but she held a hand up to stop him.

"If it's additional clues you're looking for, I'm no stranger to living off the wild. I may look and sound like one of you, but I'm not from Insomnia—from anywhere in Lucis, actually. And I think you've already gathered I'm not truly a Glaive."

He stood frozen for several moments as she dropped in the rest of her peas and continued walking in their original direction. He'd suspected several possible scenarios for her origins, but this hadn't been one of them. Thinking on the matter, the idea that she wasn't from Lucis at all explained so much, really, including why she was unfamiliar with the most basic facts of their society—not to mention that rather odd "rhinoceros" gaffe earlier. Though she spoke in perfect Royal Lucian and commoner Lucian accents, Lucian may not have even been her first language.

How could he not have realized? The spark in her eyes combined with the adeptness with which she had handled everything he'd seen her do indicated she wasn't as dim as he'd first assumed. How could he have read her so incorrectly? This was supposed to be what he _did_. He found himself wanting to apologize to her again, but he could hardly do so for his private, uncharitable thoughts.

Then he had another thought.

Jogging to catch up to her, he exclaimed, "Surely you're not from Niflheim!"

She stopped to glare at him, clearly offended by his insinuation. "Narrow-minded," he thought he heard her mutter, before she raised her voice to him. "Of course I'm not!"

The thought had occurred to him that every word out of her mouth so far had been a lie, but there were two compelling reasons why he chose to believe her. The first and foremost reason was that his king had vouched for her, and Ignis trusted his liege with his and Noct's lives both. The second reason was far more mystical but no less trustworthy—he could feel it in his bones that she was telling the truth. His entire life, Ignis had relied heavily on his intuition, a sense he felt was somehow connected to the magic in his blood that told him whether a person was safe to be trusted. She felt . . . _right_ to him, but even his instinct wouldn't allow him to ignore the curiosity nearly burning him alive whenever he stumbled upon something that he couldn't answer.

He'd discovered a newfound sense of respect for her, but there was so much about her that still didn't add up. He decided to lay aside rhetorical games and instead speak straight with her as she had with him.

"My apologies, but then where _are_ you from? The King neglected to give us the story of your background before we left."

"He neglected to tell me of a lot of things in that study of his, but he did manage to inform me you'd be a pain, you know. He wasn't wrong," she shot back, but her voice softened as she said, "Of course, I mean that in the kindest sense. I think he'd be proud of you right now, living up to his expectations."

Seemingly oblivious to his shock at her response, she broke eye contact and gazed into the distance, her expression growing faraway as though she were debating something inside that infuriatingly inscrutable mind of hers. He thought she'd chosen not to respond to his original question when she began walking again, but he followed after her, waiting patiently and silently for an answer. It was only once he'd begun fantasizing about grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking the answer from her that she scoffed quietly.

"From. What does that even mean anyway? I'm from . . . so many places, all so very far away. I'm sure you've never heard of any of them."

"Still, I should like to know," he replied gently in defiance of his impatience.

With a deep sigh as though she were about to begin some epic tale, she said, "I was born in a city . . . well, it would be more of a village to you and your Crown City, called Lliaméra, deep in the heart of the Palomian Forest of Miriásia. Everyone's gone now, though—wiped from existence. I am all that's left."

He was disappointed to admit to himself, or her, that she was right—he had never read any of those names in any Lucian text, but as he registered her full statement, disappointment turned to dismay. "I'm sorry. How did . . .?"

She laughed bitterly, and the expression that twisted her face looked ugly on her features. "The same way every civilization gets wiped out—war and disease. We may have been enlightened enough to live in harmony with the forest around us, but we were too stupid to keep from fighting ourselves into extinction. And here I am again, on the brink of another war."

"Quite the opposite of 'on the brink of a war,' I'd say. If all goes according to plan, the treaty will be signed in a matter of days, and peace will return to Eos once more."

" _If_ all goes according to plan," she pointed out, and he frowned at the statement. So, even an outsider had noticed everything that had plucked a foul chord in his instincts as well? That certainly boded ill. Before he could formulate a reply, she asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

Ignis glanced at her warily from the side of his eye. He supposed he deserved no less after having lured her out here under false pretenses, but now that he'd been caught, it didn't mean he would be naïve enough to fall for the same scheme and give her unfettered access to his knowledge.

"That depends on the question."

She appeared to be surprised by his reaction to her request, but asked, "Tell me about Lady Lunafreya?"

"That wasn't a question at all," he said carefully.

He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt—perhaps she hadn't realized that the vague wording of her question was a tactic he himself used when attempting to pull the most important information from someone, as they were likely to answer with facts most relevant to them first. There was certainly too much of Noct's heart potentially hidden in her query that he would not share with her.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I'll be clearer. The reports keep reassuring everyone that her marriage won't interfere with her duties as Oracle as though the people are terrified that it will. What exactly are her duties, and why are people so frightened? Surely, with modern medicine, people aren't that desperate for healing?"

He relaxed at the benign nature of the information she was seeking, but curiosity nagged at him once again. "Were your people not susceptible to the very same plague? Evidence suggests it's been present in the world for over two thousand years, though we're only recently seeing its slow rise in the last thirty years or so. As such, we know very little about it. Legend tells us it was released on the world during the War of the Astrals and set dormant by the Founder King of Lucis and the First Oracle. We refer to it as Starscourge, and it causes the afflicted to disappear into thin air."

"My gods—a virus as a result of a war," she breathed, her face growing pale. "History repeating itself—that's exactly what happened to my people."

Something about her pallor struck another chord of familiarity with him, more powerful than any he'd had thus far. Without hesitation, he stepped directly in her path and raised his hands to catch her should she fall, though had she asked, he wouldn't have been able to explain why he expected her to. As he looked down and met her puzzled eyes, he was suddenly overcome with the instinct to protect this stranger, to take care of her, though he couldn't fathom a reason for it. He felt that she was delicate, somehow weak, despite all evidence to the contrary. The sudden onset of these irrational thoughts unnerved him. Where had they come from out of nowhere? He dropped his hands, but to his alarm, she tentatively reached out to brush gentle fingers against his chest, just over his heart.

The sensation of her touch was far more intimate than he was expecting, so he took a step beyond her reach and looked away.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I thought for a moment you weren't . . .."

"What?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

He turned his head to meet her eyes, frowning in confusion. Had he missed something? "You didn't."

She took a small step forward, seemingly searching for something deep in his eyes, but she didn't make any additional move to touch him. "Who are you really, Ignis Scientia? You're no chef."

"Noticed that, have you?" he said wryly in an attempt to break this odd tension building between them. "You're right, I'm not. But I think you'll find I share similar sentiments regarding you."

"So many times today, an odd expression will cross your face when you look at me. What's going through your head when you look at me like that?"

"It's irritating me I can't place where I know you from."

Without any sort of signal on either's behalf, they began walking side-by-side once again, more slowly this time. He didn't make even a half-hearted attempt to search for more peas and tomatoes, and he noticed that her eyes remained locked firmly ahead of her.

"I've only been in Insomnia a few days, and I was telling the truth when I said I've seen you around the library. The Citadel itself as well."

"No. This is more than a chance glimpse."

He watched her expression carefully for any sign of deceit, but he could only detect a slight stirring of melancholia as she shook her head. "I'm sorry. Whoever you're looking for, she isn't me. Perhaps I simply remind you of someone."

"I'll admit to the possibility, but I rather doubt it. I don't forget a face easily."

Her tone grew light as she offered, "I've been told that I look like the Prince. Personally, I don't see it."

"No," he said with a laugh, "your resting expression isn't nearly as dour."

"A predominant trait in royalty, I assure you," she said with her own chuckle, but she grew serious with the sort of heavy suddenness she'd displayed back at the haven. "It's understandable, given the weight they often bear."

"Indeed."

They let the silence fall between them as they walked—comfortable at first, but the longer his last statements echoed in his own ears, the more uneasy Ignis grew. He hoped she hadn't thought his remark disloyal to his liege, as he hadn't intended to express any sentiments of the kind. People often mistook what he considered his sarcastic sense of humor for savagery when he never meant it in that manner. As such, he'd learned long ago to keep his inner commentary quiet, but he'd found himself slipping more often in recent weeks in more casual company. He'd have to be more careful of that in the future.

There was no way to recant his previous statement, however, without appearing defensive, so he let the matter go.

"You never answered my question, you know," Laura said suddenly.

"My apologies. What was the question?"

"Lady Lunafreya. Princess Lunafreya—whatever. Her duties? Is she the only one who can heal the Starscourge, then?"

Finding himself once more in familiar territory as the teacher, he eased back into his history lesson. "Historically, the Oracle has been gifted with the ability to alleviate the blight's effect on the population and planet by healing the disease and clearing the atmosphere, though I've come across conflicting reports on whether _all_ Oracles are capable of healing."

"But Lunafreya definitely is?"

"Yes. In addition to acting as the bridge of communication between mortal and divine, Lady Lunafreya travels from settlement to settlement, healing the Starscourge until the true King of Light ascends to rid the world of it completely."

"And the King of Light is Noctis."

"Correct. The world awaits the day Noct is to ascend as King and rid the world of its influence."

"And how does he intend to do that?"

"We're . . . not certain," he admitted reluctantly. "No one is."

They'd been told this story for over half their lives—Noct would be the one to rid the world of "the darkness"—though none of them knew exactly what that would entail. Despite Ignis's most persistent questioning, no one from the King himself to the lowest Draconian priest seemed to have any idea what would be required of them to do. Their nebulous destiny was one of the reasons Ignis had toiled so hard all his life—his promise had come to include taking care of Noct as he met the great weight of that destiny. Ambiguous though their future was, it had become Ignis's sole purpose in life to see him through it.

"I see," she said, growing concerned. "And what would the consequences be should he fail?"

 _That_ part of the prophecy seemed to be relatively clear, at least. "Eternal darkness and the eventual end of all mankind."

"Of course," she said with a nod, as though he hadn't just proposed the extinction of the entire world. "That seems to be the only consequence there ever is with these sorts of things."

Ignis froze when she suddenly stopped and flung out a hand in his path, though he noted she'd been careful not to touch him.

"What is it?" he whispered as she tilted her head—as though she were listening carefully to the barest of auditory stimulus on the air.

"Shh. Do you hear that?"

He closed his eyes and cocked his head, straining to listen. Other than the wind blowing through the sparse greenery, he couldn't hear anything that would have caught her interest.

Shaking his head, he said, "No. What is it?"

As she looked out to the rock formations surrounding the two of them, her eyes sparkling with excitement and mischief, a slow, almost manic smile spread over her features—full of wonder and electricity that Ignis couldn't possibly fathom a reason for. Nevertheless, he felt his blood quicken in his veins and his own lips quirk in amusement at her sudden, unexplained joy.

"Ignis," she whispered, the hushed breathiness of it dripping with elation. "Come with me. Keep quiet." She turned to their right and jogged forward a few steps, but when he didn't immediately comply, she looked back, beckoning for him to follow.

"Come on! Allons-y!" she coaxed with an almost girlish giggle.

He understood the sentiment, if not the second, foreign-sounding phrase, and followed after her.

She trotted off on silent feet to a nearby rock formation, which stuck out from the ground like a mountain made miniature. Quick though he'd always considered himself on his feet, he found it somewhat difficult to keep up with her _and_ keep his eyes on his surroundings while flitting over bushes and rocks jutting out from the hard-packed sand.

What could she have possibly heard all the way out here that he couldn't?

As they reached the base of the massive boulder, she held a finger to her lips and crept around the corner. He followed behind until she halted suddenly, and he poked his head around hers to see what had gotten her attention.

The creature was rather large—easily six meters tall, had it been standing. Even lying with its legs curled beneath itself under the shade of the rock wall, its face rested well above their heads. As it whipped its horned, wedge-shaped head to look at them in alarm, Ignis summoned his polearm automatically to his hand. Judging by its physiology, it was likely herbivorous, but the dinner-plate-sized hooves and long, vestigial claws were still capable of doing them great damage, should it choose to do so. And though Ignis hadn't yet come across the creature's entry in his field guide, Takka had said that all the animals in the area were dangerous.

The animal seemed to read his thoughts and proved Takka's statement when it bared its teeth threateningly and loosed a long, resounding bray.

Hearing the crystalline sound of his summoning, Laura looked back at him, her expression shocked and . . . dare he say, hurt? She shook her head at him and stepped away from the corner.

"Laura, don't," he hissed, though he obeyed her silent instruction not to attack.

His rather eerie sense regarding her delicacy having passed, Ignis wasn't terribly concerned for her safety, as he knew she could summon a weapon and kill the creature before it could even stand. Still, given her refusal to hunt, he wasn't completely certain she would do so, even if her life were in danger.

"This one's different," she said softly, still taking slow, careful steps toward the beast. "Perhaps someone tried to keep it as a pet?"

He had no idea how she had reached this conclusion, but it seemed unlikely, given that the animal had stretched its prodigiously long neck taut to meet her as she neared, its lips quivering to take a sizable chunk out of her.

Ignis was about to jump out to defend her when, without looking away from the creature, she said in a soothing voice, "Ignis? Don't you dare."

He reluctantly obeyed, remaining rooted to the spot as she drew closer. It went against every instinct he had, allowing the head of that enormous wild animal to reach the vulnerable-looking girl, but then he had to remind himself that appearances could be deceiving. She held her arms out as the animal deposited its muzzle, which was nearly as large as her torso, into her embrace.

"Hello, dear," she cooed, stroking its cheeks, and Ignis had to splutter a quiet laugh at the absurdity of this mad situation he'd somehow found himself in.

At the sound of his laughter, Laura looked up at him, gesturing with her head that he should approach. "Put that thing away and come here," she said gently.

Swallowing, Ignis dismissed his polearm and took a cautious step forward. Surely, he would be safe if the creature hadn't yet attacked her? It wasn't as though he knew anything about interacting with animals in the wild or reading their body language. His uncertainty from his inexperience was a new, uncomfortable sensation, but Laura did seem to be somewhat of an expert in this. He decided to trust that expertise in the face of his ignorance.

As he approached, she moved around to the beast's side, settling on the dry, brittle grass with her back against its belly and her legs stretched out in front of her. Seemingly dissatisfied with the cessation of her attentions, the animal curled its neck around and deposited its muzzle in her lap, and she ran her fingers lightly over its velvety tawny nose with a soft murmur. At her touch, it heaved a whooshing, breathy sigh that hitched her entire body forward and back with the movement.

He stood over her when he reached them, uncertain of what to do. Noticing his hesitation, she patted the ground next to her and said, "Come sit down with me . . . if you want."

The idea intrigued him, he had to admit, but he couldn't help but eye the sparse grass surrounded by dusty, cracked dirt. He'd been keeping an eye on his lists of things to do today as the hours crept past without the opportunity to get anything done. An overwhelming number of tasks awaited him when he returned to camp, and he didn't need to add any additional time to the laundry by having to scrub even more filth from his clothes.

Laura seemed to know exactly what he was thinking as she followed his gaze because she rolled her eyes. "I'll tell you now that this is the first and only creature I've been able to do this with since I got here, besides the pets in the city. This may be a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"I—"

"Just sit down, and I'll clean your clothes myself when we get back," she huffed. "You're absolutely mad if you thought for a moment I wasn't going to help with that, anyway."

He _had_ thought that, in fact, but still he replied politely, " _That_ won't be necessary."

Still, he decided to acquiesce for this unique circumstance and settled down next to her, stretching his legs out in front of him along the animal's long hind legs. He tried not to think about the fact that a single kick in his direction could kill him outright as he leaned back against the beast's ribs, feeling the animal rock his body with each breath.

The feeling was . . . actually rather pleasant as he sat in the shade and looked out at the sweeping view of otherworldly landscape surrounding them. After removing the glove from his left hand and setting it in his lap, he ever so carefully stretched his palm over the beast's leg, stroking the short, wiry fur.

"Do you know what it's called?" Laura asked. "I've been calling it a girafalope in my head, but I'm sure that's wrong."

He opened his eyes to glare at her. "Do you mean to say that you approached this thing not even knowing what it was?" he demanded.

Far from being offended by his outburst, she smirked and looked away. "Girafalope it is, then." She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, the curve of her full lips turning up into a soft smile. "Do you smell that, Ignis? It's life."

In what seemed to be a frequent habit of his since they'd left this morning, he took in a slow, deep breath through his nose, filling his lungs until they tingled from stretching so far. Beyond the scent of wild animal, he could smell the dirt; the sweet, dry grass; and the heat on the wind. The aroma was so very different from the stench of car exhaust fumes, sewage, and humid trash he had grown up with in the city, even in the wealthier districts close to the Citadel. This aroma was wild, savage, free, and he could tell that it was beginning to infect his blood and mind—untaming him. He'd been out of the influence of the royal court for mere hours and already he was sitting in the dirt with a woman he hardly knew with his back to a feral animal. Perhaps he was the one that had gone mad, but Astrals, was he ever enjoying it.

"Yes, it's lovely," he said, looking over at her with a crooked smile.

"It's a shame there aren't any clouds out today. I used to lie in the grass and pick out the shapes."

Ignis leaned his head back against the beast's belly as she was and gazed up at the sky in silent awe. It was just so . . . massive, so clear, so _blue_. He'd never seen anything like it.

"I've never done anything like that, except perhaps in my dreams." He hesitated a moment, debating whether he should add this more personal tidbit, but he finally decided that it would be a good test of her reception of his innermost thoughts at a relatively low risk should she prove cruel or dismissive. "I tended to avoid looking at the sky as a child, and it's a habit that's followed me into adulthood."

"I think I can understand that, with your Wall above your head, but we'll have to break you of that habit now that you're out here."

He closed his eyes as the warm wind whipped through his hair. "Yes, I believe you're right . . .."

* * *

"Ignis," came a gentle whisper.

The animal beneath his back flinched as he startled awake, and he bolted upright, his eyes darting over his surroundings in unfocused alarm.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," Laura said kindly from above him, and he looked up to see her smiling sweetly down at him.

"I . . . I fell asleep," he said dumbly.

"Yes, you did."

Bloody hell, how could he have fallen asleep out here in the middle of nowhere when anything could have attacked them? How irresponsible could he have been? He supposed Laura had been keeping a lookout, but even if he'd technically been safe, he was hardly making a good first impression.

"How long have I been asleep?" he demanded irritably as he stumbled to his feet, stretching his legs and brushing off his trousers vigorously. Despite his agitation, he felt . . . well, not well-rested, but still enormously refreshed.

"A couple of hours." Horror flooded him, and the color must have drained from his face, because her brow furrowed in concern. "It's all right, Ignis. I kept watch. It's just that you looked like you needed the rest."

"It's not that," he spat, although that was part of the issue. "We need to get back. I have more things to do than hours in the day, and I've just wasted two."

"I wouldn't worry too much," she said lightly, wrapping her arms briefly around the animal's muzzle one more time before heading in the direction of the haven with surprisingly long strides for her height. "I bet you'll find you've earned those hours back somewhere."

While her sentiment was touching, she didn't understand that his life was a never-ending rotation of lists, tasks, chores, requests—and that was to say nothing of his own endeavors to improve himself. No matter where she was from, her skills and education still clearly suggested that she'd been raised a noblewoman, and though he himself was titled, his circumstances were very different from those of most courtiers. There would always be more to do, and even if a miracle occurred and he somehow managed to accomplish his every task, someone was going to ask him for a favor. Someone was going to break something, muddy something, need something, and he would be the only one who could fix it.

Caring for the Chosen meant that the fate of the entire world was constantly in his hands, and it was especially vital for his king and country that this trip be completed without the slightest error.

And he wasn't off to the greatest of starts.

But as he felt the blood run through his body, making his fingertips twitch and the fog of sleep clear from his mind, he thought that perhaps she'd been right. Perhaps those two hours of peaceful rest on the ribs of an impossible beast under an endless blue sky next to her had been exactly what he needed to get him through the rest of the day and into the night.

The moment they returned to the haven, Ignis headed to his prep table and summoned his notebook, which contained all his recipes, notes, and lists. As often as he was teased that he could use his phone for these tasks, he found he rather enjoyed the satisfaction of crossing something out, and especially throwing a completed list away. Even as he copied down his recipes, he would find himself idly sketching certain ingredients, perhaps even drawing what he expected the final product to look like so that he could anticipate plating it in a manner that would maximize the potential for presentation. These things couldn't be accomplished on a mobile.

His daily to-do list was tucked into the front cover, which he pulled out and began to scan to determine how much he could get done before he needed to begin preparing supper for the group.

"Should we be concerned Gladio isn't back?" Laura asked quietly so as not to wake Noct, who was fast asleep in his camp chair.

Ignis glanced at the fire ring before casting his eyes around the site, his attention catching on the large stack of sticks and wood pieces next to the tent, which had successfully been erected since they'd left.

"He's likely all right. Gladio has been eager to enjoy the wild. I imagine he went for a hike."

"Then I think I'll help Prompto set up his shot for tonight—unless you need my help with anything?"

"No, that's quite all right. Go and assist Prompto," he replied, nodding to where Prompto sat fiddling with his camera in his camp chair next to his set-up tripod.

"All right. Don't worry about making an entrée for me tonight, and you can skip making the bread. I already have some I can give you for the group."

She had already headed over to the other side of the haven to speak to Prompto by the time he looked up from his list, not giving him a chance to respond. Only four entrées tonight? And how had she known he was going to need bread this evening? He pulled his fountain pen out of his jacket pocket to cross one item off—a relief, really. Making bread wasn't particularly labor intensive, but it was terribly time consuming, and he didn't have anything near as extravagant as a levain to make sourdough. He wondered whether she had made it this morning before leaving in anticipation of their needing it. It seemed impossible, given how early they'd left.

When he found "Make Bread" on his list, however, he saw that it had already been crossed out. Had she found his notebook in the armiger? She'd already known the book wasn't private, he supposed, as he'd had it out to refer to it several times already that day in front of her, including when he'd come up with his new recipe at the diner. His brow furrowed as he scanned the list to discover that she had crossed other items off besides the bread.

He set his notebook down and summoned Noct's jacket. Sure enough, the buttons had been sewn back on with clean, precise stitches. He dismissed the jacket and summoned Noct's sword, which he'd meant to sharpen and clean either this afternoon or this evening. Not only had it been polished, but it bit easily into his fingernail when he gently brushed it against the edge. He checked each of the blades on his list: his daggers, his polearm, even his straight-edge razor, for gods' sakes, had been cleaned, polished, and sharpened. Had she done all this as he slept? How on Eos had he managed to sleep through that? How had she found the time to do it all in only two hours?

Ignis's gaze snapped to where Laura sat next to Prompto, and as though she could feel his eyes on her, she looked up at him.

Her attention dropped to his razor in his hands before sliding back up to his face. Ever so slowly, her lips pulled wide, the skin around her eyes crinkled, and her eyes glittered with delight.

That. There. That was the smile he had been looking for.

Odd. He hadn't done a thing to deserve it.

* * *

Ignis inspected his completed spread one last time, questioning his every decision made this evening. Perhaps it hadn't been the wisest choice to serve a dish so similar to what they'd had for lunch, but he was eager to evaluate just how much he could improve on Takka's recipe while the memory of the original was still fresh in his mind. In honor of Prompto's newfound obsession with the joint, or perhaps with the "goddess" two shops down, Ignis had decided to call his recreation _Grease Monkey's Schnitzel Sandwiches_.

Takka had clearly used fresh, high-quality meat in the original recipe, which Ignis believed he had matched with the well-marbled garula steak tenderloins he'd managed to trade from a Hunter named Dave in exchange for a generous portion of their seemingly endless supply of rice and what was left of their meagre amount of gil. Laura's bread had elevated the dish considerably—her caramelized crust, airy crumb structure, and complex varieties of wheat he'd never before tasted in his life added a depth of flavor that Takka's processed bread couldn't touch.

But if the thought wasn't conceited of him, Ignis believed he'd managed to bring his own flair to the recipe as well in order to more effectively coax better flavors and textures from the simple ingredients.

He had substituted panko crumbs instead of what he had believed to be breadcrumbs made from Takka's stale, processed bread—allowing for a thicker, lighter, and less greasy crust that wouldn't lose its crunch as easily. He also butchered the tenderloins to enable him to fry the cutlets properly, allowing for a blush of medium-rare that gave the meat more flavor. To finish the dish, he had simply garnished with fresh, biting parsley, choosing to dispense with the heavy tomato sauce that Ignis believed had overpowered the sweet umami of the garula tenderloins.

He leaned in to examine one of the five plates more closely before reaching to grab a towel and wipe off a spare piece of parsley that had landed on the plate's edge instead of the sandwich. Adept as he was at remembering instructions, he recalled with perfect clarity that Laura had requested that he not prepare dinner for her this evening, but a small, insignificant voice in the back of his head had suggested that he might be able to entice her to broaden her culinary horizons somewhat with a more gourmet option than what she'd been presented with this afternoon.

Picky eaters were his specialty, after all.

Satisfied with his presentation, he turned to where the other four sat around the campfire and announced, "Dinner is served."

Prompto leapt immediately from his seat and skipped to his side. "All right! Thanks, Iggy!"

"Four guys, a camp fire, and fresh fried meat. Can't beat that," Gladio said, grinning at him.

"And a woman," Ignis muttered softly, casting him a significant glare and adding an edge of impatience to his tone. He'd thought this had been settled earlier this evening when he'd informed Gladio that Laura's ignorance was due to a difference in culture, not a lack of intelligence, and his concerns about the Kingsglaive near the Royal Family during this turbulent time didn't apply in this case, either.

To his credit, Gladio's face fell somewhat. "Oh yeah . . . sorry."

As they lined up at his table to choose their plates and make their personalized adjustments, Ignis watched each of them carefully to take note of their preferences. He did his best to conceal his disgust when Prompto immediately applied a copious amount of ketchup, so close to what Takka had served them this afternoon. Even Gladio and Noct dumped a healthy portion of steak sauce on his perfectly golden-brown crust. Were they not willing to try it as Ignis had originally intended? His plainer recipe had been designed to better showcase the meat's tender, juicy flavor, of which he knew they were all fond. Still—if that was how they preferred their meals, he would hold his tongue. All that mattered was that it would fill their stomachs and please them, really.

Besides, they likely didn't realize that it was no simple matter to fry foods on a camp stove.

"I can't believe you did all this," Laura said in a low voice, and Ignis turned from his inspection of Noct's plate to look down at her.

To add to his disappointment this evening, he saw that she'd only placed two dry pieces of toast on a fresh plate. So much for his small hope, but surely, it couldn't be coincidence that she was eating only the food she had contributed this evening? Did his cooking appear that unappetizing? He'd certainly put a great deal of effort into impressing all of them, including her, with his skills, but he seemed to have fallen short of her estimation.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked earnestly, hoping she would provide him with some feedback for why she had refrained this evening. She had to have been starving, as hard as she'd been working alongside them all, and he hadn't seen her eat anything of substance all day.

She set her plate down on the edge of the prep table. "I'm fine," she replied quietly so the others couldn't hear. He frowned after her as she headed to the cooler where they kept the drinking water—bottled for convenience but filled from the tap in Hammerhead after they'd used up their supply pushing the Regalia this morning.

Distracted, he groped for his plate and took it to sit in his camp chair by the fire. Was it his imagination, or did she seem wearier than she had appeared earlier this afternoon? He remembered she'd been pale and shaking yesterday in the throne room. Perhaps she was recovering from an illness—and today's exertions would hardly have been a help. Astrals, he should have remembered and made soup this evening, instead. Tomorrow, perhaps, he could try out a recipe for tender roast stew with their remaining supply of garula meat.

"Glad you made these, Specs," Noct said happily from his spot across from the fire. "Think I could probably eat this every d—"

A gentle breeze blew through the haven, collecting the smoke from the fire into a whirlwind that billowed directly into Noct's face. He choked on his final word and leaned forward to cover his mouth and cough violently.

"You okay there, Noct?" Prompto asked.

"M-man!" he said shakily when the air had gone still. "It's like it likes me or somethin' tonight. How come it's not chasing after you guys?"

Ignis was about to explain that he'd informed Noct of the wind patterns this afternoon and had organized the campsite so that both his stove and the campfire would blow directly off the haven and not into the chairs or tent, but Gladio spoke first.

"Sit on this side. It's not blowin' this way."

"Yeah. Good idea."

"Not bad, Ig," Gladio remarked with a grunt as put his sandwich down on his plate and reached for the beer down by his feet.

"You kidding me? I never ate like this at home. This is awesome, Iggy!" Prompto exclaimed.

Ignis ducked his head, staring down at his plate. Pleased as he was to hear their gratitude, however, he couldn't help but smile a little to himself. "Thank you all."

"You posh royals are spoiled if you think this is what normal people eat while camping," Laura said to Gladio and Noct. She flashed a glowing smile at Ignis as she strode past them with her plate and bottle. "You'd better be grateful Ignis apparently has superhuman skills in the kitchen."

Then why had she refused to even try his meal? He certainly didn't want to sound like an impudent brat and ask her directly—particularly if the reason was what he suspected.

As she twisted to get by him, taking extra care not to brush his knees with her thighs as she passed between him and the fire, it occurred to him that she had no place to sit. He stood, gesturing to his chair.

"Please, take my seat. I'm afraid we weren't given enough notice to procure camping equipment for you, and we weren't certain whether you would bring your own. We'll make it our first priority once our finances are in order."

Laura shook her head, motioning for him to sit back down as she folded her legs beneath her on the glowing haven rock next to him.

"This is fine," she nearly whispered before looking down to pick unenthusiastically at her toast.

Already, he was beginning to despise that word.

"We uh . . . need to get another tent, too, and an extra sleeping bag," Prompto said, wincing. "I'm not sure how we're all gonna fit in the tent tonight."

"Really, I know I don't look like it, but I'm used to sleeping anywhere. There's no need to purchase a completely new setup just because I came along, especially with finances as they are. I brought a blanket; the sky is clear, and the fire is warm. That's all I need for now."

"You're gonna need shelter if we camp out when it rains. We won't get ya nothing fancy, but it'll get the job done," Gladio said with a frown. "Make it the first thing we do when we get the bounties for our hunts, Iggy."

"I intend to do just that," he replied, heartened to see that Gladio was finally showing his friendlier side to Laura despite his dislike and somewhat justified opinion of her.

If they were to pass the entire three weeks before the wedding in such close and possibly dangerous quarters, they would all need to get along, at the very least, and hopefully become a cohesive unit in that time. Ignis believed he had established a tentative rapport after this afternoon, despite his clumsiness, and Prompto had made significant strides in extending a hand of friendship. It was past time for the others to do the same.

"Man, it's nice having no roof—open sky," Gladio sighed, stretching his legs out toward the fire. "I could live out here."

"I bet you must've felt cramped in the city," Prompto said.

"Is that a crack about my size?"

"Uhh . . . no! I totally didn't mean it like that! It's just uh . . . you know, how everything's crowded."

"The groans and yelps in the distance are kinda creepy though. Think they're daemons?" Noct asked.

"Mostly nocturnal animals, but I think a couple of them are daemons, yes," Laura answered.

"I've been tryin' to ignore the shrieks, but thanks for the reminder! Sleeping tonight's gonna be soooo much fun!" Prompto said sarcastically.

"Don't think I'm gonna have much of a problem, after today," Noct said.

Gladio barked out a single, sharp laugh. "You mean after _every_ day."

For his part, Ignis focused on the dancing flames in front of him, idly picking at his meal and only half paying attention to the conversation as he organized the evening ahead of him. The night air had grown surprisingly chilly as it had grown darker, and even after the day spent sweating in his jacket to keep the blazing sun from burning him through his dress shirt, he found he was glad he'd kept it on through the heat of the day and as the sun sank below the horizon.

Though somewhat darker-skinned because of the Lucian half of his heritage, he was still pale in comparison to Gladio, a full-blooded Lucian noble on both sides of his family for generations who seemed to tan without burning at all. But what Ignis now understood to be his father's Tenebraean blood combined with a lifetime spent indoors beneath the Wall's protection meant that Ignis tended to burn somewhat before darkening into a tan—an unpleasant experience he'd rather avoid.

As Caelums had mixed with members of Tenebraean nobility for generations, it appeared as though Noct had suffered for the royal porcelain skin that many a Lucian noble strived to obtain. He'd have to ensure that Noct remembered to put on sunscreen before they went out tomorrow morning—Prompto as well, as whatever his heritage, he seemed to have suffered the worst from today's exertions in the sun.

Ignis cast a quick glance at Laura, noting that she was as fair-skinned as a Tenebraean royal, and yet it didn't appear as though the sun had even touched her today. Clearly, she'd taken even greater precautions than he before she'd left the city. He wondered if this Miriásia was some isolated region on the Terraverden continent somewhere, at war with the Empire before it fell to the scourge.

Once they had all finished eating, Ignis turned to the dirty dishes piled up on the prep table with a sigh. This was how it was going to be every evening, was it? He supposed being given the role of dishwasher wasn't entirely inappropriate, as they all knew of Ignis's fastidiousness when it came to cleanliness—and of his frequent habit of deep-cleaning Noct's apartment when it got out of hand.

Still, it would have been kind of one of them to offer their help.

As he poured the rest of the heated water from the stove into his washing bucket, he glanced around the site, noting that Noct had crawled into the tent to play on his phone—probably moments away from drifting off to sleep, Prompto had wandered to the edge of the haven to finalize his aperture and ISO settings, and Gladio had found a clear space behind the tent to perform his routine bodyweight exercises.

"Do you need any help?" came a soft query from behind him. He turned to find Laura standing close by, already reaching for the dishtowel he'd laid on the spare prep table.

As much as he would appreciate her company while he worked, he couldn't possibly ask her to take over more of his tasks. "As I said earlier, you've done enough already. I'm in your debt as it is for taking over my responsibilities this afternoon."

He may not have wished to owe her anything more than he already did, but he did secretly hope she would stay and talk with him, instead. There was still so much more he wanted to know, but he feared he'd pushed the bounds of politeness too far already with his direct questioning earlier. Perhaps she would volunteer more the more accustomed they became to each other and proved trustworthy.

Her expression pulled tight, and she shook her head. "No, you're not. I've seen you staring at that list at least thirty times today—every time we took a break pushing the car, at the diner, when we got here. I didn't want my little experience to end up costing you." A faint smile pulled at her lips. "Consider it a thank you for joining me in a life adventure. They're so much better with two. Now, scoot over."

"Really, it's not nec—" he began, but he was forced to take a step as she practically pushed him aside with her hip.

"Nonsense. We're all in this together, and I need to do my part." She pointed a stern finger at him as though he were a naughty child. "You're going to keep that list accessible to me; I'm going to help with everything I can, and you're not even going to thank me for it, understand?"

Ignis turned his head away and closed his eyes for a moment. Kindness without cost. Could it really be that simple?

He merely hadn't wanted the others to expect solicitude from him and take him for granted—even if he was technically a servant of the retinue by extension of being Noct's servant, and even if he'd already resigned himself to the role of kitchen master for the duration of this trip. If he were honest with himself, this went against everything he was—asking a guest and a lady to compensate for him without repayment—even if his title was likely equal to or higher than hers. Not only was it a blow to his pride, to ask for her assistance in his duties was simply not how he was raised by his tutors.

But they were no longer in a royal court; they were out here in the wild, where the others had already mentioned to him several times to relax. It wasn't as though he were ungrateful for his position in life; he was only too happy to serve and see the moments when others appreciated his efforts. But he had to admit that he was growing rather weary of always walking alone through life, of being worn down all the time, of having to pretend to always be perfectly put together in every moment when he was often hanging by only a thread and a cup of coffee.

The alluring solution Laura was presenting him with offered the possibility of finding relief while still holding true to the decorum necessary for serving the Prince, but in Insomnia, these offers usually came at a price. Though he'd slipped with her more than once today, she'd yet to take her pound of flesh from him in repayment, and he was beginning to wonder if she ever would. She had proven herself trustworthy thus far—that he was permitted to be wrong in front of her. Could he also be weak, if even for only a moment? The afternoon he had spent with her seemed to suggest so.

Well, there was really only one answer to give her, in the end. It wasn't as though he could beat her away from the kitchen area. He turned back to her and nodded once.

"Then I shall say it just this once: thank you, truly."

Her eyes seemed to light up as a slow grin spread over her face. "You are most welcome." Without another word on the matter, she took the wet plate he was gripping too tightly in his hands and began rubbing it dry.

Apparently, it really was that simple.

They'd almost finished with the dishes; all that was left was the pan Laura had just finished draining of oil when she looked up at him with that wide-eyed euphoric expression he had already come to identify as wonder.

"Ignis," she whispered in a luminous voice. He stopped scrubbing as she reached up to dim the lamp on the pole next to them. "The sun's gone down. When was the last time you looked at the sky?"

Silently, he turned his attention out over the desert and raised his eyes, dropping the pan in the bucket as awe overcame him. Long had he been fascinated with the idea of the stars, though he'd given up on the prospect of ever seeing any when he was a child. Ignis had done his best to engage Noct in the hobby when they were younger—reading from his astronomy book when he had trouble sleeping after his incident with the marilith. Together, they would lie awake on the window bench in Noct's room, gazing at the pictures, making up stories about the constellations, and imagining they could see them through the haze of the Wall and light pollution from the city.

But for all their dreaming, Ignis had never imagined a sight such as this.

Never in his life had the sky seemed so . . . enormous—so completely all-encompassing that he felt small in comparison. It wasn't possible that the night sky could be so impossibly black that it was almost a void that would swallow him whole. But no, the longer he looked, the more he realized that the twinkling points of light transformed the inky blackness into a velvety blue he wished he could reach up and brush his fingers against. He hadn't believed Laura when she'd said "ten billion stars" to Prompto earlier this afternoon, but what other number could describe the sea of sparkles he was currently humbled by?

"They're even slightly different colors," he whispered in wonder.

"And each is a planet or a ball of gas, burning millions or billions of miles away, as big or bigger than your own sun, possibly sustaining life on planets of their own."

The idea was inconceivable, but even trying to imagine the concept made him feel tiny and insignificant in this miraculous infinite universe. "I've never seen anything so dazzling in all my life."

"And to think, this is only your first night out of the city," she said with a soft smile in her tone. "Imagine what else we'll see on this journey of ours."

Something inside him seemed to break as he stared up at that expanse of wild beauty—his heart began to throb in his throat and his insides suddenly felt too large for his skin to hold him together. He was freefalling into something he neither understood nor felt entirely comfortable with, but the rush of sensation flooding him was exhilarating. Surely, he wasn't alone in feeling like this when taking in such a magnificent sight?

He reluctantly turned away from the star-filled vision to meet Laura's gaze. She was watching him silently, her expression overflowing with the same joy and wonder he felt expanding his chest.

What else would she draw his attention to as they traveled, he wondered? He silently thanked the King for sending her with them, if only for this opportunity to learn from this strange creature who saw the world so differently than he.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"Thank _you_. Watching you experience that for the first time . . . was a gift."

He wasn't certain how one should respond to such a compliment, if that was even what it was, so he turned back to the pan. But he allowed his attention to wander over the wondrous vision glittering above him as he worked.

Finishing the dishes and sitting down in his camp chair with a fresh cup of Ebony after such an experience felt almost like falling to Eos—becoming a mortal once more after receiving a taste of the divine—particularly when the others began noticing and speaking to him again.

He had just balanced his notebook on his lap to begin tallying up their needs and costs when Gladio came up from behind him and gave him a rough slap to the shoulder, nearly knocking his glasses off.

"Awesome grub, Iggy."

"You're very welcome," Ignis replied, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose. "Are you turning in for the night, then?"

"Yeah, pretty wiped. Used to the work, but I think the sun sucks it outta me, ya know?"

"Ugh, me too," Noct agreed, poking his head out of the unzipped door of the tent.

"Ha! You've never worked a full day in your life!"

"That's not true! Used to work as a part-time cook at Standing Sushi—on top of school and training and everything."

"Hardly what I would call 'cooking,'" Ignis replied, his mind half on the blank sheet before him and half noting that Laura had just removed her Glaive jacket and was laying it across Gladio's camp chair.

"How come you like cookin' so much?"

Ignis looked up and hesitated, not wanting to outright deny the Prince's assumption but also wishing to communicate the truth. He chose to indirectly answer the question, though he knew no one listening—except perhaps Laura—would notice his evasion.

"I find the true joy of cooking on the faces of those for whom I cook."

"Huh."

A memory shimmered in front of his mind's eye, and he smiled softly. "I'll never forget the smile on your face the first time I cooked for you."

It had been months since he'd last seen Noct smile or laugh. Even after receiving the Oracle's healing, he had still been confined to a bed or a wheelchair for nearly eight months upon his return to the Citadel, and the entire staff had nearly been driven mad with King Regis's worry and Noct's nearly catatonic state—made so much worse by the second assassination attempt in Tenebrae. Ignis had yearned to do everything in his power to help, to restore Noct to the bright and lively child he'd once been. He hadn't been certain of the details that had led to the death of Queen Sylva and their escape from Terraverde, but Noct had clearly been traumatized. He'd barely spoken a word of his first experience beyond his home country—except for Lady Lunafreya's kindness and a certain pastry he'd had there.

Thrilled to see him speaking at all, Ignis had grilled him for every detail he could recall of the treat before consulting with the Royal Pâtissier. For weeks, he'd learned how to manipulate the sticky dough, how to properly incorporate the butter into the flour without allowing it to melt, how to laminate it so that each layer was perfectly even.

The half-hearted smile tugging at the Prince's lips had been well-worth the effort after months of blank staring, and he vowed that he would keep trying to get that recipe right if it was the last thing he ever did. Over a decade later, and he still hadn't managed it to Noct's satisfaction, but Ignis wasn't deterred in the slightest.

"I barely remember what I ate _yesterday_ ," Noct said incredulously, but his expression grew tender and distant as he added, "Well, whatever that first meal was . . . I'm sure it was pretty good."

Ignis ducked his head to push his glasses up on his nose again. "Much obliged."

"Hey, I didn't think . . . what's your plan if your glasses break?"

"I've got another pair," he said with a frown, "just in case."

Prompto looked over at them from his spot on the edge of the haven, his hand still on his camera's shutter button. "The man always has a plan."

"Even if he didn't, he'd still be all right," Noct said.

Gladio let out a soft groan as he crawled into the tent and rolled over onto his back. "Yeah, Iggy's eyes ain't that bad."

"Oh, really?" Prompto asked.

Ignis suppressed a sigh. "My vision is passable without corrective lenses," he admitted, preparing himself for either aggressive questioning or teasing remarks as he so often received when this topic came up.

"Then why not take 'em off sometimes?"

"Well . . .."

Noct let out a snort. "You don't get it, huh?"

"Ignis likes his world to be crystal clear," Gladio said.

"Indeed. I've never been one for ambiguity." Which was an ironic statement to make today, as for all that he'd enjoyed himself since leaving home this morning, ambiguity seemed to have defined his every moment since.

Laura's voice interrupted from the darkness somewhere near Prompto, and Ignis found he had to squint and allow his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light beyond the campfire to see her.

"I knew a man who preferred wearing glasses just because he thought they made him look clever, so I'd say you've already got a far better reason."

She was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the haven, releasing her long hair from its twist to let it cascade down her back. Outside the circle of light the campfire provided, the moonlight seemed to turn it into living blue flame as it bounced and fanned down to her elbows. Her eyes seemed to catch the moonlight and reflect it, shimmering an ethereal blue as she gazed up at the breathtaking sky stippled with stars. By the time his eyes had adjusted to see her, she was leaning forward to press her hands firmly against the stone beneath her, her bare arms illuminated by the faint glow of the runes. Again, something seemed to coalesce in Ignis's chest at the sight of this painfully familiar, capable, kind, warrior woman sitting quietly amidst the stunning scenery, closing her eyes, and murmuring softly under her breath.

Astrals forgive him his blasphemy, but he imagined that not even Shiva herself could have looked more beautiful.

Prompto must have thought so too, for he had shifted the composition of his shot to include her sitting gracefully beneath that infinite glittering sky.

"So, uh . . . are you praying or something?" Prompto asked after several more clicks of his camera. "I could leave you alone."

Laura turned to face him and smiled. "No. I'm sort of . . . meditating, but you aren't bothering me."

"What sort of meditation?" Ignis couldn't help but intrude. He had read about many types of meditation, as well as their benefits, but despite his childhood dream and his connection to his intuitive sense, he didn't consider himself the spiritual sort to gain any advantage from these techniques, even if he were to have the time for such self-indulgence.

Ignis possessed a somewhat lapsed sense of religion. Even though his uncle had often reminded him that he should keep the family's devout loyalty to Ifrit a complete secret, he needn't have bothered. He himself had never paid any mind to the the god many had labeled as a traitor to mankind. Ignis would always hold a special place in his heart for the gentle goddess Shiva due to his own personal journey, but many years had passed since his dream had faded into hazy memories and his prayers had dwindled to the occasional thought. Even her statuette on his bedside table had been relegated to a spot behind the lamp in favor of better reading light.

"It's not exactly meditation, per se. I'm attempting to align my resonant frequency to that of your land."

"Umm . . . what does that even mean?" Prompto asked.

Ignis knew of the concept of resonant frequency, of course; the demonstration of a person able to break a glass using only the power of their voice came to his mind immediately after she'd said it. He had never, however, heard of the term applied to a person before and wondered what it meant for her to need to adjust it.

"To mitigate the effect I have on you all. Don't think I haven't noticed all of you flinching when I'm near." She looked back and forth between the two of them before her eyes slid to the tent, where it seemed both Noct and Gladio had already checked out of the conversation in favor of sleep.

Flinching? Had the others gone as far as physically recoiling from her presence? But then, he'd done the same this afternoon on the plains, if for different reasons. He recalled at the time that she'd said the queerest thing—she'd apologized for hurting him. Had she meant literally? Still—he couldn't fathom a reason for it, as she hadn't hurt him in the slightest.

She _had_ caused Noct pain, however, when she'd attempted a tandem spell with him. Was _this_ what the others had been referring to in the car and at the diner? Was it a literal discomfort she'd been inflicting on them?

"Err, yeah," Prompto said, wincing and rubbing at the back of his neck. "We were kinda wondering about that, actually. Sorry."

"It's quite all right. My energy vibrates at a different frequency than yours. It's different from the energy in your bodies, the food, the ground, even the magic you use. You can sense that difference, and your mind interprets it as wrongness and pain. I'm attempting to correct that difference."

"Thank Six!" Prompto sighed. "I was starting to think . . . but why would we feel it though? Just because you're, uh, vibrating differently."

She tilted her head in thought, frowning. "I'm not sure. I think it has something to do with the Crystal. As its servants, you feel this difference more keenly, Noct most of all. It's why I hurt him when I was helping him with spells earlier."

"Ohhhh, so that's why the people in Hammerhead were all chill around you?"

"I believe so? They aren't connected to the Crystal as you are, correct?"

"That's correct," Ignis answered, still curious as to why he had a deeper connection with the Crystal than Gladio and Prompto and yet hadn't felt an inkling of what they'd experienced. Another thought regarding his perception of her being ill occurred to him, and he had to ask, "And what about you? How does this energy difference feel to you?"

He believed he'd already interpreted the scenario and put the clues together—how she had appeared to be pale and shaking that day in the throne room, his rush of instinct to catch her earlier, the fact that she'd eaten naught but toast and water today. Most damning, he recalled with perfect clarity the first moments those flames had subsided to reveal that Noct was blessedly safe, and she was saying, 'I didn't think it would hurt you, _too_.'

His suspicions were confirmed when her eyes grew tighter. "It burns," she breathed. "Every touch, every breath is fire."

"Then why do you stay here?" Prompto asked.

It was certainly a valid question. This wasn't her homeland. If staying here in Lucis so close to the Crystal's influence meant as much pain as she claimed, he couldn't imagine what would keep her here. Would her suffering lessen when they left the continent, or would their connection to the Crystal mean that she would always be close to its power in some fashion or another?

He thought of every time she had smiled today and wondered at her astounding ability to hide pain. What else was she hiding?

She hesitated a moment before replying, "Because I made a vow to the King."

So it was duty, then, that kept her, a position he understood well. He himself would walk through fire with pleasure if it meant fulfilling his. Still, he wondered how she, a denizen of a foreign land, had ended up beholden to the Lucian king.

"So what can we do to help?" Prompto asked eagerly. "Like, what're you doin' there?"

"Right now, I'm attempting to connect myself to ground below and sort of . . . aligning myself with it." She twisted her lips doubtfully as she skimmed her fingertips over the stone. "It's difficult to explain, but the havens seem to be a better place to do this than anywhere else because the magic is a concentrated source of the same sort of energy the Crystal uses. I think I'm making progress. Already, it seems easier to breathe." She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply to emphasize her point. "But, the more concentrated the source of energy, the faster I can align."

"Wouldn't it be more efficient if you used one of us as a template, then?" Ignis suggested. He wasn't certain if he had any idea of what he was talking about, but surely, if she was attempting to match her resonance to be more compatible with them, it would make far more sense to have one of them nearby. He did wonder if his lack of feeling threatened by her would affect her ability to use him as a source, but he saw no reason for why he should be different than the others. "We both have direct access to the Crystal's powers through Noct," he added.

"Yeah, we could do that!" Prompto agreed. "But will it . . . you know, hurt?"

She grimaced. "To be honest, I'm not sure. It won't be comfortable, but I can never tell when what I do is going to hurt you." Her eyes flicked briefly toward Ignis, her expression contrite, but she looked to Prompto again and continued as though her train of thought hadn't been interrupted. "I certainly won't try using my magic on any of you; I never would have offered to help Noctis if I'd known I could hurt him like that."

Prompto sauntered cockily to where she sat and plopped down on the ground beside her. "I'll give it a shot. Just tell me what I need to do."

Laura's lips lifted into a gentle smile. "Just sit there and be you. And promise that you'll tell me the moment it gets too uncomfortable to bear." She tentatively reached out to his bare arm, her hand hovering just over his wrist as she waited for his assent.

For the first time since Ignis had met him, Prompto's expression grew deadly serious. Taking a deep breath as though he were preparing himself for a harrowing trial, he closed his eyes and nodded. "Go ahead."

He immediately hissed in a breath and winced when her hand made contact with his arm.

"I'm sorry!" Laura exclaimed, flinching away, but Prompto's hand shot out to hold hers in place.

"No! It's okay!" he said with an awkward smile-grimace. "It's not as bad as it was earlier, but it's still kinda . . . I dunno, like . . . wrong."

Ignis wondered exactly what the sensation Prompto was referring to felt like. It seemed to manifest itself in the others as physical pain, and if their comments in the diner were anything to go by now that he understood they hadn't been speaking metaphorically, a desire to run or do her physical harm. But even after spending so much time near her today, he had yet to experience what the others seemed to feel so keenly. Admittedly, he had not yet touched her bare skin as Prompto was doing now, but they had all complained of the phenomenon without having touched her.

Deciding to let the mystery simmer for a while, Ignis took another sip of his coffee and turned his attention to the spreadsheet in his lap. At the very least, they would need to purchase another camp chair, a bedroll, and something that would offer Laura shelter as she slept. The chair and bedroll were simple; they could pick those up as soon as they cashed in on their first hunt tomorrow. The shelter, however, was another matter. The way he saw it, they had two options: to purchase a small tent to accommodate a single occupant or a larger tent for the five of them. Even if they sold their current tent when purchasing the larger one, the smaller shelter would be the cheaper option by far.

Still, there were some things that were more important than frugality, and that was symbolism. They needed to present a united front to the world as they traveled to unify two warring countries, and they needed to let Laura know that she was welcome in their group. She may have made the others uncomfortable now, but she was making an effort to correct the issue. In the meantime, she could sleep between him and the side of the tent so as not to disrupt anyone else's rest.

A small grunt followed by a ragged breath drew Ignis's attention to where Laura and Prompto sat facing each other at the haven's drop-off.

Laura immediately opened her eyes and snatched her hand back at the sound, chastising gently, "You should've said something sooner. Are you all right?"

Prompto's relief was instantaneous the moment her hand left him. His entire body sagged from its previously rigid position, and he beamed at her. "Yeah, no sweat. I can tell it's much better already, but I think my tolerance for it kinda wears down after a while."

"I think we should stop for the night."

"Yeah . . . maybe? I'm kinda dead," he said, gesturing toward the tent. He leapt to his feet, taking a few hopping steps forward as he gained his balance.

"Good night, Prompto," she said hesitantly, her eyes not leaving him as he gallantly did his best not to stagger toward the tent. "And thank you."

Prompto spun around on his heel, wobbling ever so slightly as he pointed a pair of finger guns in her direction and winked. "You got it, girl! Anytime!"

Ignis dropped his attention back to the work in his lap, trying to think of any additional expenses he hadn't considered, but nothing sprang to mind. After several moments, he felt rather than saw Laura settle into Noct's camp chair next to him. He finished tallying the bounties for their prospective hunts, placed the sheet of paper in his notebook, and looked over to see her staring blankly into the fire, her knees pulled up to her chest and the light from the flames dancing across her skin. She had wrapped a giant, monstrous looking blanket around herself, making her look like a child with the patchy brown fabric engulfing her like an overstretched garula skin.

"Will you be requiring my assistance this evening as well?"

Laura's vacant expression didn't change as she shook her head, and his mouth tugged down in a frown as he brushed away the somewhat surprising stirring of disappointment.

"It's been a long day, and you still look exhausted. I think I've imposed enough for one day."

"If you're fatigued, I can offer my services another time, but don't feel as though you need to decline on my behalf. My, err. . . predilection for caffeine in the evening tends to keep me up later than the rest. And I assure you, it's no burden on my part."

She turned toward him then, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, so he made the decision for her.

"Here."

He stood and pulled his chair close to hers so that the arms were touching. Turning toward Prompto's chair, he removed his gloves and jacket and laid them neatly across the back of the seat. He unbuttoned his cuffs and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows, folding them back precisely to bare his forearms. When he sat down beside her, he took a quick breath before reaching for her hand and entwining their fingers tightly, arranging it so that as much of his bare arm was laid overtop hers as possible.

And _still_ , he felt no discomfort from her touch, which was a relief, but also curious. Was it his intuition that allowed him to overcome whatever sense had overwhelmed the others?

Her hand was slightly cool despite their proximity to the fire, and _oh,_ so soft—lacking any callouses despite her no doubt extensive experience with blades. He'd never touched a woman—anyone—like this for an extended period, and he was somewhat scandalized and surprised by the sudden, insane thought that he should let go of her hand and run his fingertips along the veins of her wrist and up her forearm.

Shoving the feeling aside, he swallowed and turned his eyes from her to the fire, but the delicate scent of her perfume chased after his retreat, making him want to inhale until he was breathless. A deeper breath, and he could almost taste it on the back of his palate—fresh Duscaean pine needles from the Citadel gardens as they baked in the oppressive heat of a summer sun, mixed with a light, sweet floral scent he couldn't name. The aroma taunted him, making his blood burn and his heart beat a little faster.

What on Eos was the matter with him? It wasn't as though he was doing this for an excuse to . . . _fraternize_. She needed his help. The retinue needed his help. Perhaps he was more exhausted than he'd realized.

He let out a slow, steady breath in an attempt to compose himself.

"I must be getting better at this if you can bear that," she said quietly, contemplating their arms between them. "The additional skin contact seems to make the connection more intense."

He felt his cheeks set fire at her words and silently damned that his every thought seemed to show so easily on his face despite how successfully he managed to school his features. Astrals damn him, he thought he'd long broken that particular habit of his.

He was tempted to tell her that he'd never felt what the others had, and yet he didn't wish her to think he was some sort of freak. But what if he lacked the proper energy she needed to acclimate? She would have to rely on the others for realignment. Putting her through the humiliation of having to hold a stranger's hand if it wasn't going to help her, however, was not acceptable—even if he was apparently getting some sort of perverse pleasure from it. He decided to ask an indirect question to probe the matter.

"Does my touch cause you pain?" he asked, fearing either answer.

Her lips pinched together. After a moment's hesitation, she said, "I can still feel it, but it's not as strong as it was before. Hopefully, after a few days' practice, I won't rub you all the wrong way anymore, and I'll be able to breathe again."

So, his assistance was doing her good, and his touch was not unbearable. These were the best circumstances he could hope for.

"Are you all right?" he asked once he'd allowed himself a moment to inspect her face closely. She still appeared unhealthy to his eyes, her skin just this side of bloodless and translucent to be considered normal.

"I'm always all right," she answered dismissively.

Holding back the sigh of disappointment he wanted to release, he inclined his head to fix her with a piercing glare. Only just earlier this afternoon, Laura had proven herself a capable verbal sparring opponent. Surely, that tactic had never worked on a single soul she'd attempted it on. He had higher expectations of her after all he'd seen today.

She met his gaze with just as much heat. "I'm _fine_."

In the name of the Six, if he heard that word _one_ more time this evening . . .. Uncowed by the fire in her returning glare, he waited patiently until she dropped her eyes to their joined hands.

"The trial with Cor wasn't my first that day," she said, so softly that he almost hadn't heard her. "And on top of that, this . . . issue." She tightened her hold minutely on his hand. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling my best."

"I'd suspected as much," he said quietly. "Will solving this issue restore your health?"

She looked up at him and nodded.

"Then I shall make myself available every night for as long as I am needed."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Traveling with a fountain pen...I don't recommend it. But judging by that outfit, Ignis isn't _always_ practical. Canon wise, however, I should point out he uses a regular pen.


	6. Chapter 6

Gladio hadn't expected the air to be cool and a little damp when he unzipped the tent flap and poked his head out early the next morning. He was kinda surprised the light wasn't blasting him in the face, as it was well after six in the morning, and for some gods-unknown reason, Ignis had instructed him to set the tent up facing east. As his eyes found the horizon and the reason why his eyeballs weren't being fried out of his skull, he had to smile and shake his head.

Fucking Ignis Scientia was always thinking of everything.

Gladio'd had no clue why Iggy had been so gods damn specific about where everything had to be and in which direction it was facing yesterday as they'd set up camp, but seeing how the sun was hidden from this _specific_ spot by the highest peak of the mountain chain in the distance, he figured Iggy must've planned to keep the tent in the shade for a while as the sun rose . . . until it got to be late enough for Noct to be up, when it would shine directly through the tent flap onto his face.

With a soft groan, he hauled himself to his feet, tensing his sore muscles to stretch them out a little and relieve the ache he only felt after the most intense workouts. Seriously—he'd been kicking his own ass since he was old enough to walk. What was it about yesterday that had laid him flat like a cadet getting his first licking from Cor?

He turned toward the kitchen area, where he expected to find Iggy already up, dressed, mainlining Ebony, and cooking up enough to feed half the Crownsguard. It was a well-known fact that Ignis never slept, hardly ate, and was never seen doing anything that could be considered relaxing. In fact, now that they were out here about to engage in actual combat, Gladio was hoping to collect on the bet with Sampson that he'd get injured and wind up exposing wires instead of blood.

The demand for an ETA on breakfast died on his lips, however, when he saw that the stove was clean and cold, with no evidence of food anywhere in the vicinity.

Gladio had to admit a part of him thought he was seeing things when he swung his eyes around to the camp chairs, where the back of Ignis's head could be seen craned uncomfortably against the top of a smaller dark one resting on his shoulder. Slowly and silently, he crept around to the side for a better view. Sure enough, Iggy was passed out in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him so that his fancy shoes were nearly touching the fire ring of gently smoking logs. Laura was curled up in Noct's chair like a contented cat, and both of them were half covered in one of the ugliest blankets he'd ever laid eyes on. Over top the enormous pile of fabric that looked like a garula skin with a bad case of mange, Laura's long hair spilled down Iggy's chest and into his lap.

Gladio could maybe shrug this all off as an innocent mistake—except their fingers were entwined tightly with one another's on top of the blanket, as though they'd fallen asleep holding hands.

So, this shit was finally happening, huh? After all these years of pushing girls—and guys, just in case—in Iggy's direction, Gladio couldn't help but groan at his timing. All those years of him not taking the bait and making excuses about his duties to the Crown, Gladio'd just figured the guy was asexual or something, which was fine too. Gladio took his responsibilities seriously as well, but that didn't mean he hadn't found some time to have more than a little fun. And why shouldn't he? With whatever lay ahead of them, their lives were only gonna get harder the closer it came time for Noct to become King. The opportunities for living a free life were running out, and as many times as Gladio had tried to explain that to Iggy, he never thought the stiff bastard had ever listened to him.

But now, on the road like this with another member of the retinue, things could get complicated. He didn't want to put a stop to what was probably Ignis's first time having fun, especially on this trip, but he would at the first signs of distraction. Things in the city and out here were getting weird fast, and they all needed to be prepared for shit to hit the fan at any second.

Gods damn, but it was weird seeing Iggy so . . . expressive with someone after knowing them only a day. Hell, he and Noct had known him since they were kids and had never seen him touch anyone beyond a handshake, or if he was feeling particularly cuddly, a slap to the shoulder. And this particular girl . . . how could he stand to be near her without wanting to strangle her to death?

He had to say, he couldn't say much for Iggy's taste. Inspecting her slack face, he could admit she was pretty hot, but way too _weird_ for him, personally. She seemed nice enough—a little dumb, despite what Iggy had said about her origins—but it wasn't her IQ that really mattered to him. He'd make friends with anyone so long as they had a good heart. No—it was that crawling feeling deep in his instinct he couldn't seem to shake, even after he'd overheard her explanation for it last night.

And the fact that she was wearing a Glaive uniform now of all times wasn't exactly adding up in her favor. Unlike the others, Gladio had trained with Glaives since he was sixteen years old. Like with any group of people, there were some he liked and some he didn't, but working with all of them and overhearing their shit talk in the locker rooms had opened Gladio's eyes to a whole new side of Lucis—one that had always existed but had never been talked about. And he understood—really. Family came first. And even though he'd strayed away from his royal accent at seventeen and sworn he'd honor his king by respecting _all_ his subjects, thefamily that came first for him would always be the Royal Family.

It didn't sit right with him that this chick just showed up out of the blue from some place he'd never heard of, was currently wearing a Glaive mage uniform, and was cuddled up with one of the most aloof and mistrusting guys Gladio had ever met. What if she was trying to seduce Iggy to get to Noct somehow? Had she really been trying to bag King Regis before he sent her out here?

No—he wouldn't act on assumptions. His liege had ordered her to come with them, and he just had to trust that King Regis was making the right decisions. His dad might've been weird about his new assignment as "the People's Shield," but protecting the Chosen was still Lucis's top priority. He'd give her a chance, at the very least, to prove her dedication to House Caelum.

Still . . . he'd have to keep a close eye on them—on her.

 _Welp, time to meet the morning after, guys_ , he thought to himself as he scooped up the last of their firewood and dropped it unceremoniously onto the smoking pile.

Gladio didn't have time to react to their startled awakening, let alone enjoy it. Quick as lightning, the girl leapt to her feet, and with a deafening shriek and a sickening lurch of air, she had the fanciest silver-white falchion Gladio had ever seen pressed to his jugular before he could blink.

Fuck, he should've thought this through.

"Easy there," he growled through clenched teeth, fighting the instinct to put his hands around her throat. There was no doubt in his mind that maneuver would be the last one he ever made on this eos.

Her hardened expression softened instantly as she took several retreating steps and flicked the blade away with another ear-piercing screech.

"Gladio," she exhaled in horror. "I'm sorry. I . . . I can't believe I let my guard down that completely. I must've been tired, I—people can't usually sneak up on me like that."

"Not a good idea out here in the wild," he warned, his eyes darting to Iggy behind her.

Dismissing his own daggers in mortification, Iggy looked first to Gladio—opening his mouth to speak— then to the back of Laura's head for a moment before allowing his attention to shift to a spot just over Gladio's left shoulder. The flush spreading across his cheeks as that inhumanly intelligent mind fumbled for something to say was starting to remind Gladio of his own teenage years. Seemed like everyone, even Ice-Cold Scientia, was a slave to his hormones in the end.

Poor fucker.

But it was good to see him relaxing for once in his gods damned life, if that was what this could be called, so Gladio decided to take it easy on him—just this once.

"Runnin' a bit late this morning, Ig?" he asked with a smirk.

Iggy looked down to the haven floor, raising a hand across his eyes to push his glasses up on his face. "I'd better . . . freshen up before starting breakfast," he mumbled before striding off.

Huh. From the looks of things, the guy was a human after all.

Still chuckling to himself, he turned toward the girl—no, _Laura_ —who maintained a neutral expression as she raised her chin up at him.

"Ignis was just helping me acclimatize my energy patterns to yours, so I won't make you all uncomfortable anymore. We must have fallen asleep," she said coolly, but the slightest blush of pink still stained her cheeks as she spoke.

"Huh," he said thoughtfully, tilting his head as he inspected her, trying to decide if she was embarrassed at being caught making moves on Iggy or being caught unawares, "so that's what the kids are calling it these days."

He decided then and there it was gonna be fun teasing her, if only to see the blush on her face deepen, but maybe this whole thing was as innocent as she was claiming. This was Ice-Cold Scientia they were talking about, after all.

Even though he'd already felt her effect as she'd held a blade to his throat, he still held out a hand toward her to test. "Lemme see what you guys accomplished."

She grasped it like she was shaking his hand, and even though that need to summon his sword and cut her down still washed over him, he had to admit the feeling wasn't nearly as overwhelming as it had been the day before in the car.

"Well whaddya know," he said, giving her a crooked smile. "You actually feel a little more normal."

"A little," she replied in a business-like tone, releasing his hand and taking a step back. "A few more sessions with one of you should do the trick."

The fact that she hadn't named Ignis specifically for her murder therapy wasn't lost on him. Maybe he'd misread the situation and was jumping to conclusions. Weird as Iggy was, he was always eager to help anyone in need, especially a lady in distress, even if it left him spending the night in an uncomfortable camp chair. Granted, anyone was probably likely to receive way more information than they needed when they dared ask him for help, and probably a lecture, but whether it was hours before dawn, the middle of the day, or midnight, if it was possible to find the guy, Ignis was always willing to lend a hand.

Normally, Gladio might've been the same way, but this was one chore he definitely wouldn't be volunteering for.

"Well, keep us posted," he said, turning toward his camp chair. Just in case, he waited until he'd sat down and Laura had moved toward the stove before he took out his two-handed sword. He always kept a battle-ready edge on his blade, but the intricate details running up the center could always use a quick extra polish. With any luck, he was about to bloody the thing for the first time today, and he wanted it looking its best for the occasion.

But he kept a close eye on Iggy and Laura as they chatted over breakfast prep.

"You guys brought along steel-cut oats? On a camping trip?"

"I find the loss of quality in instant to be too great to tolerate. Would you care for some this morning?"

She hesitated, and Gladio smirked down at his work, wondering if Iggy was gonna throw another silent hissy fit when she didn't eat his food.

His posture seemed to visibly unclench when she answered, "Perhaps a little. No more than a couple of bites, please."

"As you wish," he said jovially. "My only regret is that I haven't yet located a fruit I was hoping to find out here, which would go splendidly with these oats. They don't carry it in Insomnia, I'm afraid."

"What's it called?"

"I believe it's called 'peach.'"

"Oh! I know peaches. You're right. Peaches and cream oatmeal is one of my favorites."

"Is it now?" he asked, interest practically dripping from his tone.

Gladio couldn't help but release a small snort, wondering if this meant they were gonna find those gods damned peaches and be eating peaches and cream oatmeal every gods damned morning on this trip.

"Something amusing with your sword, Gladio?" Iggy asked.

"Naw, it's just . . . if they don't have peaches in Insomnia, how'd you hear about 'em in oatmeal?"

"I—" He stopped, his brow furrowing. "Do you know? I can't recall. Something in my memory suggests that they can be found in Leide, though I didn't see any while we were in Hammerhead."

"Never heard of 'em. So you know what they look like?"

"They're round, bright orange and yellow, and they have a unique sweet-tart, almost floral flavor."

"That's a peach, certainly," Laura said, "but you won't find any growing in Leide unless the climate changes drastically somewhere in the region."

"Well, then, it sounds as though we have a mystery on our hands. Perhaps we'll encounter them in Altissia, as Accordo is a fertile growing region."

Figuring he couldn't polish his sword any more than it already was, Gladio reached deep for his connection with the Crystal through Noct and dismissed it to his personal armiger. Maybe if they did well these next couple of days, he could pick up that sick war sword in Hammerhead he'd been eyeing as he was checking out Dr. Yeagre hanging out by the arms dealer.

"Gladio," Ignis called, not looking back at him as he removed the lid to the steaming pot and scraped and stirred their breakfast with a practiced air. "You'd better awaken Prompto and His Highness now if we're to complete a hunt in addition to Cindy's errands today."

"Yeah, no sweat," he grinned.

Gladio was rarely put in the position to have to wake Noct up; that kinda thing was usually Ignis's job. He'd been given the pleasure exactly once when they'd all stayed too late at Noct's place and Ig had had a meeting or some shit to get to. Gladio never did have the patience to let the alarm slowly bring Noct to consciousness like Iggy probably did. Half-sitting on his face and releasing the loudest, nastiest fart he could muster was far more entertaining. The resulting week-long whine-fest ensured Iggy would never ask for such a favor again—until the morning he got caught sleeping with a girl draped over him, it seemed.

Now all he had to do was decide whether he wanted to try the farting trick again or go with something more classic, like a nice bucket of water.

* * *

With a long, mournful howl, the last sabertusk of the pack collapsed under Noct's sword, going limp before he yanked the steel from between the animal's shattered ribs. He turned to the rest of the group with a triumphant smile, but while Gladio raised a fist in congratulations and Iggy was ready with a word of praise, Prompto frowned a little to himself.

"Maybe it's just me, but I felt kinda bad taking those things down," he said hesitantly. "I mean, we won and all, but somehow I feel sorry for them." He let out a pained sigh. "Wonder if I'll ever get the hang of all this fighting."

"Sure you will," Gladio said, leaning out to give him a rough shove to the side, "if you live long enough."

Ignis replied in a gentle, understanding tone, "You're not alone, but out in the wild, it's kill-or-be-killed."

"For some of us, at least," Gladio muttered, definitely not looking in the direction where Laura was waiting off in the distance, but he didn't think anyone had heard him.

"Personally, I'd prefer the former," Noct said. With a casual flick of his wrist, he dismissed the blade into his armiger and began cockily strolling back toward Laura. "How much longer till we find this special dualhorn Dave and that scientist wanted us to track down, anyway?"

"Sania said the bloodhorn should be in this area, and we've been seein' tracks. Should be soon," Gladio answered. "Nice job with that last one, by the way."

"Thanks. Would've done better though if I'd had a clear shot for a warp-strike when we first spotted them."

Gladio cast a side-eye at Iggy, who was doing his best to inconspicuously check everyone over for injuries next to him. "Yeah."

If it weren't for the fact that a member of House Amicitia had served as the King's sworn Shield since the Founder King himself, Gladio might've thought Ignis was aiming for his job.

Cor seemed to have identified Ig's brilliance when he marched into his office at fifteen and requested to join the Crownsguard in order to better protect Noct. Even though Gladio had been working with Cor since he was big enough to swing a sword, Ignis seemed to have immediately earned his esteem and respect in a way Gladio never could. And then Gladio had been officially outshone when Ignis became the first Crownsguard-inducted member who could healcast almost like a Glaive—not to mention that weird spirit magic he could pull. Gladio would never admit it out loud, but it kinda pissed him off the way things just seemed to come to the guy despite the fact they were _both_ working their asses off.

And now out here . . . that pack of sabertusks had been their first hunt, and already Iggy was stepping between Noct and danger, tossing daggers across their paths, getting his arm ripped open because he flung it between Noct and a set of sharp jaws.

It turned out that though a sound didn't escape his lips as they applied their first potion to his arm, Ignis Scientia did, in fact, bleed like a real man.

But Gladio was supposed to be the Shield, not Ignis. And while he'd gladly step in front of Noct to save his life, what Iggy didn't understand was that Gladio had also received a lifetime of training on how to toughen the kid up, turn him into a king, allow him to come into his own. It was gonna take a few hits to turn him into King Regis, and they were gonna need him to be even more than that if he was going to become the Chosen. The Prince had been pampered and babied enough in these last twenty years. It was time to let loose, have a little fun, and learn what it felt like to hurt and experience the consequences of his actions a little.

They'd had this argument before back at the Citadel—several times. And while Iggy agreed that Noct should be given the opportunities to grow, he believed that growth should be at Noct's pace, not Gladio's. Gladio had yet to see evidence of Noct "eventually doing what was asked of him" without a little ass kicking first, but Iggy was a fast learner. Hopefully he'd catch on soon. Otherwise, words were gonna have to be exchanged.

"You know, it just occurred to me, but this is _totally_ like King's Knight," Prompto said, tripping a little as he skipped over an outcropping of rock.

Noct curled his lip in disgust as he hopped over an enormous pile of shit from what looked like a herbivorous animal—a bloodhorn, maybe? They had to have been getting close.

"Huh?" Noct asked distractedly.

"There's four of us, just like in the game! See?"

"Well, then I gotta be a five-star character," he laughed, skipping to Prompto's side like a happy-go-lucky kid. A full day outside the city, and already, they were all feeling the weight of Insomnia lifting off their shoulders. Yeah . . . this trip was gonna be good for them.

"Hell no," Gladio replied, reaching out to ruffle Prompto's 'do he'd spent so much time on this morning. "If anyone here's a 'Rare,' it's me. I did take out the most sabertusks."

"No way! I was at a disadvantage!" Noct argued, his eyes sliding over to Iggy for a second before hardening on Gladio.

"Dude," Prompto argued, "you can _warp_."

"Yeah, but it takes a lot outta me. You'd understand if you could do it yourself."

"Man, I wish! That'd be so rad."

"I might suggest," Ignis said in a low voice, "that we all keep in mind there are five of us in this retinue, even if one of us has chosen to forgo certain aspects of this trip."

"Oh yeah," Prompto said, frowning as he looked up at Laura waiting for them on the next hill over. "I swear, Iggy, I don't mean to! She just . . .."

"Yeah, same here," Noct agreed.

Gladio raised his eyes to the figure picking her way down toward them and nodded. He wasn't trying to stir unnecessary shit with her or anyone in the group, but there was just something about the way she would sometimes kinda slip his mind when he was beyond the influence of her presence.

"Hmm," Iggy said, observing their responses with narrowed eyes. "Perhaps a byproduct of her effect."

"We're trying, Specs, honest," Noct said under his breath before Laura got too close.

"And I appreciate the effort, Highness—as will His Majesty when he receives her report upon our return."

"You think she's reporting directly to the King?" Gladio asked.

"Evidence at her trial would seem to suggest so."

Damn—which meant she was an even bigger deal than he'd thought. There were few people not on the Council that reported directly to the King. Even Cor reported to Gladio's dad. His old man was one the few who received regular private audiences, though he also held a couple of special positions as the Shield, the head of the Crownsguard, and the Prime Minister seat on the Council. The only other military official he could think of reporting directly to King Regis was Titus Drautos.

"Hey guys," Laura said brightly. "I found some more tomatoes and peas while you were busy. I think we're about stocked up on them now."

"We finished off the sabertusks for Dave," Gladio said, watching her carefully for signs of being upset about the bloodshed, but her expression didn't change at the news. "Now we gotta find this mutated bloodhorn."

"Seeing as how that scientist called it 'abnormally strong' and 'extremely violent,' can't say I wanna find it," Prompto said.

"She's not just any scientist," Gladio informed him. "Sania's the real deal—a world-renowned biologist."

"Sania . . . last name Yeagre, if I'm not mistaken," Iggy said thoughtfully.

"Took you long enough to make the connection," he shot back, probably a little smugly. It wasn't often he could out-inform Iggy, and he sure as hell was gonna take the opportunity to rub it in a little. After all, just because Gladio had cast aside the image of regality in favor of being down-to-eos didn't mean he hadn't done well in school, too.

"Sania who?" Noct asked.

"Sania Yeagre," Iggy answered, "famed professor of biology from the University of Insomnia. Her works have been published the world over. Unfortunately, her reputation has suffered as of late due to her decision to leave the city and study the mutative organisms beginning to crop up around Lucis."

"Whoa, she's a big deal?" Prompto asked. "You sure don't get that impression."

"Yeah, her latest project's this dualhorn with blood-red tusks," Gladio said. "There's been a rise in mutated animals coming outta the wild and attacking people lately. She and Dave think it's due to the nights gettin' longer."

"Nights getting longer?" Laura asked. "Since it's early summer, I take it you don't mean because of seasonal changes."

"Naw, I was talkin' to her in Hammerhead. She says the average amount of daylight we've been getting s'been decreasing steadily for a while now, but no one's studying it except for her."

"That's . . . rather troubling. A change in daylight can affect animal behavior, certainly, but the reason behind the reduction could possibly be deadly to the entire world."

"I would say that's an understatement. Could the darkness Noct is supposed to eradicate in the prophecy be far more literal than we've been led to believe?" Iggy said. "I wonder why news of this hasn't reached the Citadel yet."

"Seems like a lotta news doesn't reach the Citadel these days," Gladio said darkly. "But probably cause we don't got a lotta scientists in Lucis."

As they drew clear of the corner of a craggy rock sticking up out of the dirt, they halted, growing quiet. Roughly twelve feet ahead of them was a field of churned and upturned soil about the size of his back yard at home. Scraggly bushes had been ripped up from their roots to lie wilted and defeated across the ruts, and the backside of the rock they'd just rounded was scarred with what looked like long, jagged scrapes from something sharp.

"You think . . .?" Prompto asked.

"Think we're getting closer," Noct said softly. "So that's why the bounties?"

"Yeah, that's why the Hunters are out in full force around here," Gladio answered. "Thing's obviously gone feral. Come on. Let's get this over with."

They followed the stump-like tracks off to the north in silence for several moments before Prompto asked, "So, they're the new Crownsguard or something?"

"Similar, though technically a civilian outfit," Ignis said.

"I dunno. They've definitely seen a lot more action than we have," Gladio said, doing his best to keep the resignation out of his voice.

Even though the Crownsguard were considered the best of the best in Insomnia, there was really no one to compete with besides border patrol and the Crown City Police. It was only due to his own initiative that he'd trained with Drautos and the other Glaives, and he was baffled to realize that at the age of twenty-three, after he'd already sworn his oath as Noct's Shield, he was as green as a first year cadet compared to any member of the Kingsglaive—and now these civ Hunters. Why hadn't he been better prepared as Shield of the Chosen? Why had he, Iggy, and Noct been so shielded from the real world, given what they would have to do one day?

But what was done was done. The best thing he could do for himself _and_ for Noct was to take on any challenge while they were out here—maybe even become well-seasoned Hunters in their own right.

"I met some Hunter friends of Shawna's yesterday while you guys were talking to Dave," Laura said. "Apparently, he's the son of their leader, Ezma."

"That's excellent news, indeed. We'll have to keep in touch while we're on the continent," Ignis said. "He'll serve as an excellent liaison for the goings on in the area, I'm certain."

Laura stopped suddenly, holding out a hand to halt them as she closed her eyes and cocked her head. "Shh. Hear that?"

Gladio mimicked her posture, straining his ears to pick up on what she might've heard. At first, all he could pick up on was the rustling of grass and dry leaves rubbing together in the trees. If he held his breath and waited for the wind to grow still, he thought he could hear a sort of scuffling off to the northwest . . . maybe?

"How do we know it's the creature we're looking for?" Ignis asked softly.

"I don't hear anything," Noct said.

"Hmm, less time wearing headphones, perhaps. Music that close to your eardrums deadens sensitivity."

"I just have a feeling. Come on," Laura said.

She trotted several steps in the direction of the faint sound, but Gladio called out softly behind her, "You mean you aren't staying behind this time?"

"Finally gonna join us, huh?" Prompto asked.

"Mutated, highly dangerous animal? I should at least stick closer this time."

"You could do one better and help out," Gladio muttered.

Her attention flicked in his direction for a second, unamused, before she picked up the pace. "I _can't_."

The four of them grew silent as they followed behind, trying their best to mimic her silent, bounding movements over the dry grass. Gladio tried to brush off the fact that she'd rushed in and taken over his role as tracker, but at this point, he had to accept that they weren't even tracking so much as following a hunch and a sound.

She led them beneath a pipe bridge of some kind and aimed for a boulder set along the edge of a cliff, but Gladio had already spotted their quarry and began leading the other three toward the wild beast pawing at the ground with a massive foot.

" _That's_ a dualhorn?" Prompto asked. "It's nostrils are smoking!"

"Doubtless part of its mutation. We'd best make quick work of this," Ignis said. "I recommend forming a strat—Noct!"

Gladio knew what it meant when Noct raised his sword above his shoulder like that—like he was gonna warp-strike into the animal's face—and while Gladio was all for the kid growing a pair, this was one of those situations where it was necessary for him to jump in and be the Shield.

"Wait a sec!" Gladio warned, leaping in front of him and raising his sword while Ignis put a hand on his shoulder him from behind.

"What—scared, big guy?" Prompto taunted, but Gladio noticed he kept his feet firmly planted by Noct's side behind Gladio.

"You oughta be, too. Thing's vicious."

"You sure? Looks tame to me."

"Yeah," Noct added unnecessarily.

The dualhorn seemed to sense Prompto's doubt and took several lumbering steps forward, it's blood-red horns lowered in a threat even Gladio's inexperienced eye could interpret clearly.

"Look out!" Ignis shouted, but Gladio had already timed the arc of his sword so that it would meet the beast's legs three strides before its horns met any of them. With a feral grunt, he swiped the steel across its vulnerable tendons, cutting the dualhorn's legs from underneath it. With a deafening crash, it collapsed onto its side, kicking up a cloud of dust as it skidded to a halt in the dirt.

"Yeah! Show him who's boss!" Prompto cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

"Nice one, Gladio!" Noct applauded.

Gladio still had his sword raised above his head in triumph when Iggy lunged forward to push Prompto out of the way.

"It's not over yet!" he shouted as the dualhorn rolled to its feet with a groan.

"Ahh!" Prompto shrieked, scrambling to the side to get out of the way of the solid wall of horned head shaking itself in fury in front of them.

Gladio grinned to himself as he hefted his sword over his shoulder. _This_ was the kinda shit he was born to do.

"Ready for round two?" he roared in anticipation. "Bring it!"

"Watch yourself, Noct!" Iggy called out as Noct rushed forward.

"I _know_ ," Noct snapped.

"Come on, guys," Gladio urged, hoping to lighten the mood some. "This is s'posed to be fun. Remember, Noct, Iggy may be our tactician, but you're in charge. You gotta tell us when we can bust out our moves, but remember, we can't use 'em all the time . . .."

* * *

"And that's how we get it done!" Gladio bellowed in triumph as he slashed his sword through the neck of their final sabertusk for the day. Hot damn, they should've started doing this years ago! They were all getting pretty good at hitting the moving targets, which were definitely harder to kill than the practice dummies Cor used to set up in the Citadel gardens for them to stalk and poke at like they were cats playing with toy mice.

It'd turned out he'd been right that first day out on the plains—he'd been born for this kinda life. If he hadn't been born a Shield, he could imagine escaping out here—hunting out in the fresh air, finally letting loose and actually getting to use the sharp part of his blade on something that would bite back, being able to dress like a 'heathen' in this gods damn heat—the only bad part about the past several days. But he could stand a little extra sweat in his leather if it meant he could escape his responsibilities for a while. He sure as hell wasn't interested in rushing back to Insomnia anytime soon.

Ig had already processed one of their anaks by the time Gladio had finished yanking all the valuable parts off the sabertusks, and they had just met up in front of the anak Gladio and Noct had killed when Iggy paused, tilting his head and frowning down at the creature Gladio had seen for the first time today. It looked fat enough to get some decent cuts of meat from, but he didn't see what could be making Iggy so upset.

"What's up, Ig?" Gladio asked when he sighed and started working on removing the thing's haunches, hacking through the joints with a spare machete he'd pulled from the armiger.

"Sirloin's been sliced to ribbons," Iggy said through gritted teeth as he yanked the leg free and inspected the area on the animal's side, where Gladio and Noct had done the most damage.

And here was the part about Ice-Cold Scientia that always pissed everyone off back at the Citadel. It wasn't enough that they'd killed everything without needing more than a couple of potions, no. They also needed to get degrees in butchery while they were at it. Gods damn, it seemed like he was never satisfied.

"Wait," Noct said, shooting him a disbelieving look. "You mean we're s'posed to be considering cuts of meat on this thing? No way, Specs."

"I'm just tryin' not to die, thanks," Prompto added.

Gladio let out a sigh. Yeah, it was annoying, but it was best not to piss off the chef. "Point out the areas you want us to avoid. Can't make any promises though."

Once Iggy had finished lecturing them on which parts of the animal would be turned to ground meat anyway and which were better served as steaks, butchering the animal as he spoke, he stood straight and said, "I believe that was all we had on our list today. The anaks were quite the windfall. Let us collect Laura and return to the haven for supper."

Gladio spared a glance just outside the combat area where, predictably, Laura was standing, her face a mask of stoicism as she kept watch. But he was used to this scene, as they had spent the past several days hunting for fun and profit in the area while Cid took his gods damned time fixing the Regalia.

Even after having spent almost a week with her, he couldn't understand why the girl insisted on coming but refused to help. At the very least, she'd stayed true to her word and hadn't said a damn thing about them killing the wildlife; he would've ripped her a new one if she'd tried.

She had mentioned something about not being able to protect Noct should something go wrong while she was back at the camp, but then what did she think _he_ was there for? The fact that the King had felt another fighter was necessary on this mission still rankled, even if the state of things in the city had unsettled his instincts as of late. Inexperienced or not, hadn't he proven himself a capable Shield? The others had their own positions in addition to combat skills that didn't overlap with his—the momma and the best friend. But after hearing about Laura's fight with Cor, Gladio knew that she had been assigned to be an assassin, like him, even if she was apparently a card-carrying member of the SPCA or some shit. She had yet to even prove herself to them in battle beyond Iggy's word, and after a week of watching her stand idly by as they did all the work, he was feeling up to a challenge.

He sighed, kicking at a rock in his path as they walked. Clearly, he was still trying and failing to take the high road and consider it extra safety for his liege. He'd have to do better about that, or this was gonna be a long trip.

There was one way to work off his frustration with her, and she should have the energy for it, as she hadn't done much today besides some foraging. If what Ignis had said about her combat skill was true, then it was a waste to have her in their group and not take advantage of the learning opportunity, but he had a feeling maybe her abilities had been exaggerated. No way could this little girl have taken on Cor the Immortal in a fancy dress.

And because of whatever hand holding she and Iggy'd been doing every night, he thought he could stand to be close to her without accidentally snapping and killing her . . . but he should probably insist on no weapons this time, just in case. If he won, he'd have something to crow about back home, even if he had to add an asterisk to the victory for not beating her at the sword.

"Hey, Laura!" he called out to her as the four of them approached. "Wanna spar tonight before dinner? No weapons, just fists. First one pinned has to do the dishes for Iggy."

He thought the wager was more than fair, since she'd done the dishes with Iggy every night so far, anyway. She was almost obsessive about cleanliness, just like Iggy. Gladio'd even gotten up a couple of times in the middle of the night to take a piss to find her awake, polishing Iggy's boots or washing and pressing their clothes with nothing but a bucket and a flat iron pulled from the fire. The first time it'd happened, she gave a little wave and said something about not usually needing much sleep.

Six, what a pair they'd make—making sure everyone ate their vegetables and brushed their teeth for at least two minutes before bed before staying up all night scrubbing down the haven with toothbrushes.

Laura's face relaxed into a more natural expression as they got closer. "Sounds interesting, and I'm sure it's the only way Ignis is going to get any of _your_ help in the kitchen," she accused.

"Dayum! We got ourselves a competition going on up in here!" Prompto crowed, jumping up and slapping Gladio on the back. "You're soooo gonna get it!"

"This _should_ be interesting," Noct mused. "Pre-dinner entertainment?"

"Either way, it sounds as though I win," Ignis added with a sly smile. "Would you mind staging the performance where I may watch from the stove?"

"No problem, Iggy. I'll make sure you get front row seats to your new dishwasher getting her ass whooped."

"Ha!" She flashed them all a sassy tongue-to-tooth smile before turning her back to them, sashaying in the direction of their camp and adding an extra sway to her hips even Gladio could appreciate. Looking over her shoulder flirtatiously, she said, "Remember that cockiness, now, boys. We'll see who receives an ass whooping."

Her attempt at mimicking his colorful phrasing sounded awkward in her posh accent, but he had to give her points for trying. Maybe she wasn't an Iggy clone, after all.

"Looks like Cindy just got some competition," Noct said smugly, nodding toward Prompto's star-struck expression.

"Dude, I think I'm in love. Seriously!"

"You're in love with _everyone_ ," Gladio said, rolling his eyes and giving Prompto's head a little shove.

"You tryin' to say I don't got standards?"

"Yeah, maybe I am."

"Easy for you to say when you get like, _all_ the girls. Talk about standards."

"Ha! Jealous much?"

Gladio grinned when Prompto didn't answer. "Stick with me, kiddo, and you'll learn a thing or two."

When they returned to the haven, Laura immediately disappeared into the tent while Gladio marked out a clear section of dirt just within Iggy's line of sight. As he casually kicked a few of the larger rocks out of the makeshift arena, he took the time to think about his strategy. He figured that their almost comical disparity in size would be the deciding factor in this fight. His longer reach would make it easier for him to get a hold of her, and once he did, his superior strength would finish the job. Her size would make her faster, and therefore more difficult to catch, however. Still, even if she did somehow manage to get a hold of him, he couldn't see how she planned on taking him down. She was almost a full foot shorter than he was, and he could probably lift her one-handed and throw her halfway across the clearing if he wanted.

But no matter what, he couldn't underestimate her. It'd be in his best interest to end this quickly.

After a couple of minutes, she emerged from the tent in a pair of black shorts and a tank top, her feet bare and her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She strutted confidently across the dirt, unaffected by the rocky dirt beneath the soles of her feet, and stood at the ready about ten paces from him.

"Kick her ass, Gladio!" Noct cheered from his perch at the edge of the haven.

"Language, Noct!" Iggy called out from the stove as Prompto let out a "Whoop-whoop!"

"What, no ball gown this time, Princess?" Gladio teased, leering at her.

"I had more than ten seconds to prepare for this match," she shot back. "No weapons, no magic. Any other rules I should know about?"

"Nope, that about covers it." He tossed a sloppy salute to Noct and Prompto before turning back to her. "Begin!"

He didn't give her the chance to assess his stance or strategy and rushed her, bringing up the fist of his non-dominant hand at the last moment to catch her off guard. He may as well have been moving in slow motion, because she ducked his fist easily with a merry laugh and as she bent lower, used her momentum to swing her left leg up and around from behind her. As he recovered his momentum and reached out to grab her, she jumped, swiping that leg across his cheek with a powerful _thwack_ of skin hitting skin. Gladio stumbled backward, his head swimming a little as he tried to keep his eyes on her. She tossed him a cheeky grin and spun off to his side.

In all his years of combat training, he'd never seen anyone move like that in his life. She seemed to dance faster than his eyes could follow, using a bizarre cross between ballet and a bastardized form of some kind of martial art. Her body twisted and spun away in counter to every move he'd ever learned, almost the moment he'd decided to make that move. He swore he even saw her go up on her toes like a fucking ballerina for a moment before kicking him in the chest, but he was too busy contemplating how he was going to get a hold of her to stop and verify.

And all the while, she was giving him this wide, teasing grin and sparkling eyes—like she wasn't even concentrating on the fight, like she was playing with him.

The moment she took him down was shocking one for Gladio, but he guessed he shouldn't have been too surprised, given what she'd done to Cor. He couldn't figure out how she'd gotten all the way up his back to catch his neck and jaw with one of her thighs, but he was already immobilized by the time he felt her other thigh wrap itself around the back of his head and _twist_ in an alarming way. Helpless, he toppled backward, completely at her mercy. When he crashed to the ground with his neck between her knees and her body slamming hard on her side above him, he knew a simple jerk of her powerful legs could snap his neck in two. Still too stunned to say anything through the careful pressure applied to his trachea, he hit the ground next to him twice, tapping out.

"Whoa," he heard Prompto say to Noct in an awestruck voice, but he didn't hear Noct's reply.

On hearing him tap out, Laura immediately let him go, spinning to her feet and bending to grab his hand and pull him up. "I believe," she said between breaths, "you now owe Ignis a load of clean dishes."

"And on that note," Ignis called out, "it would be wise to get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

Gladio watched his boots shuffling in the dirt as they made their way back to the haven together. No matter what, he couldn't let this get him down. As he did when he found out the Glaives could kick his ass, he was gonna use this as an opportunity to improve. He was trapped on this trip with the best fighter he'd ever seen; it only made sense to learn what he could these next couple of weeks so he could kick _her_ ass one of these days. Seeing as how she was always awake when he and Iggy got up in the mornings, he figured it might be a good idea to ask her to spar before his warm-up.

"Sorry about that," Laura mumbled softly next to him, also watching her feet as they walked side-by-side back to the haven. "Being the girl, I had to prove myself to you guys, you know?"

He looked over at her in surprise. "I woulda been pissed if you'd thrown it."

When she looked up at him with those wide, anxious blue eyes, he swore she almost looked vulnerable. "So we're good?"

He grinned down at her. "Yeah, we're good, Princess."

Her answering smile reminded him of when he'd do something to make Iris happy, so he ignored the weird feeling and briefly put his arm around her shoulder. She hesitated for a second before leaning into his side.

"Thanks."

By the time Gladio dunked the dirty dishes into the dishwashing bucket and the others had pulled their chairs up around the makeshift kitchen so he could still be a part of the conversation, he felt like his stomach was gonna explode from the half an anak's worth of prairie-style skewers he'd horked down. How dare such a tasty-ass animal not come to his attention for the first twenty-three years of his life? Why the hell hadn't they been serving these in Insomnia all along?

"If you weren't such a gods damn genius, you could've opened a skewer stand, I swear, Ig," Gladio grunted as he plunged his hands into the hot water and grabbed one of the plates to wash.

Iggy settled in his chair with a can of Ebony, immediately reaching out to interlace the fingers of his free hand with Laura's, and gave him a calculating look over the frames of his glasses. But Gladio ignored the expression or what it could mean and paused to stare significantly at their entwined hands. This was the first time they'd done that before everyone had gone to bed—which either meant they were trying to make things public or prove they had nothing to hide.

Gladio's attention slid to Noct, whose eyes darted from his phone screen to shoot the two an odd look.

"Well, I should like to set my sights somewhat higher than restauranteur," he said airily, "but I take it you enjoyed the skewers, then?"

"Yeah, perfect meal to follow up a kickass spar," Gladio said with a grin.

"You mean _getting_ your ass kicked," Noct laughed.

As Iggy let out a disapproving tut at Noct, Prompto practically vibrated out of his chair to lean toward Laura. "Seriously, that was incredible! I've never seen anything like that!"

"It certainly was quite the performance," Ignis said.

"What kinda fighting do you call that, anyway?"

Laura shrugged, looking down at her lap. "I change my style to fit the opponent I'm fighting. I'll confess to showing off just a little bit this time," she said with a self-deprecating grimace. "This was mostly a combination of ballet, gymnastics, and a mix of about twenty different martial arts I've picked up over the years."

Iggy tilted his head thoughtfully. "Hmm. I did take a couple of years of gymnastics myself to improve my form, but I'd never given any thought to turning to ballet for combat. How creative."

"Oh yes," Laura said, her expression brightening, "I've noticed some of the more acrobatic moves you do, particularly with the polearm. But between the gymnastics and the double-bladed technique, our fighting styles are actually quite similar."

"Well, I wouldn't say that," he mumbled, looking down at his coffee can. "Your style is much more elegant, I believe."

"Nonsense. You're just lacking my experience is all."

Ahh, this mysterious experience of hers. They'd all had more than one conversation about what it could be as they walked back to her location on the outskirts of a battle. Gladio figured she must've been a Shield to the Crown of this Miriásia place before it fell. Iggy, of course, refused to speculate until she'd volunteered the information herself. The most outrageous theory had been concocted by Noct and Prompto, who were convinced that she was some kind of orphan raised by Draconian priests in a secluded mountain town. She never offered any kinda information, and none of them were sure if they really had the right to ask with her reporting directly to the King, though it seemed Iggy was constantly trying out his subtle manipulations on her to get her to open up more. But since she'd brought the matter up, Gladio figured he'd walk out on a ledge and get her to elaborate.

"So you do have real-life battle experience?"

Her fell as her gaze turned inward. "Oh yes, quite a bit," she said in a small, faraway voice.

Well fuck. He hadn't meant to make her sad. This was why soldiers didn't ask shit like that. He should've listened to his dad's advice and kept his mouth shut. But still . . . the thought of it . . . she'd actually _killed_ people.

But that must've meant she was about Iris's age when she went into battle, or even younger. That kinda thing wasn't unheard of in Lucis, but gods damn, the thought of his little sister in a kingdom-ending war made him sick.

"Why are you holding hands like that?" Noct interrupted suddenly. Gladio raised an eyebrow in his direction. He'd never known Noct to be socially aware enough to understand when the subject needed changing, but he was grateful for the intervention nevertheless.

Prompto looked up from his phone. "It's for that energy alignment thing, right? You must be doing better if Iggy can stand it for this long," he laughed. "I barely held on for five minutes a few nights ago."

"Indeed. I'm helping Laura with the issue of her incompatible energy signature. With some luck, her aura won't be pushing us out of the Regalia tomorrow as we head for Galdin Quay."

As Gladio set aside another clean plate to dry, he surreptitiously shot a glance to Noct, who leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Huh, guess I've barely noticed . . . whatever that was lately. Thought it was cause we weren't cooped up in the car."

"I hope to soon reach the point where you no longer notice it at all, even when I touch you," she said to him.

"And your magic?" Noct asked. "I noticed you're not using the armiger."

She grimaced. "My magic will never be the same here as it is back home, which is frustrating, as your access to the Crystal's magic is so . . . limited, if you'll forgive me. I'll probably continue to store my weapons with my own magic; it doesn't take much energy to pull them out. But I should start storing some other things in the armiger with yours, if only to familiarize myself with the Crystal's magic. The King did give me a, well . . . flash run-through of how to use the powers, but that's no replacement for practice."

"If you don't mind my asking, how is your magic different?" Ignis asked.

"The energy comes directly from my body instead of being channeled through a crystal," she replied. "What it can do is defined by the limits of my imagination and my body's energy." She moved the palm of her free hand in front of Ignis and whispered, "Ithīr, kithairon."

With a soft whine, a bright silver ball of fire in the shape of a round, ruffled blossom small enough to fit in the palm of her hand leapt to life in front of Ignis. As the edges of the petals danced in flickering flames, Gladio swore he could even smell a sweet floral scent wafting toward him.

"My word," Ignis breathed, his wide eyes and awestruck expression lit from below by the magical fire. "It's beautiful."

Gladio paused in scrubbing the metal skewer sticks free of carbon to stare openly at the unleashed magic in front of him. Only the King and a few Glaives were able to manipulate the elements raw like that, and never in a specific shape, color, or no freaking way scent—what the hell.

The truth was that Laura was right—the Lucians' access to the Crystal, the only source of magic on the entire planet as far as he knew, was limited to a few spells, mostly having to do with the elements and the source of light that created the Wall and protected them from the daemonic hordes. According to legend, the Caelum line was tasked by the gods themselves to protect the Crystal because they were the only ones capable of wielding its powers in addition to their own. Lucis had prospered beyond all other empires and kingdoms because of House Caelum's protection these past two thousand years, but that prosperity was also the reason why Niflheim was so intent on taking them down. More than its lands and its riches, Niflheim wanted to get their hands on that rock. Who knew what they would be capable of with all that power if they learned to channel it?

But even though he didn't wanna admit it, Lucis was fighting a losing battle. House Caelum's powers seemed to be getting weaker with each generation—most noticeably when King Mors had had to scale back the Wall, which used to stretch all the way to Keycatrich, leaving millions of his subjects defenseless. Gladio had learned in his classes that it'd been a contentious decision at the time, but it was either that, or he'd lose the strength to hold up the Wall altogether. Now, even with the reduced territory, King Regis's life was being drained away to the point where he could no longer summon his own Royal Arms.

And Noct. Not only could Noct not hardcast like his old man, he could barely create and maintain Crystal servants. This treaty was King Regis's only way of preserving some kinda future for the kingdom of Lucis—to give Noct the chance to grow into what he'd been prophesied to become.

But Laura's display was living proof that there were somehow other sources of magic in the world besides the Crystal servants created by the King. And there was Iggy and the Glaives, who still needed the connection to the Crystal but could do things with magic even Noct couldn't. The idea gave him hope.

She held the flame for a few moments before closing her fist and extinguishing it. "It takes far more energy here to do my magic than anywhere else I've ever been, and since my body is attempting to create my energy using nourishment from your land, the conversion process is sloppy and inefficient. A powerful enough spell will drain me completely in such a way that I would not recover, and I could die. Clearly, I need to learn not to rely on those skills in battle; I can't be passing out when we're in danger. I'm just not used to operating with all these . . . hindrances," she said, scrunching her nose with distaste. "I'm hoping the longer I'm here, the easier it'll get to use my magic, or at least the faster I'll recover from using complex spells, but I'm not holding out hope."

"Well, you're gonna have to rely on good old-fashioned teamwork to get you through then," Gladio said as he stood to dump out the dish bucket over the edge of the haven.

She nodded, then added, "Which reminds me. Don't use any of your potions on me should I become incapacitated. I'm not sure what such a concentration of that much foreign magic would do to my system, especially in a vulnerable state."

"How would you suggest we care for you then?" Ignis asked.

"Just . . . let me be. Hopefully it won't come to that, but mundane medicine is the best method in this case."

With dinner finished and everything cleaned up to Iggy's satisfaction, they all settled into what had become their nightly routines. Gladio counted out a few sets of one-handed pushups before sitting down to a game of King's Knight with Prompto and Noct. Iggy released Laura's hand for long enough to make himself a cup of Ebony, but immediately settled back down by her side with one of his wildlife books.

Gladio pulled his own book out on the tea ceremonies of ancient Lucis once he'd crawled into the tent for the night and settled on his bedroll, but he propped himself up on his elbow instead of reading, idly fingering the edges of the thick hardback cover as he cast a skeptical eye in Iggy and Laura's direction.

It sure as hell looked romantic with the two of them sitting alone by the fire, the orange glow and flickering shadows lighting up the small smiles on their faces as they held hands and made comments about whatever they were reading together. No way was this all business. It couldn't be.

Noct dove headfirst into his pillow and wrapped his arms tightly around it. "Kinda weird, seeing Specs touching someone like that," he sighed into the fabric.

"More than kinda," Prompto agreed. "I always thought he was a germaphobe or something . . . not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just . . . you know—the cleaning, and since we've been out here, the gloves."

Three pairs of eyes shot in their direction when Iggy suddenly threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh.

 _What the fuck?_ When was the last time he'd heard Iggy laugh like that? Had he _ever_? Gladio had been trying for years to wrangle a laugh from the robot and had barely managed an occasional half-smile or soft chuckle. What could she have possibly said to him?

It seemed that the world immediately recovered, tilting back on its axis as Iggy dropped his gaze to his lap, and they all clearly heard him mumble, "Apologies."

But it looked like Laura was soaking it up. She shook her head up at him, her eyes shining with mirth as she poked her tongue out to touch the top row of her teeth.

"It's cool they're making friends," Gladio muttered. "She's kinda weird, but really not so bad. Specially now that murder thing's dyin' down."

"I'll be happy when things get back to normal, though," Noct said, burying his head back into his pillow. "That's kinda freaking me out."

Prompto hesitated like he wanted to say something but seemed to decide against it. Gladio folded his hands behind his head and leaned back, staring at the dark tent fabric and trying to imagine what Altissia was gonna be like. As much as he enjoyed being out here in the wild hunting and camping, he kinda hoped they'd get there with enough time to spare to visit the Arena Galviano. He'd heard stories about some of the epic beast battles that had taken place there, and the idea of sittin' back on a private balcony with a beer sounded like a perfect way to waste an afternoon away.

Lost in his plans, Gladio didn't manage to fall asleep until after Iggy settled into his sleeping bag beside Prompto nearly an hour later.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

The relationship between the King, Crystal, and Ring have all been tweaked a bit, so concepts are not 100% canon.


	7. Chapter 7

"Peaches?" Takka repeated, his entire face compressing as he searched his memory for an answer to Ignis's query. "No . . . don't think so. Ain't never heard of 'em. And I'd know. Work with the farmers all the way out past Lestallum, ya see?"

Ignis sat back further on his stool, cupping the hot can of Ebony between both his hands and stifling his disappointment at the news. Seeing that Takka had several more patrons eager to put in their breakfast orders, he gave the proprietor a slight bow of his head. "I see. Please, don't let me keep you. Thank you for your time."

"No problem. You know, you city folk sure are politer than I expected."

The slightest stirring of indignation ruffled him somewhat, but he ducked his head and ignored the comment, allowing Takka to return to his work as he enjoyed what was left of his free time this morning. While Cindy was putting the finishing touches on the Regalia, they had all gone their separate ways, either exploring the tiny town of Hammerhead—which they'd learned was called such because it had grown up around the garage that His Majesty himself had titled after a nickname for Cid, a sore point for the aged mechanic—gathering more information from the locals, or in Ignis's case, spending a rare moment alone. Although he'd enjoyed the company and growing sense of camaraderie with the other four this past week, he believed he would always need at least some time each day spent in silence and solitude to feel completely himself. He found it a difficult feat to feel isolated this morning, however, with the chatter of dozens of patrons and the radio blaring a terribly repetitive song of the sort these outlanders preferred. He decided to give up any concept of alone time when Gladio stepped over the stool next to him and plopped down with a sigh.

"We gotta talk."

"Regarding?" Though he believed he already knew the answer.

"Noct." He sighed again, and Ignis suppressed the desire to do the same. "You gotta quit babyin' him. He's havin' the time of his life out here."

"Which is precisely what concerns me. I'm all for taking this opportunity to allow him to grow, but I also believe we should exercise at least a modicum of caution. You are his Shield, Gladio—"

"You're right, which means I know full-well what the duties entail, and they include helping to raise a king I'm proud to protect."

"And you think I don't share the same responsibility?"

"It's not your job to protect him; it's mine," he shot back, his voice growing rougher with frustration, but his volume remained low—for the moment.

Still, given that they'd had this discussion several times before and they both knew where it was headed, Ignis thought it wise to end this conversation before tempers flared and they attracted attention. He remained silent, the retort that he'd been trained in far more than Gladio could possibly realize hanging heavy on his tongue as it always did. If anyone should realize the necessity to be somewhat sheltered—within reason—and happy when one's entire life would soon be dedicated in service to the kingdom, it should have been Gladio. The three of them had been born into lives and positions they could never call their own, after all. The least they could do was allow the child to live a little before his future overtook them all, Ignis agreed, but not at the cost of everything they'd worked so hard to protect him from all these years.

Gladio seemed to recognize the capitulation, as well as the reason for it, and relaxed his posture somewhat reluctantly.

"Looks like Noct isn't the only one havin' the time of his life out here."

Ignis took another sip of his Ebony and nodded. "Indeed. I've noticed you seem to be enjoying your time outdoors, and Prompto is regarding this entire trip as a stag holiday of sorts."

"Yeah, and _I_ noticed you and Laura are gettin' along pretty good," he said suggestively.

Ignis shot him a look from the side of his eye to see him waggling his eyebrows. He looked down at his Ebony again.

"I advise you not go looking for drama where none exists. She is . . . an enigma. Nothing more."

Which wasn't precisely true. Laura was . . . he wasn't certain. What would one call a person one was friendly with but knew essentially nothing about? She was a rare, strange creature that technically neither wanted nor needed anything from him—a scenario he was most unaccustomed to. For the most part, the people he associated himself with these days were friendly enough, but the relationship always seemed to go in one direction—always take, never give; always learn, never teach—not that he terribly minded. Yet even when Laura used him to align herself, it had been a voluntary and unnecessary action on his behalf—more as a favor in repayment of all she had shown and done for him since they'd left the city.

More and more, he was finding that he enjoyed spending time with her, either in quiet companionship as they went about their chores or in polite conversation as they explored their new world together. But he hadn't forgotten his duty. Each word that issued from her lips was collected, weighed, and measured, and the more data Ignis had gathered, the more muddied the final picture of who this girl really was became.

"Uh huh," Gladio grunted doubtfully.

"Honestly—"

But they both grew still when the song from the radio at the end of the counter _finally_ reached its conclusion, and the announcer declared that His Majesty King Regis had addressed the kingdom on the matter of the peace treaty the previous afternoon. Ignis stared down the curve of the counter, past the various plates laden with patrons' breakfasts to where the radio sat as the familiar, comforting voice of his king issued from the speakers, full of strength, authority, and reassurance.

" _Some among you may regard this term of peace with apprehension," King Regis said calmly. "You may wonder if your king has forsaken his people, when it is for their very sake I have acted. The lands of Leide, Duscae, and Cleigne shall be ceded to imperial governance, granting us assurance that the people of these regions will be spared further bloodshed on account of this war._ "

"Like hell!" cried out a voice from one of the booths in the back corner.

"Load of chocobo turds!" a woman agreed.

" _Life will go on, and all will continue to know liberty and prosperity._ "

"You mean INSOMNIA will know liberty and prosperity!"

Ignis shot Gladio a concerned look as a collective "boo" rose from the diner patrons.

"We better get goin'," Gladio said under his breath.

Doing their best to appear unrushed, they both stood from their stools and made their way toward the door. Before they were out of earshot of the radio, Ignis heard the parting words of the newscaster over the continued objections of the patrons:

" _An appeal for understanding and support from His Majesty ahead of the signing ceremony. While there is no denying that the impending treaty has been met with a modicum of resistance in the outlands, on the whole, the Lucian populace welcomes the coming peace."_

"Least there still is a treaty. Can't believe they haven't set a date yet," Gladio muttered as they picked up the pace toward the garage. It seemed as though Cindy had finished her work, for the garage door was standing wide open, the indigo-black Regalia gleaming in the already oppressive morning sun out front. Prompto, Noct, and Laura had noticed the appearance of their ride and were circling the car, admiring the glittering chrome wheels and shining paint.

"It's comforting to hear, I agree," Ignis replied. "Only I hadn't realized the extent of this growing resentment and what it would mean for our trip. Loath though I am to rush this, we should continue straight to Galdin should the atmosphere prove this unsettled in Longwythe."

"Agreed."

As they drew closer, they heard Cindy answering a question Noct had asked about his father's car.

"Still, in every rumor, there's a grain o' truth. After all, when it comes to cars, Crown City folk know their biznis. It's a right shame they put up the Wall thirty years ago."

"You mean when they stopped allowing outsiders to enter the city?" Laura asked.

"Yep. Lotta goods became the stuff of legend, includin' the wax I used on this baby. Sorry 'bout the wait. Ain't she purdy, though?"

"She's almost too pretty for the road," Gladio agreed, folding his arms and tossing Cindy a sly grin.

"We should all get a picture with her!" Prompto exclaimed.

As Prompto handed the camera off to Cindy and showed her how to work the Crown-City-made device, Ignis went over to stand by the driver's side door, crossed his arms, and leaned casually against the front panel.

There was something weighted about this moment that Ignis couldn't quite identify—as though they had reached both the beginning and the end of something monumental. Already, they'd grown so much in their time away from the Citadel. They were well on their way to becoming a deadly, cohesive combat unit. They had paid fairly for a service they needed and regained financial independence with no help from any Crown connections. Though he was desperate for a steaming hot shower and a fragrant bar of soap, he was proud of the five of them for having spent the last week on their own in the wild. He would be most grateful for the luxurious accommodations at Galdin Quay before they boarded the ferry to Altissia so he could relax, perhaps even soak in a tub, but a small part of him would miss the time they'd spent bonding over the campfire and tracking game.

"You boys smile now, ya hear?" Cindy called out before she pressed the shutter. As she leaned in to hand the camera back to Prompto, she added, "So if y'all wouldn't mind stoppin' at the motel on yer way to Galdin, I already put those parts in the trunk for the owner there."

"Yeah," Noct sighed wearily as he opened the door to the back seat. "Pretty sure one of us would do anything for you."

"I'll have to keep that in mind!" she laughed.

Before Laura slid into the middle seat, she flashed Cindy a wide smile. "Feel free to text those schematics to one of the guys, and I'll take a look. Thanks for getting us back on the road, Cindy."

"Yes, you have our sincerest gratitude," Ignis added as he closed the driver side door behind him. "And do thank Master Cid for us, as well."

"Will do!" she said with a wave as they pulled away.

The promise of the open road ahead of them once again lifted Ignis's spirits as he turned left out of Hammerhead for the last time, begging him to add weight to his foot on the gas pedal, but he refrained. Though Cid and Cindy had no doubt restored the Regalia to top operating condition, it would do them little good to get themselves stranded halfway to Galdin without another garage between here and there to repair her.

"Never thought about how people viewed the Crown City from the outside," Noct said thoughtfully.

"Neither have I," Prompto said, "but she said it's the place where legends were made. Can you believe it? The stuff we use every day!"

"And goods produced in the purlieus have yet to match that caliber, even from thirty years ago," Ignis said. "The Crown City must seem like a futuristic paradise in comparison. Imagine—only thirty years it took for the entire remainder of the continent to stagnate to this point."

"Many aspects of civilization are lost when survival becomes the main goal," Laura said sadly. "Between the daemons attacking and the Starscourge making people disappear, it becomes all they can do just to feed themselves."

"It's a good thing Cindy's helpin' everyone out like this," Prompto said dreamily. "Seriously she's like, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, like, a real-life goddess!"

The answering tone in Noct's voice told Ignis that he was likely already leaning against the window with his eyes closed. "Yeah, well, now you got that picture of her, you can pay your respects to the 'Grease Monkey Goddess' as much as you want," he mumbled.

"Just be sure to keep both hands in sight while paying your respects, please," Laura muttered.

"Hey! It's totally not like that! I'm not like . . . creeping on her or anything!" Prompto protested over Gladio's bark of laughter. "She's too good for that. I'll sure miss seeing her once this road trip's over with."

"There's no reason you can't pay her a visit any time you please," Gladio said. "I'm sure Cindy'll be glad to look after your car." He paused for several moments for dramatic effect. ". . . Oh, right."

"Not funny," Prompto mumbled.

"If you need, I can always lend you the Regalia," Noct said.

Ignis breathed in, preparing to inform the two of them that the likelihood of being allowed to leave the city when they returned would be low until it was time for Noct's Bonding of Souls tour, but the words died on his lips before he'd opened them.

Let them dream.

"Whoa!" Prompto exclaimed, and Ignis looked up at the rearview mirror to catch the corner of his hopeful grin and flush of excitement spreading across his left cheek. "I—uh—thanks for the offer, but once we're back in the Crown City, I think I'd better score my own wheels."

"Suit yourself, but you're gonna need a better job than 'clerk' to afford one," Noct reminded him. "And it's not like there's a lotta room to move up at a comic book store."

"I know," Prompto sighed. "I was thinkin' I could up my game on this trip, maybe make some extra money on the side doing wedding photography and stuff when I get back."

"Specially if you advertise yourself as the official royal wedding photographer."

"Really? Me? The _official_ photographer?"

"Sure, why not? There's gotta be _some_ benefit to being the Prince."

"Oh em gee! Now I totally gotta document _everything_."

"Well, now you've been given royal permission," Ignis chuckled softly, his eyes not leaving the road ahead. He wasn't entirely certain how far out the junction to Galdin was, but he believed he recalled that it wasn't far the day they'd pushed the car to Hammerhead. He certainly didn't want to miss the turn and wind up at the entrance to the Insomnian ramparts.

"Hey, what about you guys?" Prompto asked. "You had to've wanted to be something else at some point. Gimme some ideas!"

"I just wanted to fish," Noct answered immediately. "TV, the latest game, a lake or somethin', and a pole."

"Dude. That's cool and all, but that's no help," he whined. "What about you, Gladio?"

"Ha! No help here, either. Always was gonna be a Shield, but I wanted it. Becomin' a Hunter'd be pretty cool, though. Camping out here in the open, livin' off the land. Maybe even growin' stuff."

"Yeah, I can't be a Hunter or a Shield in the Crown City."

Ignis raised an eyebrow when he felt several taps on his right shoulder just as he'd spotted the junction for Galdin in the distance. Turning his head slightly, he saw Prompto leaning over Laura's lap to push his torso eagerly between the seats.

"Please fasten your seatbelt," he said gently.

"Oh yeah, sure thing, Iggy," Prompto replied, sitting back in his seat. "But what about you? You weren't always gonna be a . . . whatever you are, right? You remember what you wanted to be growing up?"

"My childhood aspirations?" he asked in surprise. He hadn't expected to be included in this soul-searching conversation and thus hadn't prepared an answer. "Hmm . . .."

Contrary to Prompto's belief, Ignis had been destined to become . . . whatever he was at three years old when his uncle had brought him to the Citadel for his specialized training. A chamberlain, a senior advisor, a future Prime Minister—there existed no one title for what, exactly, he was and what he was destined to become. The schedule for him assuming his duties had been accelerated with the sudden death of Queen Aulea, leading to his becoming the Prince's companion, advisor, and guardian at six years old. As such, his aspirations hadn't centered around dreams of possible futures so much as a ceaseless desire to succeed, to become _more_ , despite any obstacles that lay ahead of him. Perhaps, if he concentrated, he could recall the occasional fleeting fantasy, but nothing concrete, for there was little point to dream of what could never be. But certainly, this couldn't be a suitable answer for what Prompto—

"Y'uhh . . . no need to go into depth," Prompto said before he could begin to formulate a response. "Really."

Somewhat relieved, he allowed the matter to pass. But for all their time spent out in the Weaverwilds together this past week, not nearly as much had changed as Ignis had previously thought, because the car grew awkwardly silent for a moment, and he found himself counting out the heavy seconds passing them by before he relented and addressed the source of the quiet directly.

"Laura?" he asked politely, looking up to meet her eyes briefly in the mirror.

She, likewise, seemed to be surprised at being consulted. "Me? Oh . . . I hadn't thought about it in lifetimes. Um . . . a pop star, believe it or not."

Actually, he didn't believe it. Had it only been a week ago he'd considered her an overly-sheltered Insomnian noblewoman? A pop star seemed such a thoroughly ordinary answer, considering who she had become instead, but then, he supposed that all little girls had their dreams.

"You mean like a singer? You can sing?" Prompto asked.

"Not well enough to be a pop star," she said with a snort. "I do all right otherwise."

The only warning Ignis received was the click of a seatbelt before Prompto's entire body was shoved between his and Gladio's.

"Hey, tryin' to read, here!" Gladio growled, giving Prompto a little shove toward Ignis.

"More importantly, I'd prefer to drive without being driven round the bend, thank you," Ignis added with a huff as he gripped the steering wheel more tightly with both hands.

"I wanna hear her!" Prompto exclaimed, fiddling with the dials on the dash. He flipped rapidly through several radio stations, and Ignis was about maneuver him back into his seat as though he were an over-eager toddler when he settled on a heavy metal song and threw himself into his seat again.

"This one!"

"Um . . .," Laura said hesitantly.

"Not exactly a good one to sing to," Gladio muttered.

"What're you talkin' about?!" Ignis chanced a brief glimpse back to see Prompto raising both hands into the wind and closing his eyes. "You're loco if you think you're gonna hide this chocobo. Everybody's gonna wanna ride your chocobo!"

"I'm . . . afraid I don't know this one," Laura said, but Prompto was no longer listening. "Chocobo? Sounds like a sort of candy bar."

"It's choco-loco style in a choco-rodeo. Gonna ride him straight through hell in this chocobo rodeo! Yeah, let's ride!"

"Just be happy it's the radio, so he can't put it on repeat like King Regis used to," Gladio chuckled, not looking up from his book as the song came to an abrupt end. He leaned forward to turn the volume of the next song down to a more tolerable level. "This is just like my father's stories about the big road trip."

"Even the car's the same," Noct said sleepily.

"Think the King and his men knew how to party like we do?" Prompto asked.

"Hard to imagine," Ignis said. "It's always so much _fun_."

"And don't forget they were in the middle of a war. Not my kind of party," Gladio said.

Prompto's tone grew more subdued. "Yeah, war'll put a damper on things."

"Was this still part of the war with Niflheim?" Laura asked.

"Yeah," Noct said. "My dad used to tell me bedtime stories about it. Thirty years ago, he, Cid, Gladio's dad, Cor, and some guy called Weskham headed out to Accordo to try and re-establish an alliance with them."

"They were overwhelmed, however, by the Empire's new Magitek soldiers and were forced to return home," Ignis continued. "And when the Wall was damaged, King Mors had but one choice to save Insomnia, which was to scale it back to the city's ramparts."

"They all came back alive though, didn't they? That's a victory if you ask me," Prompto said. "And sounds like some stories to tell!"

"They saw some pretty rough stuff, but they had the time of their lives on the road. My dad never would've set this up otherwise."

Prompto slapped both his hands on the shoulders of Gladio's seat. "So they DID know how to party!"

"Which is why it's important to document everything," Ignis said. "I'm certain His Majesty will be eager to see evidence of his son following in his auspicious footsteps."

"I dunno," Noct mumbled. "Probably not."

"Well, not much to get now, anyway. Already got a bunch of this area, and it kinda all looks the same," Prompto said. Ignis had to agree. Accustomed as he was to driving for short periods of time in the city, this wide-open landscape, though breathtaking, had a tendency to wear on his eyes after so long behind the wheel, especially with the too-bright Leiden sun reflecting off the tawny sand and grass.

He noticed that Gladio's attention would often drift from his book as they passed by rusted-out vehicles laid to rest along the boulder-strewn road, and Ignis, too, would wonder what circumstances had led to so many cars being left to rot when the population was clearly suffering for all the technological advances they could get. For a brief span as they drove past two cliffs forming a window to the western horizon, he spotted some rather remarkable arch formations in the distance, which were too long and spindly to have been formed naturally. He wondered if they were the famed arches appearing along the edges of the Disc of Cauthess. To his disappointment, it didn't appear as though they would be drawing any closer to them on the course of their journey. _Oh_ , but he'd always wanted to see with his own eyes the great meteor of legend, said to have fallen to the planet during the War of the Astrals and caught by the Archaean himself. Perhaps they would have an opportunity to see it during Noct's Bonding of Souls tour. As the locations of the tombs of the Old Kings were kept secret by the reigning monarch and their retinue, Ignis wasn't certain whether a tomb lay in that area or not.

For now, he could only dream, as the tour would be their absolute final chance to leave the city—likely for the rest of their lives.

They had just passed yet another abandoned, weather-burned barn when he heard Prompto from behind him. "Hey, Laura, since we're sitting here anyway, you wanna work on that energy thing?"

Ignis chanced a glance in the rearview mirror, but Noct seemed to have been waiting for such a reaction, as their eyes met briefly before Ignis turned his attention back to the road.

Strange as it had been to hold her hand every evening—uncomfortable, even, in front of the others—he'd rather come to enjoy their time together studying the flora and fauna to be found in the area. He'd come to look forward to those quiet hours in front of the campfire, breathing in that now familiar scent of hers and attempting to come up with witty remarks to the reading material just to make her laugh.

But those evenings were fast coming to an end as she came closer to fully aligning herself—even faster, it would seem, as he heard Laura's reply to Prompto. "If it's not too much trouble. You waited too long to tell me last time."

"Naw, it's no trouble at all! Won't catch me complaining about holding a girl's hand!"

So, they were holding hands today, were they? He let his eyes flick briefly up one last time to see that Laura was leaning heavily into Prompto's side, and it did appear as though their shoulders were aligned so that they were likely holding hands . . . in his lap. Did it appear quite so intimate to the others when she and Ignis had worked together on the issue? They almost looked to be courting.

"Oh yeah! This is so much better than last time!"

He hated himself for stirring of moodiness that brushed over his skin at the thought of them cozying up to one another back there. She had been honest from the very beginning as to the business-like nature of their work, even if Ignis hadn't entirely, and he could hardly fault her if he had merely been a tool for meeting her goal. He brushed the ugly emotion aside, determined not to allow his offense to cloud his judgment. He would see for himself how much she valued her free time with him when she had completed her transition and no longer required assistance.

"So how long will we be staying in Longwythe?" Laura asked.

"I thought we might spend the night, perhaps explore the settlement, take the opportunity to clean up, and see if there are any bounties available in the area," Ignis answered. "Though that depends on the state of things when we arrive. Tensions were running rather high when we left Hammerhead."

"I'm in no rush," Noct said with a yawn.

"Sounds like someone's about to 'time travel,'" Gladio chuckled.

"Time travel?" Laura asked.

"His hilarious code for falling asleep in the car, cause the time goes by faster," Noct mumbled. "Great for traffic jams at home."

"If only such a tactic worked for us all," Ignis said. "Get some rest, Highness, and we'll arrive before you know it."

"Wouldn't have to sleep if _someone_ didn't have us up at the butt crack of dawn every morning," Noct grumbled before going silent.

Ignis slouched deeper into the seat and leaned his elbow against the door, looking forward to everyone settling in for the long drive ahead so he could allow his mind to wander over the wild Leiden landscape and the luxuries that awaited them at Galdin.

* * *

It hadn't taken long at all for them to find the manager of the dilapidated motel Cindy wanted them to make the delivery to, and after a quick chat, they all agreed to separate after a long morning together in the car to explore the town on their own as they had in Hammerhead. Ignis appreciated finally being able to enjoy the quiet as he strolled the cracked sidewalks and breathed in the fresh, toasted air. Longwythe, as it turned out, was even smaller than Hammerhead had been, with so few shops and amenities that Ignis wondered how it was possible the locals were able to eke a life out here in the middle of nowhere. Filthy and run-down though it was, there was, at least, the motel, which guaranteed them running hot water and a mattress or two—he hoped.

After a week in Hammerhead, the novelty of such places had already lost their charm for Ignis. But there was one advantage to spending the day in this dull and primitive settlement—they were even less likely to be recognized by the fifty or so people wandering around the main street than they had been in Hammerhead, which was fortunate, as it didn't appear that Insomnians' reputation was any more favorably looked upon here.

"Isn't there supposed to be a quarry around here?" asked a man as he and his conversation partner passed by the diner window, whose advertisements Ignis was perusing.

"Not anymore. It's a shame, though: they say it was a virtual mineral motherlode. Insomnia's skyline was single-handedly built on the backs of this town, but the money dried up when the daemons took over. This place once teemed with people, until the mines went under, and Regis abandoned all of it."

"Ah, the Balouve Mines. Is it really as bad as they say it is?"

"Yeah, it is. All the miners done disappeared. They say it's the Starscourge. And when the daemons took over . . . the minerals got corrupted somehow. Can't even mine there anymore."

"Damn king should've done something—sent some money, at least. Not like he's payin' enough for the oil and gas he's usin' up in that city of his. Could've begged the Oracle to come out here and heal the people before they disappeared, too. Not too proud to do it for his son."

"If they aren't careful, this place is liable to wind up like Keycatrich."

"Wealthiest city in the outlands—nothin' but daemons now. You been up that way lately?"

"What for? You said yourself there's nothin' up there anymore but daemons. I ain't interested in dying, thanks."

Though it troubled him to discover more evidence of the people of Lucis suffering due to neglect, Ignis also found it frustrating that these people were laying their burdens on a higher authority instead of taking charge of their own futures. Had it truly only been the Wall that allowed Insomnia to prosper? Arid and barren though this region was, it was still rich in resources, which if collected, could earn their little town a decent enough living to clean up the buildings, at the very least. And the people had the Hunters to protect them from daemons, did they not? Why must everything be the King's responsibility to fix for them when his life's energy was being drained to save what he could?

A half an hour's stroll, and he believed he had seen all there was to see of the little town, and that included reading all the faded billboard advertisements, taking a look at the menu at the local Crow's Nest franchise, speaking to the proprietor, and picking up all the bounty assignments they were capable of handling. There were a few items of interest at the market truck parked just outside, so he indulged himself in a little shopping. The likelihood of them encountering Cleigne wheat on their way to Galdin was low, indeed, and the region was said to be famous for it. He wondered if it was the variety Laura used in her bread.

"THANK YOU!"

Ignis flinched and took a small retreating step at the girl's unexpected, overenthusiastic gratitude. With a slight bow of his head, he said, "Thank _you_. I don't believe I've ever encountered sheep's milk fresher than this."

"Thanks! I drive it in from Swainsmere myself every morning!"

"You're from Duscae, then? Tell me, might you have encountered a fruit called a peach?"

The girl frowned. "I'm so sorry! I've never heard of that."

"It's no matter," he replied, taking a retreating step as he prepared to leave. "I thank you for your time."

"You're welcome! BYE NOW!"

As he took another step back, one of his sahagin-skin dress heels bumped against someone standing behind him. "Pardon me," he began as he turned, but Prompto came into his view and grabbed his elbow, leaning in close.

"Dude, she's cute. What's her name?" he whispered.

"It's Penelope," Laura answered softly from his other side.

"Penelope?" Prompto asked, a slow grin spreading over his face. "Think I'm gonna do me some shoppin'." With a confident swagger but a quivering chuckle, he headed toward the back of the truck serving as the display for Penelope's wares.

Ignis turned to Laura as she watched Prompto's attempt at flirting and examined her closely, trying to glean any information he could from the outfit she had changed into. Though they had all packed civilian clothes for this journey, this was the first time he'd seen any of them wear anything beyond their uniforms, and he wondered at the reason for the change. The khaki-colored pleated peasant blouse that fell off her shoulders was made of an oddly rough material, and the sculpted corset cinched around her waist appeared scarred and worn. Paired with loose-fitting trousers and heavy brown work boots, she appeared to be prepared for a day of stylishly-done hard labor.

"You know, I probably have a few peaches I can give you if you're that keen."

"Thank you, but no. The thrill of the chase is half the fun, after all. I'm certain they'll turn up eventually," he said jovially, thinking of Noct's pastries. "Have you found anything diverting to do this morning? I see you've already managed to introduce yourself to the locals."

Laura looked up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes that inexplicably sent a shiver of dread and anticipation through him. "Oh yeah. Wanna do some sightseeing with me?"

Believing himself to be giving a witty response, he allowed his gaze to pass over the scene behind her and said sardonically, "I believe I've already seen all there is to see." However, it was only as the words left his lips that he realized his response could be taken as a refusal of her company, and he hastily added, "Though I would be most interested to see what your insight would add to the experience that is Longwythe."

He looked down when he felt her fingers entwine with his and attempt to tug him off. "Well then, allons-y!"

"Just a moment," he chuckled, turning away to catch Prompto's attention. "Prompto, if you wouldn't mind reminding Noct and Gladio to meet us by the Regalia at three o'clock to begin the hunts? I sent them a text, but neither has answered."

"Indubitably!" Prompto replied in a faux royal dialect.

Ignis let out a sigh, but he couldn't maintain his exasperation for long with Laura waiting on him. When he met up with her on diner's stoop, however, he was bewildered to find that her entire demeanor had changed in the split second he'd been gone, her expression having grown concerned and wary.

"What's wrong?"

"How many hunts did you take?"

He bristled somewhat at the harsh brittleness of her tone but answered, "As many as were available at our level of skill."

Her words grew slow, carefully enunciated. "Do you intend to complete them all?"

"You gave your word you wouldn't interfere with our hunting the wildlife," he stated, infusing his own tone with a fine layer of frost. "Besides, two of the hunts are daemons. I thought you'd be pleased."

She wilted somewhat as she sighed wearily. He was well-familiar with that particular expression of disappointment, as it was the least antagonistic method of communicating his own exasperation, but he wasn't accustomed to being on the receiving end of disappointment—not since he was a child. Had he missed something again? As he reviewed the conversation, he realized he had made an assumption that might not have been valid.

"It's not the animals you're concerned about, is it?"

She grew somber as she reached out to take his elbow and lead him behind the diner. "Perhaps you'll understand by the time we meet up with the others. Will you come with me?"

"Of course."

Though not exactly poor, Ignis led a small, simple life in the Crown City, which meant that he lived in a less than affluent district and had seen his fair share of poverty. But as he stepped beyond the Crow's Nest's fence line and toward the craggy Longwythe Peak looming over them in the distance, he discovered he'd never encountered anything quite like this.

As Laura led him past several rusty tanks, through a wall of haggard-looking bushes, and past a row of overflowing trashcans, he realized that she'd brought him to a residential area, which he'd skipped over on his first tour of the town. Unlike Insomnia, space and the price of real estate shouldn't have mattered in the slightest on these wide-open plains, and he was puzzled for nearly a block as he observed that each house was nearly identical—a simple, small rectangle located nearly on top of its neighbor just as it would have in a massive city. He was about to ask Laura for her opinion on why they hadn't built the dwellings so that each had at least the smallest of gardens when he looked up and noticed the grid of streetlamps hovering close to the roofs, as though the houses had all huddled together in fear of the dark.

Fear of the dark.

"Might I ask where we're headed?" he asked.

"The winds from last month's sandstorms blew off much of Mr. Slater's roof. He sent word around town this morning he's looking for a crew of volunteers."

"Volunteers?"

She halted abruptly and turned to face him. "Things are very different out here than in the city," she said patiently. "Rather than every man seeking to improve his own standing, the community can only survive if they band together to help one another."

"I'm willing to help, of course," he responded immediately, then hesitated, ". . . though I'm afraid I don't know much at all about construction. I'm willing to learn—whatever is required."

He was pleased to see her face soften into a smile at his eagerness. "And I'm willing to teach you. Come on." She led him down another oppressively narrow street toward a faded blue shack with a crowd of about twenty men, women, and children milling about the surrounding houses.

"Might I ask you a question?"

"I may not be able to answer, but I will if I can," she said without looking in his direction.

He paused, somewhat surprised that she had openly admitted to not being entirely candid with her every response, though he'd suspected as much for all her evasiveness thus far. It hadn't escaped his notice, all those evening by the campfire, that for all that their interest in each other's lives had been mutual, the sharing had come predominantly from his side.

He chose to word his question broadly that she might offer up _something_ more of herself.

"How is it that you know so much about such a variety of subjects?"

It was a probe into her past—they both knew it, but it had deliberately been phrased so that she could brush aside his query should it prove to be too invasive. Though he couldn't see her face, following behind her as he was, he could tell that she was considering her words carefully as she responded.

"I've . . . traveled some. The thing is—you can't just read the guidebook. You've got to throw yourself in. Eat the food, use the wrong verbs, get charged double, and end up kissing complete strangers. You have to talk to the little people—the ones that don't matter to anyone. You never know what you'll learn until you do."

"City folk!" an older gentleman cried out from up ahead, pointing to the two of them from his lawn chair on the front corner of the blue house. The four children clambering at his knees turned to give them wide-eyed stares before scurrying off in different directions. "Y'all git turned around? I kin send someone to git ya back to the main road."

"No, we're here for you, Mr. Slater," Laura answered. "Penelope sent us to help with your roof. I'm Laura, and this is Ignis."

"Typical," he snorted. "Always showin' up after the hard part's done. Well, git on up there then. They're finishin' up the flashing right now." Drawing a skeptical eye from Ignis's shoes to his hair, Mr. Slater gave a "hmph" that reminded him strongly of Cid. "Least ya got _some_ meat on your bones, boy, cause the meal ain't gonna be ready for a coupla hours."

"I can be of some assistance there as well, should you require it."

"Ha! Both me and my daddy spint our lives an' our backs buildin' up that city of yers. 'Bout time one of yeh returned the favor. Now, git on up there and leave the cookin' to the wife!"

As Laura led him through the throng of loitering people and around to the opposite side of the little house, where a rickety ladder was leaning against the edge of the roof, he asked under his breath, "Is that all? He didn't even ask after our credentials."

"He assumes you know what you're doing. Everyone else in the community does."

"And he doesn't pay any of these people for their services?" He eyed the collection of townsfolk dashing between the houses, trading instructions and what looked like plastic containers of food, and children chasing dogs and each other with brandished sticks. It appeared as though no one on the ground, at least, were involved in the project, and yet they seemed to be a part of it in a detached way he couldn't define.

"He'll pay in his own way," she answered as she started up the ladder. "Besides lunch for all of us, he has three sons he'll lend out to help when the others need it."

"You and Miss Penelope must've had quite the chat."

Once they'd reached the top and introduced themselves to the six other men—far too many for such a small roof, in Ignis's opinion—Laura set about giving him a lesson in roof replacement. She explained the process of what had already been done—how what was left of the old roof had been ripped off and the frame, roofing paper, and molding replaced—before explaining how to follow the chalk lines and layer the shingles so that they met perfectly with the others working on different sections. The work itself was simple, if a bit monotonous and uncomfortable due to the heat, so he remained quiet and listened to the crew chatter on about their lives, with Laura joining in as though she, too, had lived in Longwythe for decades.

Though he'd been raised a courtier and a diplomat, Ignis had always struggled somewhat when it came to fitting in with a group of people. In formal settings at the Citadel, he excelled at reflecting the perfect image of regality and hospitality, but at informal gatherings, he knew that many found his mannerisms too stiff, even bordering on snobbish, though he never intended to come off as such. Any attempts he'd made at the vernacular accent or a more casual manner had always felt false to him, so he'd long ago given up the practice.

Which was why he found himself admiring Laura as she bantered easily with these people she couldn't have had anything in common with. She'd even gone so far as to change her accent again to put them more at ease. Yet there was nothing false about her manner—she was the same woman there on that roof as she had been for the past week—kind, friendly, and curious. But he found himself wondering which girl was the true representation—the noble warrior or the untamed country girl. She seemed to know too much of both spheres to be either.

"Sawyer's gonna be spittin' nails for a week he couldn't make it today. You know how much he loves Maribelle's chitterling sausage? And the marrow bones! Gonna give 'im hell for missin' those."

"Ah, it sounds as though we're in store for an offal feast this afternoon," Ignis said good-naturedly. "Sounds awfully tempting."

"Maribelle's the best at nose-to-tail cookin'. You're in fer a treat," the man named Lee answered before turning to the younger man named Davis working further down the roof's slant. "Take it easy on yer brother and save 'im some. Ain't his fault he ain't here."

"I saw someone preppin' fried chickatrice feet before comin' up 'ere. Can't wait! Where is Sawyer though?" Laura asked.

"Got a wife and two kids, don't he? Can't afford to do this kinda thing when a hunt comes down the pike that pays in gil."

"New bounties came in?" a third man asked. "Haven't seen decent ones since those Hunters in Lestallum blew through and cleaned us out."

"Yeah, he's out gettin' the ones he can handle by himself so he don't haveta split the bounty." Davis's dark eyes grew darker. "But he n' the boys are gonna head out to the Callaegh Steps tonight."

"They're gonna take on the mines?! They crazy?"

Ignis slowed in his work to listen, his interest piqued. He had seen that very hunt available in the book of wanted posters the diner proprietor had shown him this morning and had intended for them to handle it this evening. The assignment hadn't seemed unduly challenging, but the way everyone went quiet at the news suggested otherwise.

"He ever get the chance to head up to Hammerhead to fix his ax?" Lee asked gravely.

"Can't afford it. And he ain't gonna ask Cid for charity work."

"Shit."

As Ignis pulled his handkerchief out of the jacket he'd left discarded next to him to wipe the sweat from his brow, he found Laura's eyes watching him, filled with a deep knowing. He met her gaze for a moment before her attention flicked toward the men speaking.

And he understood.

The five of them didn't belong in this world; as such, they created a wake wherever they appeared. The Hunters might have been more experienced in practical combat settings, but they were poor. They hadn't received the rigorous training of the Crownsguard. They didn't have access to the best weapons. They couldn't wield the King's magic. And by taking every lower-level bounty in the area, their retinue was crippling the local economy, as there didn't seem to be many opportunities to make a living out here. He would have to be more careful about such things in the future, and not only because news of bounty hunters from the city cleaning out all available hunts was sure to make for juicy gossip. Certainly, their group had progressed enough to leave the easier hunts to the locals. As long as he was careful to take their skill level into account, they could relieve the community of dangerous creatures without gutting the economy and still support themselves as they made their way to Altissia.

"I apologize . . . for assuming the worst of you earlier," he said softly so the others wouldn't overhear.

"Don't worry about it," she said dismissively, waving a hand in the air. "But you can't make assumptions based on the world you know. That world doesn't exist out here."

"Indeed," Ignis replied, eyeing her significantly. He certainly wouldn't be making a single assumption regarding _her_ ever again, as often as he seemed to be wrong.

"Now. Don't think I didn't notice your hesitation in the car earlier this morning, but Prompto cut you off. Please. Won't you tell me of your childhood aspirations?"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Gladio's "woke" attitude regarding people outside the Crown City is not canon. In fact, I had to give the "Neither have I" line to Prompto from Gladio in this chapter. Gladio's experience with the Glaive is also a non-canon aspect to his character I have added.

King Regis telling bedtime stories to Noct about the war is taken from A King's Tale.

The very sad "childhood aspirations" conversation really does take place as field chatter, but it's a difficult one to get, it would seem. Thank you to Nightyswolf for sending me a clip of it!

Prompto's radio song is Crazy Chocobo, from the FFXIII-2 soundtrack.

The story of Longwythe and the mines is canon, pulled from the datalog entries, though the rest of the world building is my own creation there.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:**

Warnings: Mild violence/ reference to injury, vomiting, really brief reference to suicidal thoughts.

* * *

With a deep sigh that fogged up the glass, Noct buried his face in his arms as he leaned against the back door of the Regalia, wishing he could be passed out in the back seat with the air conditioner running as they left this place far behind. Longwythe was hot and boring—even the diner was similar to the one in Hammerhead but not as good. They didn't even have his favorite Hammerhead Hot Sandwich here.

That didn't mean he was ready to get to Altissia though. He'd be glad to see Luna again, but he sure as hell wasn't in a hurry to get married and come back here to be put on the conveyor belt to becoming King. And despite Ignis being a pain in the ass, Laura acting as their official royal escort, and them not having any money, he had to admit he was kinda having fun.

Except for right now.

"It's 2:55. Where _are_ they?" he moaned into the glass. Seriously, Specs was always fifteen minutes early for everything, which meant he was now running ten minutes late, which also meant he'd made all the extra effort to be here for Ignis's version of on time for _nothing_. A prickle of worry shot through him at the thought of what could be causing the delay. "You think they're okay?"

"Take it easy," Gladio said. He leaned against the front of the car and crossed his arms. "We can send out the Kingsglaive and call in the Guard if they aren't here in five, but not before."

"Did either of you guys check out what we're doing today?" Prompto asked.

"No," Noct said, but he knew they'd be collecting bounties from Ignis's text. "Why?"

"I dunno . . . starting late like this. Think we're gonna fight daemons?"

"I hope so," Glado said, and Noct nodded in agreement. It'd be nice to change things up a little and do some hunting out of the sun, maybe even finally get to see Laura do some of the sword work she'd earned such a good reputation for.

But that wasn't the only reputation she was earning. Between the handholding with Ignis and Prompto on this trip and the rumors flying around the city about her and his dad, he was beginning to wonder what her deal was. Which was weirder, really—that she'd gotten cuddly with Ignis or his dad? No matter how many times he'd tried since meeting her, he just couldn't picture King Regis holding hands with a stranger in the throne room. He hadn't even held Noct's hand since . . . he couldn't remember when the last time was.

It was possible that was just how she was. Maybe he'd work up the nerve to ask her about it someday, but he sure as hell hoped she didn't try that with him.

A familiar, rhythmic clicking caught his attention, and he raised his head to spot a black and silver dog trotting toward him eagerly from across the motel parking lot, Ignis and Laura trailing behind at a distance.

"Umbra!" Noct greeted, crouching to rub behind the dog's ear with one hand and reaching for the journal he knew would be tucked in his sash.

He'd been confused when Luna had insisted he take the journal back to Lucis with him while he'd been visiting Tenebrae. But as a kid, he hadn't thought about how Tenebrae wasn't as modern as the rest of the world and didn't have cell phones—not that it would've mattered anyway with reception not reaching through the Wall. And since the Nifs had invaded, the landlines were sure to be tapped. It was almost like she'd known something was gonna happen, like she'd known she was gonna stay behind.

It seemed surreal that it would only be days before he got to talk to her in person for the first time since he was eight—and they'd be getting married. Did that make her his girlfriend now? That was a weird thought, even if he liked her a lot and always had since the first time they'd met. She'd always been so kind to him—quiet and accepting in a way that made him feel at ease. When she'd told him they'd be working together to rid the world of darkness, of course he couldn't refuse such an amazing girl, even if he really didn't know what he was promising at the time. He'd decided then and there that no matter what, he'd never let her down.

Then when they had and they'd left her behind, he swore he was gonna do his best to make it up to her—starting with the journal. He gave himself away piece by piece, trusting her not to judge him about his secrets and doubts, appreciating the way she'd always reassured him he could accomplish everything everyone expected him to. No one had ever expressed their undying faith in him like that—not Gladio, Ignis, and especially not his dad. And he felt comfortable talking to her; she didn't fawn over him like the girls in the city did and never once treated him like a prince.

Their marriage though was . . . whatever. The guys kept ragging on him about it—especially Gladio and Prompto.

"Lady Lunafreya doing all right?" Prompto asked.

He chose not to share her message that she was leaving Tenebrae and shrugged a shoulder half-heartedly. Still inspecting the colored oval artwork of a statue of a woman surrounded by sylleblossoms and greenery, looking for any kind of secret meaning behind the artwork, he said, "Probably. She pasted in a little nature stamp."

"A stamp?"

Ignis and Laura stepped up to join the other two standing over him and Umbra. "She's opted for simpler modes of communication to indulge our indolent prince."

"She usually sends pictures and flowers," he said a little defensively. It wasn't like she was writing novels or anything herself, but they did occasionally share more personal stuff he didn't want any of them to know about. "I send back stickers and stuff."

"Sounds like you two have some riveting conversations," Gladio muttered before turning to Ignis and Laura, tossing them a knowing grin as he eyed their dusty clothes and sweaty hair. "You're late . . . for you. You guys have fun? Prince Charming was about to send out the Guard to come and find you."

Ignis ran his hands up his bangs in an attempt to get them sticking back up. "It's 2:58," he said, raising his chin in defiance.

"Where've you guys been? Not like there's much to do here," Prompto said.

"Sampling the local cuisine," Ignis answered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "And I must say, it was a load of tripe."

"Sounds awful."

His smile grew to a grin. "Do you know? It was."

Whatever the joke was supposed to be, Noct didn't get it, as usual. "Okay, whatever," he mumbled, turning back to his notebook.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cactuar sticker he'd picked up from Hammerhead for this purpose and fixed it to the next page. Then he searched his other pockets, faster when he felt that they were all empty, until he heard a sigh from above him. A gold-colored tube appeared in his peripheral vision.

"Thanks, Specs," he said as he reached out for the pen.

"Pleasure, Highness. Do remember not to put pressure on the nib."

"Got it."

Careful to be gentle with Spec's precious pen while he was watching, Noct wrote out the disbelief that had been on his mind all day in his neatest script, _Finally going to see you after all these years._

"How many notebooks have you been through?" Prompto asked.

As he tucked the journal back into Umbra's sash, Ignis held out a hand until Noct deposited his pen into his waiting fingers.

"A lot?"

Gladio hauled himself upright off the car and leaned down to give Umbra a quick pat. "Impressed you actually stuck with something."

"There was that time he forgot it and freaked out," Prompto laughed.

Still crouched down on the pavement, Noct glared against the afternoon light up at Prompto. It hadn't been funny at all. By the time he'd collapsed on his couch after a long day, ready for an all-night horror film fest, he remembered he'd left the book back at school—probably in the book cubby under his desk in math class. He'd assumed the worst when Specs had driven out there and bribed a janitor to get in, only to find no evidence of the journal or his math homework. For days, he'd skulked in the shadows, convinced that at any second, the tabloids were gonna release every secret he'd shared with Luna over the last few months.

"Only for it to return with a sylleblossom pressed in the pages," Ignis said with a chuckle.

"Which means . . .?"

"It means what it means," Noct snapped before Ignis could answer with some kinda joke. "'Everything's okay,' 'I'm here . . ..' Y'know—flower stuff."

"Yes, well," Ignis said diplomatically, "shall we make tracks, Noct? We have a bounty to handle before we set our sights on game that resides in the dark."

"How many on the list today?" Prompto asked.

Ignis hesitated for a moment. "Three. A herd of magnanirs and mesmenirs, and two daemon hunts."

"The bone-icorns?" he thought he heard Laura ask.

"Didn't your text say five hunts?" Gladio asked as Ignis unlocked the car and got inside.

He leaned forward to press the button that would lower the top before he answered, "I . . . thought some were below our level of skill and decided we could leave them as fodder for amateur Hunters . . . if that's all right with His Highness, that is."

Ignis was always doing this kinda thing—the subtle reminders that he was supposed to be the one in charge calling the shots—but he wasn't in the mood for playing mind games this afternoon. He'd thought they were supposed to be saving up money for when they got to Altissia, but then again, he wasn't sure if the government there was supposed to be putting them up for the wedding. Either way, the finances were supposed to be Ignis's thing, not his.

"Whatever you think."

"Very well then," he said, starting the car. "The herd was last sighted just to the west of Longwythe Peak. With any luck, we can track them down before nightfall. Then we handle the daemons."

"Cool."

* * *

Noct had _thought_ Ignis's newfound confidence in their skills would mean that he would chill out a little, or at least get off Noct's back some. It was bad enough that he wasn't allowed to go on a road trip without his Shield, Advisor, and an extra bodyguard, but from the very first time he'd pulled his sword out to _finally_ use it for real, Ignis hadn't backed off for a second while they were in combat—jumping in front of him and flinging his arms out, pushing him out of the way, sticking way too close as they tracked their quarry. Didn't Ignis trust him to handle himself after all the training they'd had? Noct had taken to warping more often just so the guy couldn't keep up with him.

Like right now. Noct crept silently over the cracked dirt, hunched over with his hands at the ready to summon his sword as he swung his eyes over the terrain in search of the bone-white horn of a . . . whatever it was called rising high in the air, which he knew he would find close by, since he could hear the herd's hoofbeats growing louder as they drew closer. He could also feel Specs right at his back, his fingers brushing against his t-shirt.

"Just ahead," Ignis whispered, pointing to the really obvious flurry of white in the distance standing out against the never-ending brown canvas of dirt and dust. He positioned himself in front of Noct as they drew closer, holding his arm out as he whispered, "Proceed with caution."

What was he gonna do if they attacked—push him to safety like some little kid? What would it take before he trusted Noct to handle himself? Screw this sneaking around.

"The hunt is on," he growled as he raised his sword over his shoulder, threw it over Ignis's outstretched arm, and warped to the nearest bony creature—he couldn't tell if it was a magnanir or a mesmenir, but it didn't really matter—just before the blade buried itself between the animal's ribs. The whoosh of his warp faded from his ears as time returned to normal, and as his boots hit the ground and his elbows jarred painfully from the force of his impact, Noct thought he could hear Ignis sigh from behind him.

Pain in the ass.

Once he'd drawn the blade from the creature's hard exoskeleton and retreated a safe distance, Noct glanced quickly around the combat area for Gladio, convinced his heavier sword would have a better time hacking through this thing's plated armor. When he spotted Laura standing on a high rock overlooking the scene, Noct had to keep from rolling his eyes. But Ignis and Gladio had caught up and joined the fight while Prompto hung back, taking shots from a distance. Dismissing his daggers and summoning a polearm, Ignis flipped over the body of a fallen . . . whatever and landed in a crouch to swing the blade around and jab it into another's chest.

"Watch the enemies' movements," he called out in a clipped tone, "and don't—"

"Yep. Right. Got it."

Seriously? "Watch the enemies' movements"? What else was he gonna do, close his eyes and do a dance through the combat area? It wasn't like he didn't already know all this stuff, and Ignis was just as inexperienced as he was in hunting animals.

Damn, but these things were faster and way more vicious than the sabertusks they'd dealt with in Hammerhead, and even Prompto was having trouble staying off to the sidelines to get a shot as the animals pounded through the combat area, spinning in circles and kicking up their head-sized hooves to kick at him or try to slice him in half with the long, bladed horn on top of their heads.

"Gladio, do it," Noct commanded irritably as he took several steps back and summoned a potion. He breathed a sigh of relief as the glass cracked in his gloved hand and the soothing magic washed over his arm, stemming the steady drips of blood as though they'd never been there.

"Hell yeah, you want some?" he growled, winding up for the cyclonic move he'd named _tempest_. "Try this!" With his last whirlwind around two of the creatures' ribs, Noct followed up with a warp into one of their chests to finish it.

"Say your prayers!" Prompto laughed as he took a shot at another of the herd.

"Nice one!" Noct called out to the both of them, but really he was more impressed with Prompto's attitude. As much as he loved animals, Noct was surprised he'd made the adjustment to hunting so easily.

Noct was about to warp in to finish off one of their two remaining marks when something collided into him from the side, slamming him to the ground.

"Hey!" But his protest was cut short as a scythed horn passed inches above his head.

"Bollocks," he _thought_ he heard Ignis Scientia, perfectly composed Senior Advisor who was always getting onto him about his language, whisper under his breath.

" _What_ did you just say?" He turned in Ignis's direction to see him kneeling in the dirt inspecting a bloody tear in his jeans.

Ignis leapt to his feet and summoned his daggers to his hands. "Never you mind," he said tersely before flying off to toss his blades into the belly of the rearing beast several yards in front of them.

Noct staggered to his knees, recoiling a little when a camera suddenly appeared between him and his quarry. "Smile, Noct!"

"Ugh, Prompto, do you have to take that _now_?"

Prompto leaned down to give him a hand up. "Hey, this is probably my best shot today!"

"On and off the field, if you don't pay attention," Gladio growled as he and Ignis flanked their last creature.

"Yes, some shots would be helpful right about now," Ignis agreed.

"Right! You betcha!"

By the time it fell to the dirt at their feet and Gladio had finished stripping the corpses, the sun was beginning to set, streaking the sky with pink and gold light. Instinct was urging him to go back to the hotel; he'd heard the stories of iron giants as big as houses popping out of the ground right in front of cars on the road, but he also had Ignis's doubt weighing heavy on his mind. They needed to bag something good, something _big_ , and maybe Specs would finally lay off.

"It should be dark by the time we get to where those daemons were last spotted," Laura said without preamble when they'd caught up to her. "They're just to the north of the peak, so we have to walk."

"You actually gonna hunt with us for once?" Noct asked as he fell into step behind her.

He couldn't decide if the look she gave him was hurt or irritation, but he felt kinda bad when she answered, "I said I would."

It took what felt like hours to navigate the darkening terrain, keeping the peak to their right for protection as they stumbled their way over the rock outcroppings. When they'd reached the spot and those five flan seemed to grow up out of the ground and rise into a gelatinous puddle of glowing black goop, Noct had to stop and watch for a few seconds as Laura pulled out her ornate falchions in a flash of silver light and leapt fearlessly into the middle of all of them. Ignis had been right: they'd seen a lot of swordplay in their lives, but he'd never seen anyone move the way she did—like she was dancing.

As she twirled to slash one blade across the belly of one flan, she stabbed the other out to the side without even looking in the second one's direction. She seemed to move without thought or hesitation—so swiftly that Noct had trouble analyzing her attacks and retreats as she feinted and swayed fluidly around the combat area.

Okay, maybe he _could_ see why his dad had thought it would be a good idea to send her along with them besides helping Specs with the chores.

"You gonna help or stare?" Gladio asked as he hustled by to squish his blade into one of the daemons with a juicy, squelching sound that kinda grossed him out a little.

Coming to his senses, Noct joined the fray, warping and pulling out all the aerial combat moves he'd learned to impress her . . . and maybe Ignis, but he barely let Laura out of sight as they finished up. As much as she'd contributed to the battle, Noct had seen her move faster with Gladio, and she'd had to have moved even faster if she'd really defeated Cor. He got the sense she was holding back but couldn't figure out why.

But they were all gonna have to up their game if they were gonna keep up with her—even Mr. Perfect, who was off to the side applying another potion to his bloody abdomen.

"Gladio got 'em!" Prompto called out, dismissing his pistol and pointing finger guns at Gladio.

Gladio jiggled his sword through the last flan's chest and into the dirt as he smirked in Prompto's direction. "What'd you expect?"

"Well done, everyone," Ignis said, delicately adjusting his glasses on his nose as he rejoined them. "Though even with the extra help, I should've liked to wrap that up more quickly."

"You in a hurry or somethin'?" Gladio asked as Ignis turned and took several long strides back the way they'd come. "Not like we don't got all night."

He stopped, careful not to let the light clipped to his blazer hit anyone in the face. "We'll need to head back to the car for this final bounty, and I have reason to believe we may have competition for this one. In fact, I'd expected to see them before this."

Noct sighed and followed after him. "Then why didn't we do that one first?"

"I thought we might give the local population an opportunity first, given the state of the economy out here in the wild," he said. "But if you disagree, I shall of course defer to your decision and make the necessary adjustments next time."

The local economy? More like he'd probably hoped it'd get taken off their list so they wouldn't be in any more danger. "Whatever. The economy's important too."

"Please tell me we don't have to make camp tonight," Prompto complained. "We _are_ gonna stay in the motel, right?"

"Yeah, Specs," Noct agreed. "Whaddya say? I could use a real shower." He leaned toward Ignis, rubbing his hands vigorously through his hair and releasing a cloud of dust all over his precious coeurl-print shirt.

He scowled distastefully, brushing off the shiny fabric with a gloved hand. "Yes, I had planned for us to stay in the motel this evening—in the wildest of hopes that civilization would do you some good, Highness."

"All right!" Prompto whooped, bouncing forward on the balls of his feel. "Soft beds, baby!"

"Surprised you're willing to drive us out to the steps at all tonight," Gladio said. "Thought you were gonna put your foot down after refusing to let us hunt daemons in Hammerhead."

"We've proved ourselves enough, I believe, to handle this. A prince's duties include protecting the people, and it is my duty to serve in assisting with that function. That does _not_ , however, mean that I will support frivolous sojourns in the dark."

"Whatever you say, Sergeant Specs."

* * *

According to the clock on the dash, it had been a couple of hours since they'd hopped in the Regalia and driven down to the Callaegh Steps, which appeared to Noct as flat rock platforms set into an overgrown, gray-green hillside. If he squinted into the dim landscape lit by the moon overhead, he thought he could see something in the distance—an old, broken-down crane, maybe. But he was having trouble concentrating on helping the others locate the spot where these goblins were supposed to be giving everyone trouble. It was now past one in the morning, and the two hours' nap he'd just had wasn't nearly enough—not to mention that he hadn't eaten anything since lunch. Even as he crept up the hillside with his hands held at the ready to summon a weapon, he could hear his stomach churning and growling.

"Hey Ignis, make it a BBQ tonight," he suggested to the backlit shadow creeping just ahead.

"Mmm, might be a little late for one."

"Yeah, late night meals make ya fat," Prompto agreed.

"I was more concerned about the mess, the utensils that will need scrubbing. Perhaps something simpler, but no less filling."

Ugh, seriously? It wasn't like the precious dishes couldn't be left until tomorrow, and he and Laura loved doing the dishes together anyway. "Any _other_ excuses?"

"If—"

Whatever his answer had been, Noct would never hear it. The five of them froze as a long, raw scream pierced the night air.

"That one was human," Gladio yelled, already rushing in the direction of the sound. "Someone needs help!"

"Let's go!" Ignis urged.

At the sound of another, shorter scream and the unmistakable clang of a metal weapon clattering against stone, Noct put on a burst of speed, summoning his blade to his hand to prepare to warp his way there.

"No Noct!" Ignis commanded, holding out a hand as they ran. "Save your magic for the battle."

"But we gotta save them now!"

Ignis threw him a steely-eyed glare. "You must learn to use your resources wisely."

"Can't protect anyone if you hit stasis and pass out before you get there," Gladio agreed. "Save your magic."

Their travel lights found them first, even though his eyes couldn't identify what exactly he was seeing. Swirls of black and purple writhed like snakes around two pale heaps on the ground, gathering into several billowing clouds, each the size of a kid.

"What's—"

Long, bony arms ripped their way through each of the clouds, and as seven sets of similarly pale and scrawny legs took on the weightless bodies and lifted them to their full, stunted height, Noct realized the cause of the mayhem.

"It's the goblins!" he cried out, summoning his blade and warping forward. He slammed into the small, slimy body, sickened a little at how human it seemed, but didn't hesitate in pushing the steel through the thin membrane of skin and sinewy flesh.

"Noct!" Ignis called out from across the field. "Might I suggest we shed a little light on the situation?"

"Oh yeah, Prompto!"

As he slashed across the goblin's neck, driving it away from the heap he was starting to think might be a person, he heard Prompto's reply, "Sure thing! Let me brighten your day!"

An explosion of sound flooded bright white light over the scene just as Noct's daemon melted into the soil at his feet in a puddle of black and purple goop. A sickeningly sweet smell mixed with freshly-laid tar washed over him, making him glad that he hadn't eaten in a while, and he staggered back from the stench clinging to his nostrils, tripping over the heap behind him and dismissing his sword before he killed himself falling on his ass.

"You okay?" Gladio asked grabbing for his hand, but he couldn't move.

"That's—" He couldn't catch his breath as he choked on his own voice, but Gladio seemed to get the message when he raised a trembling hand to point in front of them.

"Yeah," Gladio said grimly, tugging him to his feet whether he liked it or not. "C'mon. We got the rest of 'em. Looks like two of the civs survived. Iggy's givin' 'em some of our potions now."

But Noct couldn't tear his eyes off the shredded pile of flesh, bone, blood, and clothing as he was led toward where the others stood in a circle. It was difficult to tell beneath the red stain still dripping down the guy's vacant, terrified expression, but he thought that he appeared to be about their age. His black leather Hunter's jerkin had been clawed open to reveal his breastbone, somehow standing out starkly white against the almost black pool growing beneath his back. The long wooden handle of some kinda weapon lay splintered in his right hand as though he'd died defending himself with whatever he'd had left.

Noct hadn't really ever seen a body up close—not really. In the battle of Tenebrae, everything had been too hectic for him to really focus on the soldiers falling all around him, and he hadn't actually seen Luna's mom's _face_ like this . . ..

"What can we do to help?" he distantly heard Laura asking someone.

Noct released his breath in a whoosh as Prompto's starshell faded, plunging the horrific sight into a blackness too deep for his travel light to penetrate. The numb horror seizing his chest made it difficult for him to tell whether he was relieved not to have to see it any longer, but the afterimage still burned the back of his retinas even as he was brought to the rest of the group.

"We'll carry 'im back to the truck ourselves," one of the Hunters was saying.

"There were too many. We just ran for it," a younger guy said in a trembling voice. In the glow created by all their travel lights, he looked to Noct like a corpse himself—pale as death and wide-eyed. "I . . . I didn't even check to see if he followed or not. Shit."

"I thank yeh kindly fer comin' to our rescue," the older Hunter said solemnly, "but you boys better get goin'. Between the light and the sound, we're all gonna get overrun here in a second."

"He's got a point," Gladio said. "We gotta get outta here."

"Please take the bounty to do with as you will," Ignis said as they separated, "for the burial or the family."

Noct didn't hear the Hunter's response as he fell into step beside Prompto, who was staring blankly out at the small illuminated cone of landscape his travel light revealed. "They just . . . left him there alone. In the dark," he whispered.

"Let that be a lesson to you," Gladio said in a low, grave tone from behind them. "Never leave a man behind."

"And far from being a videogame," Ignis added. "A game over in the wild bears rather severe and permanent consequences."

"I know that," Noct snapped. Six, this was the exact thing that'd been bugging him about Ignis since they'd left the city. He wasn't some stupid kid thinking life was a videogame, and anyway, he'd had way more training than these people out here. He had his magic. He had his sword. No way was he gonna fall to a bunch of goblins. It wasn't fair that Ignis had known him since he was a baby and obviously still saw him that way. What did he have to _do_ , anyway, to make Ignis happy and get him to back the hell off? To see him as the twenty-year-old grownup he was now?

"You got somethin' to say, too?" he demanded as he turned to Laura, since she was the only babysitter than hadn't said a word yet.

A flicker of disbelief shone in her eyes as she looked over at him. "Actually, no. I am neither your Shield nor your Advisor."

"Then what _are_ you s'posed to be exactly?"

"Noct, c'mon, man," Prompto said shakily. "Let's just get back to the car. Hot meal, hot shower, sleep in a bed. Things'll be better in the morning."

"Yeah." But he didn't believe it.

They were almost at the car—Noct could see the street lamps reflecting off the glossy black paint just ahead past a small rise—when Ignis placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"What?"

He pointed to a writhing pool of black bodies in a dark dip between two slopes, blocking their path to the car. "Saphyrtails," he said in a low voice. "Noct, saphyrtails are a formidable enemy at the best of times, but we've been out all night, and there are five of them. I suggest we retreat for now."

But this was exactly the situation he'd been waiting for. "Come on, Specs," he said with a smirk, but there was a harsh edge to his tone he almost didn't recognize. Ignis had interfered enough for one day, as far as he was concerned, and he was gonna prove that he had what it took to not have to be protected all the time. He summoned his sword to his hand with a tinkling wash of magic. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

Ignis paused, his eyes narrowing in that way that always made Noct feel like he was seeing right through him. Six, he hated that. He raised his chin in defiance, daring him to say something. After several seconds, Ignis sighed.

"Wrapped up in a good book, I should think," he replied wearily, summoning his daggers.

"Looks like that's your cue to leave, Laura," Prompto said. "Kinda wish I could too!"

Laura's attention slid over Noct and landed first on Gladio, then on Ignis. She seemed to be inspecting them all in the same way Ignis always did, and Noct's jaw tightened a little at her potential interference.

Maybe not his Shield or Advisor, but definitely one of his babysitters.

"Please be careful, you guys," she said softly before turning off the travel light clipped to her jacket and backing away.

Noct nodded and made to step toward the creatures, but Ignis slapped his shoulder lightly with the back of a hand. "These saphyrtails shouldn't be in this region. Noct, we must take extra care. They may be mad, like the dualhorn."

"We got this."

"Very well, but bear in mind that there's a thin line betwixt bravery and stupidity. If you insist, they're weak to swords, greatswords, and lightning, so be certain to either have the flasks ready for us to use, or call on Gladio to use his technique."

He didn't bother dignifying his patronizing tone with a response and tossed his sword toward the closest saphytail, setting himself up for a warp-strike. As he wrapped his hand around the shadow of his hilt, he released his hold on time and slammed the blade into the body of the beast, but instead of the clang and juicy thud he'd been expecting, the screeching protest of his sword against the shiny black exoskeleton assaulted his ears. He took several staggering steps back, spinning to the side to duck a blow from a vicious stinger tossed at his head.

If the four of them had been able to gang up on one at a time, they might've stood a chance, but the hideous creatures seemed to have sensed his weakness after his failed strike. As Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto formed up behind him to bolster his attack, the remaining four encircled them.

"Form a circle as well!" Ignis instructed, backing against him with his daggers raised. "Whatever you do, do _not_ allow them to scatter us!"

Noct did as he was told, focusing on the saphyrtail in front of him and trying to determine where its weak spot was, but with the four of them forced to keep in formation, there was nowhere to go to evade the snapping claws and biting, burning stinger. Hot blood welled up from the gashes and punctures in his arms and dripped down to his fingers, making it difficult to keep hold of his sword hilt. The ringing clang of steel against armored claws made his eyes tear up to the point where he could no longer see clearly when to dodge the clacking pincers and vicious stingers still eating away at him.

He had to break their ranks. They were all gonna die if they stayed in one place much longer. He tried his best to gather his strength and his nerve, twisting into time and attempting to warp-strike through them, but gods damn it, he didn't have enough in him to pierce through their tough armor. The tip of his sword slid off the shiny exoskeleton and into the dirt with another shriek as he scrabbled after it amidst the snapping claws.

"Don't try that again," Gladio advised.

"Can you locate a warp point nearby?" Ignis asked as he jabbed a dagger at a saphyrtail's claw before leaning to kick a second in the . . . face, he guessed?

Noct spun in a quick circle, searching for a high place he could warp to one last time so he could better recharge his drained magic and save the guys, but the area surrounding them was completely flat, lacking even a tall boulder for him to get to.

"No!" Noct cried out in frustration.

He was about to batter aside another advancing stinger when the largest saphyrtail took three steps forward, knocking Prompto onto his back.

"Ahh!"

Noct didn't spare a second thought as he tossed his blade at the animal's back, using his last warp before he hit stasis to give Prompto enough time to scramble backwards. But as the sparkling blue disappeared and time returned to normal, that unnatural wave of dizziness and fatigue rolled over him, forcing him to his knees.

Something hot and sharp suddenly burned in his gut, and he gasped at the shock of the chill spreading out to his head and feet.

"Noct!" Prompto screamed.

He looked down in a daze and noted almost in a detached way that a long, black pincer stuck out from his abdomen. The blood slickening his hands was nothing compared to what dripped down his t-shirt, but it was kinda funny the way it didn't even hurt that much . . .

. . . until it suddenly did—a lot.

"Noct!" Gladio bellowed, slashing his sword at the saphyrtail's head.

Noct felt two hands on his shoulders yanking him back from the claw with a sickening lurch before he fell forward onto his face, his sweat-covered cheek almost sticking to the dirt.

Sweet Six, was he tired.

As he rolled over, he bit into his cheek to try and clear the fog from his head. Three determined figures hovered over him, their movements a blur as they fought against the onslaught of snapping claws and lunging stingers. The creatures' attacks had been just as hard on the rest of them from the looks of things—so relentless that they too hadn't had the chance to pull out potions to heal themselves. Noct flexed his fingers, trying to feel for that groove in his head where access to the armiger lay so he could at least be of some use to them, but he just couldn't remember how to summon right now.

"Highness," Ignis groaned as the ground shook by his head. He lolled over to find the cause, and panic seized his chest at the sight of Ignis on his knees a few feet away, panting. Specs never faltered in their training sessions, never admitted defeat. Were things really that bad? Stinging blows still battered at him as he dragged his bloody legs behind him to hover over Noct, and with a growl of effort, he once again raised his dagger up against the assault in a last-ditch effort to protect him to the death.

"Fuck," Gladio huffed, crouching above them with his sword above his head, his face twisted into a grimace of pain.

Noct couldn't even see Prompto anymore. Was he even still alive? He couldn't hear any shots.

Shit. They were all gonna die, right here in this moment, because he'd ignored Ignis's advice.

What had he managed to do with his life so far, really? Sure, he'd gone to school and learned to fight and done everything that was asked of him without complaint. He'd played along with the whole Chosen King business, went through his training, and agreed to this whole treaty thing. But would they be in this situation if he'd put as much effort in as Gladio and Ignis had their entire lives? Maybe they wouldn't all be here dying because of a dumbass decision he'd made.

The vision of that bloody corpse passed over his eyes like a phantom. Gods, that was gonna be him any second now—all of them.

No wonder his dad never trusted him.

A sudden _whoosh-clang_ and the thud of something large hitting the ground made Noct twitch in pain on the ground, and at first, he was afraid to look around to see that it'd been the final blow to one of his friends. The sound repeated four more times over the noise of labored breathing and armored animal against steel, and with each repetition, the stingers biting into his skin and the clacking of claws slowed until it grew quiet. It was only once the night had grown still that his fuzzy head suggested the sound had been a powerful warp-strike.

Thank the gods. What were the odds that they'd run into a random Glaive all the way out here?

"Here, Highness," Ignis said in a low voice, cracking a hi-elixir over his abdomen.

"Thanks, Specs," he gasped as the pain disappeared immediately, wiping his brain clear of the fog and allowing him to sit up.

Ignis was kneeled by his side, his eyes darting over him and checking for any injuries the elixir hadn't covered, but Noct was only interested in discovering who had rescued them. He pushed Ignis out of the way and squinted into the dark.

There she stood—black blood dripping from her falchions and her body still glowing blue from her last warp. He'd forgotten about Laura. Somehow, he hadn't even considered her an option during the fight. How could he have completely forgotten about the bodyguard his dad had forced them to take along for this very thing?

The second the glow faded, she dismissed her falchions, dropped to all fours, and violently emptied the contents of her stomach onto the dusty ground with wracking heaves.

The four of them exchanged uncomfortable glances as she convulsed until Gladio seemed to wake up and rushed forward to reach her, dropping to his knees to grab the hair that had come loose from her clip and holding it so it didn't trail on the ground.

"Whoa, I didn't know you could warp! Dude! That was awesome!" Prompto patted her hard on the back. She began to choke, drawing in deep, heaving breaths of air. "Err, sorry," he muttered sheepishly when Gladio glared up at him.

"All in one piece?" Ignis asked softly as he pulled Noct to his feet.

"Yeah."

He gave a sharp nod in response, thankfully choosing not to lecture him, and approached the rest of the group just as Laura was sitting back on her knees. In the washed-out glow of their travel lights, it was clear even from Noct's distance that she was trembling as she took in several slow, deep breaths.

"Are you all right?" Ignis asked her in a soft voice.

She nodded. "I'll be fine. A number of factors there to make that experience unpleasant. Just give me a moment, please." She gestured to the circle of bodies still surrounding where Noct stood frozen, her mouth twisting in a grimace. "Go ahead and do what you need to do, Gladio. Thank you for your help."

Her expression grew clearer as Gladio gave her a pat on the shoulder and stood to strip the corpses of anything valuable.

Looking up at Ignis and Prompto leaning over her before turning to study Noct, she asked, "Is everyone all right? Noctis, you haven't said anything."

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks," he mumbled. There was so much more he knew he should say, but he couldn't seem to find the words. Something tight was squeezing his lungs—that breathless sort of shock he'd sometimes feel when he missed a step going downstairs.

"All right, got the goods," Gladio barked from behind him. "Let's get the hell outta here."

Noct obediently turned and numbly started following Gladio toward the car, but he stopped when he heard Laura call out behind them.

"Wait. I need to do something first."

"We can't stay here," Gladio argued. "You heard what that Hunter said. Every daemon in the region will've heard that commotion."

"Then leave me behind," she snarled. "But I _need_ to do this."

They might not have known Laura that long, but Noct had never seen her lose her temper like that before, not even close. Another lance of guilt stabbed at him that he'd not only proven to Ignis his judgment couldn't be trusted, but he'd also made himself look like an idiot in front of everyone and pissed off his dad's envoy. He was definitely gonna have to come up with something more to say to smooth things over when they got back to the motel. But for now, all they could do was stick together, and since it sounded like she was gonna do whatever it was whether they stayed or not, they didn't really have a choice.

"No one's leaving anyone behind," Noct reminded her. "We stick together."

She gave him a single solemn nod as she drew closer, stopping at the pile of carcasses Gladio had just finished with and placing her right hand on the back of the top body. She closed her eyes, and after several seconds of thoughtful silence, opened her mouth and began to sing a sad, soft song for the hideous creatures that had just tried to kill them all. Noct didn't understand a word of her song, but he swore he could feel the regret and repentance hanging heavy in the air as it traveled over the open plains. He exchanged a questioning glance with Ignis. Even though the sound was haunting and beautiful, they should really be quieter than this, shouldn't they?

He frowned in response, but didn't say a word.

"Well, _I_ think she could've been a pop star," Prompto whispered.

A silver white light blossomed from beneath her hand, covering the creatures in the kind of sparkling silver magic he'd only seen once by the campfire. The ground beneath the pile shifted, turning into quicksand and swallowing the bodies like a sinking ship beneath the waves. Laura's voice faded after the last pincer had completely disappeared, and she stood—pale and swaying, oblivious to the four of them gaping at her. Ignis took a step forward to catch her, and it was only then that she seemed to catch sight of them.

"Let's leave, please," she said in a voice choked with what sounded to him like tears.

* * *

Noct threw himself back in the fake leather armchair, stabbing half-heatedly at the barbequed spicy long bone rib steak that Specs had probably made in an effort to cheer him up, but really it was just helping him feel more like shit. At the moment, Specs was in a bad mood himself, and Noct was happy that his temper wasn't directed at him for once.

"Please eat this," he requested softly as he shook the plate of dualhorn steak a little in front of Laura's face, but he had that imperious kind of tone that Noct knew meant not to argue with him.

Laura let out a long sigh, hugging her knees closer to her chest as she shrank back into the corner of the armchair.

"No, thank you."

Ignis pursed his lips before speaking again—this time lacing his words with that condescending disappointment Noct knew would either piss Laura off even more or guilt her into doing whatever he asked.

"I haven't seen you eat a complete meal in the entire time I've known you. Please don't make me resort to physical coercion," he ground out, brandishing the plate at her. "You've expended far too much energy this evening on our behalf, and it must be replaced somehow. I'd be happy to make you something else if you find dualhorn not to your tastes."

Laura turned her head away in Noct's direction, and for a second, she almost looked disgusted. Did she not like Spec's cooking? It hadn't escaped their notice that she rarely ate any of their food, but Ignis had said it was because her energy issue made her feel sick. Now that that was pretty much over, they all figured things would change on that front, but she still only ate breakfast with them, and only on some days.

"Maybe I'll have some tea later," she said softly, closing her eyes.

"Please—tea is not nutrition at all. You may be some sort of legendary killer, but even assassins need to eat a well-balanced meal. I _must_ insist you eat this—or _something_ , anything."

At the word "killer," Laura flinched like he'd slapped her, and when she'd opened her eyes again to stare up at him, they glittered with anger and hurt as she said in a low, dark tone, "Ignis? Back. Off. I mean it." Pushing the plate away, she stood and stalked silently out of the room, shutting the front door behind her.

In the silence she'd left behind, Noct hastily cut into his meat, stabbed the bite, and jammed it into his mouth—chewing enthusiastically so that Specs wouldn't turn on him now that she'd left.

With a somewhat hopeless gesture toward the door, Ignis asked in a soft, almost vulnerable tone, "Are my culinary skills truly that lacking that she can't bring herself to eat anything I make?"

Like Noct, Gladio also wisely chose not to speak up, opting instead to dig into his dualhorn with gusto to express his implied approval of Ignis's cooking skills. It was Prompto who hesitantly raised his hand as though asking permission from a harsh teacher to speak.

"Uhhh, hey, man. You know your cooking's amazing, right? But . . . maybe she just doesn't eat meat? I mean, you see how weird she is about animals. Plus, you mix the veg into everything so Noct's gotta eat 'em, but then she can't pick around it. And you know how she is. She's not gonna ask you to make her a special meal."

A beat or two passed in silence before Ignis came to some kinda realization. He inhaled sharply through his nose as his eyes snapped to the front door. "I fear I may have overstepped my bounds. I should go apologize."

"Leave her, Specs," Noct sighed before he could take a step toward the door. "Don't need you pissing her off even more. I gotta talk to her about . . . something else anyway." He stabbed the last bite on his plate, shoveled it in his mouth, and stood to hand Ignis the empty dish, but Ignis touched his arm with his other hand as he took it, forestalling his exit.

"Noct, I don't know what your intentions are, but I ask that you don't make any rash decisions. I may have pushed her past the bounds of usual politeness and plead that you place the blame solely on me."

"Take it easy, there," he said with an encouraging smile. "No rash decisions, I promise. I just need to talk to her in private."

As he opened the door and scanned the motel courtyard, he immediately spotted her sitting on one of the porch chairs a few doors down—her knees drawn up to her chest and her chin resting on top of them. When he sat down in the crappy white plastic chair across from her, she lowered her eyes from the night sky to look at him with a weary expression. She didn't look like she'd been crying, but her eyes were shining and bloodshot like she wanted to. It was probably for the best that Ignis hadn't been the one to come out here, since he'd probably rather lay down and die than know his words had nearly brought a girl to tears.

"I'm sorry," she said, blinking and leaning back further into the chair, still hugging her knees. "Being called a killer like that—he couldn't have known that it's more than a sore spot for me, and emotions tend to run a little closer to the surface when I . . . anyway, that's no excuse. I'll apologize to him when I go back inside."

"Don't worry about it," he said gently. "You know how many times I wanted to do that when he yells at me about my diet?" He was pleased to see her chuckle in response, but she still looked so small and so _tired_. "Are you gonna be okay? Noticed you used both your magic and the Crystal's back there."

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug and rested her chin against her knees again. "The Crystal's powers don't drain me as mine do, but they still hurt. It's not like I did anything drastic with my own. I'll probably need to sleep more than usual for a day or so."

"Listen, I wanted to . . . you know, thank you for what you did back there. You saved our lives, and I just wanted to . . . I dunno, acknowledge it."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "Thank you. But I was only fulfilling my promise to your father."

Without any additional response from him, she suddenly raised her head, lowered her knees, and sat up straight. The regality of her posture caught Noct's attention, reminding him of his dad when he was about to get a lecture. _Here it comes,_ he thought, tensing as he waited for her next words.

"I hope you've given the others a similar speech tonight. They were all ready to die for you back there."

"Uh, not really, no," he said, wincing down at the table between them. "I keep running it back in my head—I just ignored Ignis and went for it." Again, that image of the blood-soaked heap on the ground with those wide, vacant eyes staring off at nothing seared itself in his mind's eye, and he shuddered a little against the cool night air. "I just wanted him to trust me for once. But we all could've died."

She sighed wearily. "Well, you're young. Frankly, I expected you to do something like this sooner."

"Thanks for the encouragement. Don't think I haven't been beating myself up about this."

"There is no condemnation harsher than one's own when self-pretense is no longer possible, but now that you've seen for yourself the consequences, remember the lessons you've learned from this—that your decisions as a prince, and eventually king, affect the lives of others. Decide when it's worth it if you die and when it isn't. Just so you know," she added lightly, looking out across the courtyard, "a group of saphyrtails is _not_ worth it."

He chuckled a little. "I'll keep that in mind."

He followed her line of sight, curious to see what she was watching so intently. Beyond the lighted courtyard and above the diner, the endless black sky twinkled with stars—fewer than those he'd seen out on the havens, but still pretty impressive compared to Insomnia.

"The night sky is so beautiful here," she sighed, but she sounded almost depressed as she said it.

"Yeah, noticed you and Specs have that in common. Even the way you talk sometimes . . . did you serve as an advisor or something?"

She frowned. "I was a queen, once," she said so quietly that Noct almost hadn't heard her. "I guess it's only fair that you know. Had the whole 'fate of the world is resting on your shoulders' bit and everything, just like you. You'd think fate would learn to stop doing that to children, but no. It happens alarmingly often."

"What happened?" he croaked, because he had a feeling he knew.

A shadow passed over her face as she let out a small, bitter chuckle. "Didn't Ignis tell you? They all died. Every single one of them. Every person in every kingdom involved in the war died—even the children. And it was my fault."

Noct tried to conceal the horror that was no doubt bleeding into his expression, but he was too repulsed by her words to give it his full attention. Ignis had told them her people had all died in a war, but this was completely different. Even though he'd been told he was the Chosen King ever since he was a kid, he'd never _really_ thought about what it meant, about the consequences should he fail. But as he stared into the face of failure now, he didn't like what he saw at all. How would he feel if every person in Insomnia _and_ Niflheim died because of him?

"I wanted to die," she whispered, almost as if in answer to his last thought. "I would've died in the wake of disease that took them all out, too, if it hadn't been for a quirk of genetics. Well, that and cowardice. Turns out, I'm incapable of taking my own life."

"I—I'm . . .."

But she cut him off before he could think of _something_ to say. "You don't need to say anything. I only tell you this because I want you to really _think_ about your future, Noctis. People like us—we must strive to be more than we are. It doesn't matter that we'll never reach our ultimate goal. You need to decide what you're willing to live, or die, with."

She fell silent, idly reaching up to grip the pendant around her neck as the crickets chirped in peaceful mockery of the bleak hole sitting between them. When she spoke again, her voice was steady and sure, as though she hadn't just told him she'd been responsible for the deaths of thousands or millions of people.

"This is your journey, not mine. I'm here to help, not offer unsolicited advice. There's just one more thing I need to say first, though. The worst thing isn't dying yourself. It's being the one to survive. Protect your friends with everything you have, and don't take their sacrifices for granted. You'll find that life is not worth living if you lose them.

"All the quipping and adventures are great fun, but remember that those men will follow you into the depths of hell itself; you don't even have to ask. They've given up their one and only lives to be with you, and that's a sacrifice that you should hold most precious to your heart. Tell them while you can, in case it's ever too late."


	9. Chapter 9

Prompto was ready to pass out and forget everything that had happened as he slumped onto the edge of the bed he, Noct, and Laura would be sharing that night. But on closing his eyes, his brain couldn't help but replay everything he'd seen in the last couple of hours, and he found himself wondering just how the hell life had gotten so complicated so fast. This was _supposed_ to've been an awesome road trip: good food, good tunes, good company, and an invitation to his best friend's wedding to the girl that had shaped Prompto's entire life.

The truth was none of this hunting stuff was really his thing—he secretly hated it just as much as Laura seemed to. But he also saw the way the guys gave her crap for it, and while he admired the hell out of her for sticking up for herself, no way did he have the stones to put his friendships on the line for something as lame as his comfort like that. Plus, it was kinda cool the way he'd gotten the guys' approval when they saw he wasn't too shabby with a pistol. He'd just have to get used to it.

Having been a crack shot at arcade shooters all his life, he was used to blood, guts, and corpses on TV, but this trip . . . seeing it in real life had been a totally new level. He'd only held his first real gun about a year ago when Noct suggested he might be able to go with him on his Bonding of Souls tour, but he never thought he'd actually ever kill anything with it—not really. He seemed to lack whatever instinct it was the other three had—not that he didn't love the jokes and teamwork and stuff—but it was kinda weird seeing _Noct_ , the guy who used to let him borrow his Lucian homework, using all these amazing powers and turning into some kinda super warrior out here.

Tonight had been proof Prompto wasn't really cut out for that kinda life. He was a fake, really, and sort of secretly jealous at how everyone around him seemed to be amazing at everything.

Seeing that body . . . it was the first dead body he'd ever seen in real life, and it wasn't anything like TV. The colors seemed so much more vivid, the sense of death so much closer. The _smell_ —that metallic, coppery scent that had shoved its way down his nostrils and wouldn't let go. Iggy, Gladio, and Laura had barely reacted to the sight, and it looked like even Noct had managed to hold himself together pretty good, but Prompto just couldn't shake the horror in that dead stare. Even now, as he leaned forward on his knees and closed his eyes to shake the vision, it continued to haunt him.

And even though he tried to think of something happier, the images from tonight continued to flicker behind his eyelids like flashbacks in a bad horror movie—Noct on his knees, white as a sheet with a claw buried in his gut; that final sight of a stinger headed for Prompto's face before he blacked out; the flecks of red he'd spotted on the tiles before hopping in himself to scald the horrible near-death experience from his now unmarked skin, still covered in dried blood.

Really, this was way more than he'd signed up for. He hadn't expected to die on his way to Noct's wedding, but the more they pulled off this crazy shit, the more likely it seemed. Could he continue on this trip, even if it wound up killing him? Even if he had to become someone he wasn't to do it?

The answer exploded in his head like a bomb: YES. It wasn't like he had much back home, and even though he'd already done a lot of wild stuff out here, he was also having the time of his life with the guys. He'd do anything, _anything_ to keep that.

And maybe, if he was lucky, he wouldn't die. Then he could get home and get back to figuring out just what the hell he was gonna do with his life.

Leaning back on his arms, he stared up at the faded blue walls and the dozens of mismatched photos of Lucis. He could probably do a better job on some of these shots . . . maybe? The depth of field was way too shallow for that one shot of the landscape there, and whatever filter the photographer had used on the herd of garulas grazing in their pasture was all wrong for the mood the image was trying to capture.

Or so he thought, anyway.

He wondered if there was a market for some modern photos of Lucian geography back in Insomnia, since hardly any images were available, as they'd all found out when they heard they'd be leaving and tried to do some checking up on things. It wasn't like photographers were itching to get permission to leave the safety the of the Wall with a Crown-City-made camera to take shots of some landscapes and animals with the threat of daemons hanging over their heads. Getting permission at all to get in _or_ out, from what he'd heard, was supposed to be damn near impossible after that marilith had somehow gotten in to attack Noct as a kid. And since no one really knew how the vanishing disease was passed on, there was always this unspoken stigma about the few people who would leave and come back—like the Glaives.

Yeah, work would be fun for a while when he got back, but it'd be worth it.

He sat up straight when he heard the front door open and close, and as Laura appeared from the hallway with drooping, bloodshot eyes and a pale face, she froze, staring blankly down at the stained gray carpet for a second before marching past the three of them. Prompto thought he heard a soft, "I'm sorry," as she passed by Ignis, and he must've heard right, because Iggy's eyes widened a fraction. He whipped his head in her direction and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but he didn't get the chance to answer before she breezed into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. After a few seconds of silence, they could hear the gentle roar of the shower being turned on.

With a twitching frown, Ignis settled carefully into the black armchair in the corner of the room, staring at the bathroom door with a hard, almost angry expression. He gritted his teeth and shook his head.

"Take a sec and pray to Shiva, will ya?" Gladio advised, eyeing his stiff posture. "Chill."

"Why didn't I think to ask? I asked _all_ of you. I just assumed it was because—and it was only this afternoon that I swore that I wouldn't—and now . . . whatever the true reason for that reaction, I was most certainly the cause."

He'd never seen Iggy like this—all stuttering and frustrated instead of poised and sighing in exasperation . . . almost like . . . Prompto would get sometimes. Even though it wasn't really his business, Prompto hesitantly said, "You can't force food on _everyone_ like you do with Noct. And it's not like she's starving herself in an unhealthy way."

His brow furrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean? Beyond the occasional bite here and there, she hardly partakes of anything at all."

"You probably don't see it cause you're so close to Noct, but she's always snacking on the peas and stuff that grow wild out here while we're doing the hunts."

The temptation struck him to tell them about the way she would sometimes stagger or clutch at herself whenever one of the animals died, but he closed his mouth before the words could escape. Gladio and Noct especially gave her enough crap already, and even Iggy had expressed his disapproval a couple of times. He definitely didn't want to make things harder for her when he knew all too well how she felt being the odd one out.

 _There_ was one reason he was especially looking forward to this wedding. Hopefully when peace was declared, it wouldn't be such a huge deal if anyone ever found out he was actually from Niflheim. Maybe then he wouldn't feel like such a fake all the time.

The door opened and closed again, and the three of them looked over to the hall to watch Noct come in. His white face grew even whiter when he noticed them looking at him and froze—just like Laura had— but his eyes went wide and his mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish.

"Noct?" Iggy asked softly.

"I—You guys . . . I'm . . .."

"You okay, man?" Prompto added.

He dropped his head to stare down at his feet. "Screw it," he muttered to his boots. "You guys know you're the best, right?"

Whoa, what exactly had just happened out there?

"S-sure, buddy," Prompto finally managed. "Feeling's totally mutual, you know."

Noct sighed, still not looking up from his boots. "Yeah. I know."

Gladio stood from the bed and pulled Noct into a headlock, rubbing his fist roughly through his spiky black hair. "Hell yeah, we know."

"Hey," Noct complained, pulling away and attempting to pull his hair back up straight. "Dickhead."

"Of course we know," Iggy said delicately, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes to inspect Noct carefully. "But it's good to hear regardless. That must have been quite the chat. Would it be appropriate for you to fill us in?"

Noct trudged to his armchair and threw himself into it with a sigh.

"She's not an Advisor—or a Shield. She wasn't a Draconian priest. She is . . . she _was_. . . a _queen_."

* * *

Six damn.

It seemed like the only way to escape the awkward silence in the room after Noct had finished his story was to crawl into bed and stare up at the ceiling. That way, he wouldn't have to look at Gladio's concerned frown or Iggy's frozen blank stare, but it wasn't like his choice was a huge improvement on the atmosphere. Taking this time to contemplate the shapes of rusty waterstains pooling over the whitish texture like piss on snow wasn't exactly going to help him keep up his sunny disposition after such a shitty night.

He figured the least he could do after everything they'd heard was to take the middle and let Noct and Laura have the edges of the bed. It was more of a sacrifice on his behalf for Laura, really, since he knew he wouldn't get a wink with the way Noct tended to toss and turn. Sometimes it kinda sucked being smaller and shorter, which was the only reason he had to share with the other two smallest people while Gladio and Iggy got the other bed.

The lumpy mattress dipped as Noct settled next to him, throwing an arm over his forehead.

"Hey. You wanna play a game or somethin' before bed?" Prompto muttered, already knowing the answer. But if he could get Noct to forget about his responsibilities for a sec, he wouldn't feel so useless right now.

"Not tonight."

"Yeah, I getcha."

This Laura thing had shaken him bad, and it was easy to see why. Prompto had tried not to think too much about what Noct would have to do one day, whatever the hell that even was, but hearing what had happened to Laura, it seemed like they couldn't afford _not_ to think about it now. In a way, it was kinda cool. Noct had a destiny, a purpose in life, which was way more than Prompto could say for himself. He was gonna be the most famous king in all of history! But all the shit that came along with it, not to mention the responsibility of saving the entire world . . . that was like, way too much pressure to put on a guy.

The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam as Laura stepped into the room. Her wet hair was still seeping dark splotches onto her tight, purple t-shirt, and her skin was still glowing pink from the hot water.

And _that_ unassuming _girl_ had once been queen of an entire country. He couldn't believe it. He was only just holding her hand earlier today, what the hell?

Gladio and Iggy had both shot to their feet the second the door had opened and approached her from either side, but Gladio reached her first.

"Hey," he said gruffly, giving her one of his rare, soft and serious smiles. "C'mere." He reached down to grab her by the wrist and pulled her to his bare chest, and after a second's hesitation, she brought her hands around his back.

"Just wanna say thanks for comin' to our rescue tonight."

She chuckled and pulled back a little to punch him on the shoulder. "Who's the princess now, eh?"

"Watch it," he growled. "I'm gonna kick your ass one of these days."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Princess," she laughed, but it didn't reach her eyes

She turned toward the bed but jerked to a stop when she almost ran into Ignis, who'd been watching the exchange with the same silent, stony expression he'd had since Noct had told them what'd happened outside. Of the three of them, Prompto had the feeling that Ignis had taken Noct's news the hardest for some reason—probably because they'd been spending so much time together the past few days.

Iggy took a step back, careful not to touch her as he stood tall and rigid, and inclined his head to fix her with an intense stare. Prompto thought he might be kinda overdoing it a bit. If he'd been on the receiving end of that look, he would've run screaming into the night—daemons or no.

Ignis sucked in a breath through his nose and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, pursing his lips before trying again. What was the big deal? All he had to do was say, 'Sorry about misunderstanding the meat thing' and move on. Laura had been really nice so far about things, and it wasn't like what Iggy'd done was unforgivable.

"I . . . thank you. You have my eternal gratitude for your assistance today. I must also offer my most sincere apologies for my behavior earlier; I am at your mercy with regard to your censure. Please, let me know should you require anything at all, Your Majesty." Without giving Laura a chance to respond, he tucked his fists to his sides and bowed deeply before turning back to his bed with a deep frown and a bright flush spreading over his cheeks.

 _Yikes_.

Normally, Prompto wasn't the kinda guy who knew anything at all about royal protocol, but he'd been so nervous about meeting King Regis for the first time that he'd made the mistake of asking Iggy for advice on how to act in the throne room that day. The resulting two hour lesson had been way more than what he needed to know, but he definitely understood enough about the different bows now to know that because Iggy hadn't crossed his arm over his chest first, it had been not a pledge of loyalty but of subservience—the kind he was supposed to give at a quick, informal dismissal from King Regis or to a visiting royal from another country.

Even though Prompto was apparently the only one in the hotel room that wasn't of noble blood, Iggy was nothing like the others—maybe because it was because he'd never gone to public school or hung out with the rest of them after class. In fact, Prompto had never seen him spend free time with any friends besides Noct, where it felt like he was always on duty. The couple of times they all went out to the arcade or somewhere to eat, Iggy would drive and bring reading or paperwork to do. When they spent the night at Noct's place playing videogames or watching movies, he either cleaned, cooked, or sat off to the side typing stuff on his laptop. Sometimes, if Noct really, really pestered him, he could get Ignis to join in on the fun, but those times were about as rare as snow flurries in Insomnia. Most of his day was spent at the Citadel in briefings or meeting with Councilmembers, so he was always super formal with everyone.

Prompto thought that since they'd met Laura first as a regular person, it wouldn't be such a big deal that she was a queen, but he guessed it was to Iggy. What he'd said to her though had probably been the worst thing he could've come up with, if her expression dropping into a sharp frown before almost immediately returning to neutral was anything to go by.

She was probably just like Noct—wanting to be treated like a regular person after all she'd been through, which was probably why she hadn't told them in the first place. He tried to keep that in mind as she laid down on her back next to him, effectively sandwiching him between a prince and a queen.

"Hey," he said with a soft smile, but he was afraid it came off looking more like a grimace. She was just so _close_ —wearing nothing but those shorts and that tight t-shirt, her hair still wet and smelling strongly of some kinda floral scent.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes dull and half-lidded.

"Hey." Her voice was so soft it was almost a whisper.

As Noct turned off the light, Prompto struggled to think of some way to thank and comfort her that wouldn't make her feel creeped out or anything. He thought back to the only way he'd ever touched her—the way she'd given him permission to touch her. That would be good enough, right? He reached out for her hand in the darkness and grasped her fingers, giving them an extra tight squeeze of reassurance.

She let out a sigh, and, to his absolute terror, he heard the shuffle of her ugly blanket in the still, suddenly stifling air of the hotel room as she rolled to her side and leaned toward him. Sweet Six, what was she gonna do?

"Thank you, Prompto," she whispered in his ear before giving him a quick peck on the cheek and a returning squeeze.

He was glad for the darkness, because he knew his entire body had gone as red as a Lucian tomato. Inside his head, he was screaming—jumping up and down.

 _DUDE. I. WAS JUST KISSED. BY A QUEEN!_

It was some time before he was able to fall asleep.

* * *

The scenery seemed to change the second they'd left Longwythe and headed south to Galdin Quay—silently and hurriedly leaving the place at dawn's first light like that hole-in-the-wall town held some kinda curse. The terrain became greener and rockier—with high, grassy cliffs on his side of the car and tall, leafy trees peeking out over the ridge line. He got out his camera and removed the cap in case they passed by any cool shots, but for the time being, he leaned back into his seat, raising his face to the bright sun and letting the wind whip his hair practically flat against his head.

 _This_ was more his speed—cruising by all these incredible views in style and luxury.

As he looked through the viewfinder to capture the color contrast of a golden jagged cliff face surrounded by lush green grass before they passed it, Prompto jumped a little when he felt something hit his shoulder. He looked down to see Laura's head slumped over on him.

Weird. He hardly ever saw her sleeping, and never in the car like this.

"Laura?" he whispered. When she didn't respond, he called to Noct as softly as he could and still be heard over the wind. "Hey." But he didn't raise his head from the headrest. He carefully moved his arm up and around Laura to poke him, but that only made her fall against his chest.

Noct finally looked over at them and quirked his lips into amused smile.

"Is she all right?" he asked, hoping Noct could see her face better than he could from this angle.

"Yeah," Noct said. "Said she's gonna be like that for a while cause of last night."

Ahh—the magic she'd used. He leaned against the door, pulling her with him so she could stretch a little and get comfortable.

"Welp," he sighed, shooting Noct a self-satisfied smile, "it's a hardship, but I guess I can make the sacrifice."

Noct chuckled, "Yeah . . . you poor thing."

For his part, Prompto was trying to stay calm enough to not fidget and wake her. He wasn't stupid enough to think she'd be interested in him in _that_ way; girls went for the brooding prince when the two of them hung out.

Still, he wondered if she was single.

No, he couldn't afford to think like that with her. If he messed things up, he'd wind up making the whole trip totally awkward. She'd been nice to them this whole time, even when they hadn't been, and he was doing this to make up for avoiding her so much that first day. She'd sought his approval for her place in the group just like she had for the rest of them, and it made him feel warm inside that she considered him one of the team, like an equal to Gladio or Ignis. Plus, it was nice having a friend that liked him enough to do this with. It felt good that she needed something from him, and he couldn't imagine her sleeping on any of the others if he'd been the one sitting up front, except maybe Iggy.

Guiltily, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, and he caught Iggy's intense gaze for just a second before they both looked away.

He thought there might've been something going on with those two, but now he wasn't so sure, since it wasn't just Iggy she was getting cozy with. No matter what she did or didn't feel, he was pretty sure there was something there on Iggy's part. He hoped Iggy didn't think he was trying to stake a claim on her. It wasn't like he could ever stand a chance if even _Ignis_ couldn't make a successful move on her.

Just like he'd never stand a chance with Cindy. Sweet Shiva, was she the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his life. What could someone like him even do to win a girl like that over, anyway?

He decided to focus on someone else's love life for once and looked over at Noct, who was staring at the back of the seat in front of him with a glazed expression.

"So . . . you thinking to fairy tale Lady Lunafreya back to the Crown City?" he asked softly, hoping he wasn't bothering Laura.

Noct's expression didn't change as he gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Nah, no need to rush to happily ever after."

Oh. Right. He'd forgotten about the honeymoon, which Noct had said was gonna involve some kinda extended stay in Altissia before heading back to Galdin for a while. Noct hadn't seemed really enthused about it, but Prompto? He couldn't imagine anything more magical.

"Wow. Still can't believe you're actually tying the knot, dude! How does it feel now that it's finally happening?"

"Fine, I guess?"

"C'mon, you can't fool me. Any guy would be over the moon to marry her!" At least, he knew he would be if he were the one in Noct's position. Lady Lunafreya might have only sent Prompto one letter, but that elegant script and perfumed paper had ended up being just the words he needed to get his ass in gear, lose the weight, and become good enough to even attempt making friends with the Prince of Lucis. She was just so nice and so pretty—how could Noct not be jumping out of his skin with joy to bag a girl like her?

"No big deal," Noct muttered, leaning against the door.

"Yeah, whatever."

Did he really not get just how good he had it? Yeah, being the prince sucked sometimes, especially with all this Chosen shit, but it wasn't like there weren't huge benefits. He had a really hot car, a really cool girl, some awesome friends, and all this power at his fingertips. Why didn't he take advantage of it a little?

Laura was still asleep by the time Iggy turned onto the winding road that overlooked the hotel and quay late that afternoon. Prompto was definitely stiff from holding so still and a little restless after missing out on so many awesome photo opportunities, but he'd never breathe a word to her about it. Actually, she was usually the one pointing out the most non-obvious scenery that made some of his favorite photos: a flower in the perfect shape of a white star, the contrast between a bright green pea plant surrounded by dry desert, or Gladio doing stretches against the rising sun. He kinda wanted to wake her up now so she could do that thing where she'd get all excited at seeing someplace new as they cruised their way down to the beach, with its grand view of the ocean and a huge, curling rock far out to the horizon. But if she hadn't woken up with them talking and stuff all this time, he should probably let her sleep the last couple of minutes at least.

"Oh em gee, you guys," he said under his breath, but he doubted anyone could hear him with the top down. "It's the _ocean_. It's so big . . . and blue!" He sure hoped the ferry had an open deck so he could get some good shots on the way to Altissia—maybe a good sunset, and especially that island thing in the distance.

Iggy carefully backed into one of the covered parking spaces, and as the other three got out of the car, Prompto hesitantly squeezed Laura's shoulder, shaking her a little.

"Laura?" She inhaled and raised her eyes to him. A blotchy red spot had formed on her cheek where it'd been resting against his chest. "Hey, we made it."

She took in another deep, quick breath through her nose as she shot up off him. "Have I been on you the entire time? I'm so sorry," she said groggily. "You must be so stiff. If it happens again, just push me off, 'kay?"

"Hey, no way. You're welcome any time. Won't catch me complaining about holding a girl, either." He shot her a grin before opening the door to get out and stretch, hopping from foot to foot to get his blood moving.

"Think I lost the feeling in my ass back by Saulhend," Gladio groaned, bending over to touch his toes.

"Indeed," Iggy added with a sigh. His eyes flickered briefly over to Prompto and Laura to give them a quick, sharp look Prompto couldn't identify before he turned away, leading them toward the boardwalk. Oh shit, was he mad at them both now? "Let us stretch our legs and walk down to the ferry. We can check the schedules posted before we decide how to handle the rest of the day."

Prompto didn't miss the way Laura's eyes seemed to linger on Iggy's back, a frown pulling down the corner of her lips, before she followed after them.

The five of them strolled unhurriedly up the boardwalk . . . well, four of them. Prompto just couldn't keep still! Shadows of cool-looking fish flashed just beneath the surface of the jewel-blue water on one side of the dock, people wrestled and laughed in the frothing surf on the other, couples dressed to the nines strolled hand-in-hand away from the restaurant as they discussed the "absolutely breathtaking" views, and the scent of buttery fish wafted toward them from what had to be the restaurant.

"Is this place amazing or what!?" he laughed joyously, slapping Noct's shoulder.

Iggy looked back at them, his hair dancing forward to floof out as the wind caught the back of his head. "The breeze is quite refreshing."

"Didn't think I'd enjoy the seaside this much," Noct mumbled as he eyed the dock in the distance. "Think we'll have time to do some fishing while we're here?"

"I very much doubt it, but I won't discount the possibility," Iggy replied. "In case you forgot, we came here to cast off, not cast a line, but perhaps this evening, if the protection of the lights extends to the dock."

Prompto really, really hoped they'd missed the last ferry for the day and Iggy was still tempted to stay at this place. It looked awesome! The open-aired building that seemed to float on top of the ocean, with its warm wooden beams weathered by salt and wind, made for the perfect lighting for pictures, especially if he managed to catch the colors of the sunset glittering off the surface of the water. He definitely wanted to try some of whatever that smell was, and even though he wasn't that great a swimmer, he still wanted to wade in the surf or something before doing something luxurious, like getting a massage. It'd be nice to live in the lap of luxury a little before he had to go back home.

"I'm afraid you're out of luck," an oozy, mocking voice cut into his fantasy. Lost in visions of five-star meals and getting pampered, Prompto hadn't really been paying attention to the guy standing in the middle of the stairs leading to the restaurant until he'd said something.

The strange man's purplish-red hair glowed oddly in the late afternoon sun, and the whacky collection of mismatched clothes and weird patterns made him kinda look like a clown-hobo who'd taken fashion advice from Iggy after he'd had too much wine—with his white undershirt that reminded Prompto of Altissian blinds, the layers of holey and mismatching patterned scarves, and the faded trench coat. But it was more than the guy's clothes or the oily way he smiled that made Prompto take a step back toward Laura. It wasn't even the way he reeked of dust and lingering stale cologne so strongly that Prompto had to rub at his nose to keep from sneezing. There was something personal and more than a little creepy about this dude's expression as he looked at each of them one by one. He was clearly sizing them up, and Prompto had to fight the urge to look away and rub at the itchy, burning tears welling up in his eyes just in case this guy pulled something.

He breathed through his mouth to keep from sneezing in the guy's face as those unnaturally golden eyes lingered on him like he knew him or something.

"The boats bring you here?" he asked with a swishy hand raised in the air. "Well, they'll not take you forth."

When Laura stepped between Prompto and the stranger, his attention snapped to her immediately, his smirk creeping up into a leering smile as they stared each other down. Laura, usually so friendly with strangers in town, had gone rigid, her hands stiff at her sides like she was ready to summon her swords at any second. Her tension put Prompto on edge. His fingers began to twitch at his sides, anticipation for whatever was about to happen stretching him tight like a wire ready to snap.

Prompto would be the first to admit that he wasn't exactly an expert in body language, but it looked like they were challenging each other or something. He just hoped he wouldn't lose his nerve and summon his gun to his hand right here in front of everybody unless it was necessary.

"And what's your story?" Gladio asked suspiciously.

The stranger waited a few beats before breaking eye contact with Laura, and it was only then that Prompto was able to relax a little.

"I'm an impatient traveler, ready to turn ship," he said casually, strolling through the middle of their group toward the boardwalk. Laura leapt forward between the stranger and Noct, pushing him behind her and glowering, but the creep only flashed her a knowing grin. "The ceasefire's getting us nowhere, and you boys are no doubt eager to be on your way to _wherever_ you're going before it grows too cold."

What in Ifrit's cursed inferno was this guy talking about? Before it gets cold? And what was up with Laura? Sure, the guy was a creep, but he hadn't made a move toward anyone. And if being a creep was all it took, she definitely should've attacked Takka by now, since that guy seemed to jump every time Noct showed up at his counter.

He felt like he was missing some deeper level to this whole thing, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was about.

"Actually, we're just here for the view and the restaurant, but thanks for the info," she said in a hard voice, and the stranger's eyes widened a little before exposing his teeth in a slow grin.

"Of course," he said, touching the brim of his hat with a mocking bow. "Forgive me for assuming. It is but a cold comfort that I cannot be of any more assistance to you with these rather unfortunate events."

Actually, that was kind of a good point. How _had_ the clowny creep known they were there for the ferries? He'd come from inside the restaurant, so there was no way he could have heard Iggy's comments about checking the schedule all the way from the shack by the parking lot.

Gladio must've made the connection at the same time, because he took a step forward and narrowed his eyes at the stranger. "Who are you?"

The stranger directed his answer toward Laura instead, and his smile seemed to grow a fraction. "A man of no consequence," he replied airily. He removed his hat in a flourish at her before turning and ambling down the boardwalk in the direction they'd come from.

Prompto waited until the creep had sauntered far enough away before he reached out to touch Laura's arm.

"Hey. You okay?"

She kept her eyes locked on the back of the stranger's long, swaying coat. "Yeah."

"What was that about?"

"That guy just really rubbed me the wrong way."

It was the first time she'd ever said something he didn't completely believe. It felt to Prompto like they'd met a lot of weirdos out here, but she was always pretty hands-off when it came to protecting Noct. Six, she'd waited until they were all seconds away from dying before stepping in just last night, so why all the caution now?

"Yeah," Gladio said, "he was definitely a creep."

"His comments regarding the ceasefire concern me. I expected the treaty to be signed by now. I do hope everything is still going smoothly in negotiations," Iggy said with a frown.

"You heard anything since we left Hammerhead?"

"Nothing."

"Let's just look at the schedule and find out if he was lying or not," Noct said.

But it turned out that the weirdo had been right. All ferries from Altissia to Lucis had been suspended by Empire, which really seemed to concern Iggy. Luckily, they'd come across a reporter that had the connections to help them out—as long as they helped him out in return. Him blackmailing to out Noct as the Prince of Lucis was kinda shitty, but it wasn't like they had a choice except to play along. They couldn't afford to miss the wedding with the treaty between two countries riding on it.

They had Dino mark the map for his errand before they collected a couple of bounties from the chef Coctura and headed out.

"That Coctura chick was pretty nice, but what about that reporter guy?" Prompto asked as they made their way over the long boardwalk back to the car. "He's really got your number, Noct."

"Not like we made much effort to keep our identities a secret," Gladio said.

"Even if we had, the press _always_ finds a way," Ignis said, rolling his eyes. He summoned the car keys as they approached the car port and let out a long sigh. "We needn't befriend him, but we'd best not make him our enemy."

"Which means another errand to run," Noct said.

"It's not like we have a choice," Laura said wearily. "He's our only means of getting off the continent right now."

Gladio hopped in the front seat and immediately reached for the control that would put the top down. "Maybe Cid was right about your lack of dignity, Noct."

"Yeah," Prompto laughed. "You're one step above delivery boy."

"Royal rank carries little weight outside the Crown City," Ignis said.

Noct leaned against the doorframe and looked out over cape shimmering in the sunset. "Glad it's not weighing me down."

"So what's the plan?" Gladio asked, turning to Iggy.

"It's . . . up to Noct."

"A lot of Coctura's stuff was daemons," Prompto complained. "Looks like it's gonna be _another_ all-nighter for us."

Seriously, even though he felt better about hunting down daemons instead of animals, there'd been a reason why they'd been told not to be out after dark. From what he'd heard, one of those iron giants could pop out and squish the five of them flat inside the Regalia before they even had a chance to open their doors.

"Well, uh . . . we gotta look for the gem for Dino, right? So we need daylight for that," Noct said.

"Correct," Iggy replied.

"So do the hunts first, I guess, and we'll get the gem in the morning when the sun comes up."

"Very well, Highness, and I believe the bounties will be enough to have earned us back our holiday before we leave."

"Really?" Prompto asked.

"Indeed. We'll catch some rest at the haven on the beach as soon as we're finished, and depending on when Dino is able to procure tickets for our passage, we can check in to the hotel the night before."

"Woohoo! You hear that, Noct? A night in the lap of luxury!"

"Yeah, real beds," Noct sighed.

"A _clean_ shower," Laura said.

"A tub," Iggy added. "And after having observed Ms. Arlund behind the counter, I must insist on completing our celebration of His Highness's upcoming nuptials with one of her famously delicious seafood meals."

"Did you know she has her own cooking magazine? _Coctura's Kitchen_ , it's called," Laura said, leaning forward a little in her seat. "I picked up a copy for you to peruse in case you wanted to collect any of her recipes."

The car was quiet for a couple of seconds, and Prompto held his breath, waiting for Iggy's response. It'd been the first time since either of them had spoken directly to each other since the night before. Prompto still didn't get what their problem was, but they all knew _something_ was going on between them because of last night's events.

Iggy's voice grew distant and formal. "You have my thanks, Your Majesty. It's true I've been collecting local recipes on our journey as a souvenir and memento, of sorts. Olfactory and gustatory senses are very strongly tied to memory, after all."

Laura flinched at his tone and looked down at her lap. "You're welcome," she muttered.

Prompto looked back and forth between the two, frowning. Iggy was the smartest, most observant guy Prompto had ever met in his life. He was just so . . . _amazing_ at everything. He could somehow tell when Noct had had a bad day before he even got all the way through the door, so why didn't he realize that being all stiff with Laura was hurting her feelings? It was weird seeing him out here, out of his element, making mistakes, but it almost made him seem human for once. He wished he could do something to help smooth things over, but he barely knew Laura, and trying to figure Iggy out was about as pointless as keeping one of those goblins from last night as a pet.

He'd have to think of something to get everyone on good terms again. Laura being a queen seemed like a pretty stupid reason to give her the cold shoulder.

"Get your camera ready," Laura whispered. "You see those arches up there?"

"Yeah?" he said, nodding to where two arches crossed over the road just ahead of them. He got out his camera and took off the cap.

"If you turn around when we pass them, you'll get a shot of them framing the colors of the sunset. Might even be able to get Noct in the shot if you time it right."

"Oooh, thanks!"

* * *

By the time they approached the spot on the map that Dino had marked, the sky was turning the prettiest shade of light blue as the sun was preparing to rise. At least the possibility of running across any more daemons was off the table, because he was dead on his feet, but he wished he had a better view of the dawn through the tops of the cliffs that towered above even the footbridge spanning the road that they were taking to this place.

Gladio somehow had enough energy left after a full night out and was helping to keep Laura awake by telling her about a prank he'd once pulled, a story Prompto had heard at least five times before from Noct, so he stayed quiet and kept an eye out for where Dino's gem might be hiding.

"So we knew they'd been hookin' up in the showers after training for like a week now," Gladio was saying, elbowing Laura's shoulder.

"So of course you decided you had to do something about it."

"Hell yeah! We all shower in there, thank you very much! So Richardson got the idea to take the spice powder outta my Cup Noodle and pour it in the shower head, then cap it back on . . .."

"Oh gods."

"They. smelled like. chickatrice for like. two days!" Gladio laughed, cracking up so hard he could barely get the words out.

"Those poor people . . .."

"Hey, that's life in the Crownsg—"

 _WHOOSH._

Gladio and Laura immediately fell silent. Laura cocked her head and closed her eyes to listen like she always did when they were out tracking. After several seconds, she pointed to the entrance of a tunnel that looked like it'd been blasted through the cliffside.

"Through there. An animal of some kind," she whispered.

"How could you possibly know—" Iggy began.

Noct shook his head and said just as softly, "It doesn't matter. We gotta head that way anyway, see?" He pointed to the map that indicated the gem could be found just on the other side—of course. Prompto eyed the dark opening hesitantly. It didn't look too long according to the map, but it didn't exactly excite him that they were headed toward the whooshing animal in the small, dark, cramped space.

"S-s-sure hope there's a l-light at the end of this, eh guys?"

"Don't go into the light, Prompto," Iggy said softly as the darkness swallowed him whole, but he was immediately lit from behind as he turned on his travel light.

"Very funny."

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned his trusty handgun, watching the shimmering magic sparkle around his hand before it disappeared. Sweet Six, that would never stop looking cool. Prompto didn't even get the chance to switch on his light, because as Ignis and Noct crept around the curve of the stone, Ignis turned back toward them.

"The end of the passage is just through here, and I believe we've discovered the source of the sound."

Panic seized him as he caught up and peered around Noct's shoulder. "Oh. Em. Gee," he squeaked, his voice going high-pitched like he hated when he was freaked out, but he couldn't help it. A wall of glossy black feathers in the clearing just beyond the tunnel's opening blocked out most of the new daylight, and it was moving up and down in time to the deep breaths wheezing over the cold, echoing stone.

That bird. It was totally that enormous bird they'd spotted outside Hammerhead while they were hunting a few days ago.

"We're supposed to get near that thing?!" he demanded.

They were sooo gonna die.

"Pipe down before you wake it up," Gladio growled under his breath.

Laura, who was obviously a nutcase and hadn't even summoned a weapon, placed a hand over Noct's wrist as it tightened on his sword hilt.

"I beg of you," she whispered, "please don't kill it unless it's a matter of life and death. Please, Noctis, just this once. It's sleeping, and we've just come in here and—"

Noct nodded and waved for her to be silent.

Did that mean they weren't gonna attack it? Oh, thank the Six. He wasn't sure he could handle another near-death experience so soon after the first.

To his relief, Noct dismissed his sword and motioned for the rest of them to do the same, but he saw the flaw in this change of events as he reluctantly put his handgun back in the armiger. Yeah, he sure as hell didn't wanna wake it up, but he kinda enjoyed the comforting, familiar weight of a weapon in his hand as they approached an animal as big as his house.

Noct must've been nervous too, because instead of whispering instructions when he cleared the tunnel, he checked the map one more time, pointed to his eyes, then to the ground surrounding the bird.

Great, Dino's stupid fucking gem would probably be nestled underneath the damn thing too, while they were at it. He bet Dino had known about this bird all along and just hadn't warned them about it. Why else wouldn't he have driven out here to pick up the thing himself?

The sun climbed higher in the sky as they searched, and Prompto ended up using the corner of his vest to wipe the sweat off his face before applying the sunscreen Iggy had just wordlessly handed him. There'd been about twenty times this morning when he'd sworn he'd almost pissed himself when he thought he saw the bird open its eyes—not that that had stopped him from getting out his camera for a couple of selfies and portraits of them all crouched in front of the snoring beast. He was starting to think maybe the gem really _was_ underneath the black wall of death that had been keeping them company all morning. Maybe they'd have to fight it after all, just to get it to move. He crept closer, carefully inspecting the fluttering feathers beating against the grass with the bird's every breath. Wouldn't it be awesome if he was the one who found the gem? He could be the hero of the morning, and then they could all go catch some shut-eye.

A sudden great whoosh of breath and a jerk of the animal's ribs sent Prompto stumbling backwards on his ass into the dirt. He sucked in a quick, silent breath as the thing's head snapped up a little. His heart pounded hard enough against his throat to make him feel sick, and when a hand came outta nowhere and clamped around his mouth, he was kinda surprised at the instinct to bite it and let loose a scream.

But Laura spoke before he could make good on it.

"Shh, it's okay," she whispered into his ear. When he relaxed, she let him go and helped him to his feet. "Gladio's found it. Let's get out of here."

His disappointment at not being the one to finish this errand vanished at the thought that they could now get the hell out of here and crash into a pillow somewhere. He nodded and silently scurried past the monster one last time, following behind Noct and Laura back into the tunnel. It was only once they'd made it back to the Regalia that he was able to breathe again, but his hands trembled in his lap, and he felt like he was gonna be sick from being on edge for so long.

"Dino's totally a jerk!" Prompto broke the silence as the last door shut behind them.

"Least we got the goods," Noct said.

As Laura sat back in the seat and closed her eyes, Prompto leaned forward to stare over at him in disbelief. "Dude! How can you be so calm right now?"

"I dunno. It's over, I guess?"

"Yes, and now we can get some rest before seeing Dino," Iggy said as he pulled the car out onto the road and did a smooth U-turn back toward Galdin. "Perhaps we should stay in the caravan rather than setting up at the haven so as to get right to the business of eating and sleeping."

"Hell yeah," Gladio agreed. "Could pass out right now."

It took just about everything Prompto had in him to stay awake long enough for Iggy to head to the shack by the boardwalk to pay and get the keys to the camper, but when Laura immediately staggered to one of the six bunks and flopped into an unconscious heap, he felt obligated to take her place and keep Iggy company. He collapsed against the wall of the enclosed bench near the front door, willing his eyes to stay open as Iggy worked on slicing a pre-made loaf of bread he'd gotten from somewhere.

His nausea seemed to have only gotten worse on the drive back, now helped along by the moldy, stale smelling camper and his heavy head, but still he managed to mumble, "Hey, Iggy, you need any help with that?"

Iggy's knife paused over the bread for a second. "No, thank you. But I do sincerely appreciate the offer."

Did Iggy not like him helping in the kitchen or something? Prompto wasn't the greatest cook in the world—it wasn't like he could even touch Ignis's skill level—but he could get by making the staples . . . especially _toast_. He noticed Iggy had allowed Laura to help him with no issues on the very first day out of the city, so maybe he just thought Prompto was completely useless in the kitchen or something.

He frowned at the thought and chased it away with a shake of his head. He'd prove himself to these guys somehow—he hoped.

There was something comforting about finishing off a night of hunting with Iggy's home cooking—something Prompto hadn't had much of in his life besides what he managed to make for himself. He'd always dreamed of walking through the front door of his house to a meal prepared by his parents just for him, just like all the characters on TV.

He hadn't tried much of Iggy's food back in Insomnia, but everything had been incredible so far after living off salads and whatever he had that could be thrown together easily and served with rice. The eggs were so fluffy, warm, and cheesy—and they were light enough that they seemed to calm his flip-flopping stomach. And the toast—even his toast was somehow fancy, which suited a classy guy like him. Prompto didn't know what it was about Iggy's bread, but it was different from any other bread he'd ever had in his life—sweet, malty, and earthy.

"You really know how to make some great stuff, Iggy," he mumbled sleepily into his plate, and Gladio nodded in agreement as he shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"It's nothing special, really," Iggy said toward his plate, "but you have my gratitude." His slight smile fell to a frown when his eyes darted up toward the camper.

Then an idea suddenly popped into Prompto's head—a way to get the two of them talking again.

"Maybe you should take her foraging when she wakes up," he suggested, but hesitated when those expressionless green eyes fell on him. "Um . . . you know, she's always nibbling on the plants she knows when we're walking around. Maybe you could teach her about the ones in this area after we get the tickets from Dino."

After a moment, Ignis nodded and looked back toward the rear of the camper where the bunks were. "Perhaps—if we find the time."


	10. Chapter 10

Ignis had no idea how one evaluated a line cast into a body of water as endless as an ocean; he had only learned from years of watching Noct pull in the pre-caught fish from the small pond just beyond the solarium portion of the Citadel gardens. But despite his ignorance, he still said, "Excellent cast, Noct," as the Prince's line plunked beneath the choppy, turquoise waves several yards away.

"How do you even know where to throw that thing?" Prompto asked, looking up from his phone.

Noct shrugged. "Dunno." Tapping a finger to his temple, he added, "Angler's instinct. Like I got a radar up in here or somethin'."

"Someone's been talkin' to that crazy fisher guy too much, if you ask me," Gladio said.

"Nah, Navyth's cool. Gave me a few new lures yesterday. Told me I should try and catch this one huge fish that hangs around here—the Devil of the Cygillan."

"Sounds like a daemon." Prompto's voice grew tremulous as he eyed the grey, worn dock boards surrounded by water. "You don't think there's daemon fish, do you?"

"Not in the daylight, of course," Ignis answered. "It sounds as though Mr. Arlund has tasked us with bigger fish to fry than clearing the waters of daemon infestation."

"Still think you should've respooled the line before it's too late. You're gonna lose the fish if you manage to hook it," Gladio grumbled from his spot by the last pylon, where he'd been sitting cross-legged for the last several hours.

"Will you relax already? It's barely worn," Noct said under his breath. "And be quiet; you're scaring all the fish. Gotta hook at least one more for lunch, since we _apparently_ won't be gettin' any of that gourmet seafood Ignis has been promising until tonight."

Ignis sighed. As Dino had been unable to secure them tickets to Altissia for a couple of days, Ignis had reluctantly moved their group from caravan to the haven at the end of the beach in an effort to save funds. Though this meant that His Highness would have ample opportunity to hold the three of them hostage as he partook in his favorite pastime, his expressions of displeasure had hardly ceased since.

"We gotta save our funds for Altissia. Doubt there's gonna be any spots to camp there, so we gotta be able to pay a hotel bill until His Highness can get hitched," Gladio said with a smirk.

"I imagine the Accordion government, acting as the host for the celebration, will provide accommodations," Ignis said, leaning heavily against the pylon opposite Gladio and crossing his arms. "Still, I'd rather not rely on assumptions, with the way our luck has run these past two weeks. I would prefer to have a cache of cash saved, just in case."

"I think things've been pretty good, actually," Noct answered.

"Yeah, I been sleepin' amazing right on the beach like this," Prompto added, letting his gaze drift over the gentle waves lapping at the white sandy shore. "Wouldn't've thought the waves would knock me right out, but they do."

Though he, too, had appreciated the stunning haven scenery and warm breezes these past couple of days, Ignis tutted disapprovingly and glanced over at Gladio, the only other person present who wasn't completely oblivious to the precarious situation they were in, but he was staring blankly down at his trousers, having long grown bored with keeping Noct company.

Ignis didn't wish to set Prompto or Noct into a panic, if such a thing was even possible, but it alarmed him far more than he let on that the Empire was no longer allowing ferries to land in Galdin from Altissia. For the past one hundred and fifty years, the Empire had built Galdin into a destination resort by allowing open trade with Accordo, and even though Niflheim had long ago shifted toward air-based transportation, the once tiny fishing village had grown dependent on regular shipments of goods and tourists alike from across the seas. He couldn't see any strategic advantage to halting vessels just before the treaty was signed—the only explanation he could imagine for such a scenario would be for hostile reasons.

If they couldn't make it to Altissia in time, if something were to happen and this treaty were to fall through . . . Ignis would _personally_ be responsible for the fall of his liege's kingdom. He likely _should_ ask Laura for her opinion on the matter, since she apparently had extensive diplomatic experience, but he'd grown comfortable with their distance these past few days, even if the desire to make reparations chafed at him every evening he would normally have spent with her. Besides, he needed facts, not conjecture.

It seemed that life out here in the wild was no different from back home—the fate of the Chosen rested in his hands alone, and he was responsible for pretending he wasn't halfway unraveled. Only this time, he had been dumped in a world full of strange people and customs, new ideas and ways of thinking, aspects of life he'd long held to be true being questioned . . . it was beginning to overwhelm him. As much as he wished he could be the self-sufficient advisor he'd always been in Insomnia, he had decided that should this deal with Dino fall through, he would immediately use a landline at the hotel and seek guidance from his uncle or the Marshal for getting off the continent. If he recalled correctly, King Regis and his retinue had managed to do so in a time of full-scale war by means of a royal yacht and a secret harbor somewhere . . ..

"So . . . there's something I kinda don't understand," Prompto said. "The Queen of Tenebrae's dead, right? And Lady Lunafreya's their princess, right? Like, the one who takes her place?"

"Yep," Gladio answered.

"So if Lady Lunafreya just left for Altissia, who's in charge of Tenebrae right now? Who's gonna take over when she comes to Lucis?"

"The political situation in Tenebrae is complicated," Ignis answered. He took a moment to distill his thoughts to their simplest elements, as he knew Prompto was likely to grow impatient with a thorough explanation. "House Fleuret had been permitted by the Empire for some number of decades to maintain a certain level of autonomy—until the assassination attempt that led to Queen Sylva's death. The country is completely under the Empire's authority now, House Fleuret reduced to no more than a figurehead, though the people still swear their allegiance to the Oracle line. It's why Lady Lunafreya is sometimes referred to as a princess—in deference to the titles recently taken from them."

"Uhh, yeah, that does sound kinda complicated."

"I didn't know that," Noct said. "Thought she just . . . I dunno, changed it or something."

Of course, there was always the possibility that the Deputy High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret, Lady Lunafreya's elder brother, might take control over the government if the Empire trusted him enough to do so, but the people would still likely protest, as the ruling seat had always gone to the child blessed by the gods to become the next Oracle—male or female, eldest or youngest. But the very nature of this arrangement troubled Ignis the more he thought its consequences out to the future. The likelihood of the next Oracle coming from the union of House Caelum and House Fleuret rather than a pairing with Lord Ravus was strong indeed, which meant that the Empire would hold a loose claim over Lucis's future monarchs. That claim would hold potential for slowly weakening the barrier between what was left of Lucis and Niflheim as their ruling family spread out to stake their toothless, symbolic claims over kingdoms that no longer truly existed—until Niflheim bloodlessly, silently absorbed their kingdom.

They couldn't hold the future Oracle behind the Wall, surely, but they would certainly need to take precautions against such an undermining of the royal family.

One step at a time. The marriage first. The declaration of peace. Then he could worry about everything else.

"Things are actually more complicated than I thought," Noct said in a low, distressed tone, not looking at any of them. "Turns out Dad isn't that great a king here in the outlands." He sighed deeply and looked out along the shoreline, watching the long, leggy palms sway in the ocean breeze.

Troubled, Ignis cast a quick look at Prompto, who bit his lip, then Gladio, who pursed his mouth disapprovingly, but made no move to say anything. Ignis took a step closer to the Prince, searching for an answer that would reassure him.

"There was much about the outlanders' lives I regrettably didn't understand when we first left the city," he said gently. "So, too, do I believe that they likewise do not understand the burdens the royal family must bear. In this world where the Old Wall and the Kings of Yore are myth, how can they know the price your father pays to protect what he can?"

"Iggy's right. Don't let 'em getcha down," Prompto added.

"Just make sure you learn from your old man's mistakes when it's your turn," Gladio said.

Ignis turned back to Noct, who was looking up at him with an unreadable, wide-eyed expression. "True. Though it may be too late to make reparations with outlanders, as they are due to become Niflians any day now, we will approach the Council as soon as we return to ensure that these injustices do not continue within our walls. The fault lies with King Regis's advisors for not informing him of the unrest, not with the King himself, surely."

"Yeah," Noct sighed. "You're probably right. I just don't like the way people are talking about him."

"Maybe they'll better understand his intentions when there's peace," Gladio said.

Prompto groaned a little as he stretched his arms up high over his head, effectively cutting through the morose atmosphere. He reached behind him for the bag of snacks he and Noct had brought out to the dock with them, where they'd done far more eating than fishing, in Ignis's opinion. "In the meantime, since it's _apparently_ gonna be a while before lunch anyway . . .."

With a violent crackling followed by a puff of fake fried seafood aroma Ignis swore he wasn't imagining from this distance, Prompto opened the small mylar package and began obnoxiously crunching on an unnaturally orange cracker.

"You're scaring the fish," Noct mumbled, but he still reached down to snatch a cracker of his own.

"'Tesoro d'Altissia Crab and Fish Crackers.' Seriously?" Gladio asked, leaning forward to squint at the package. "We've got fresh fish in the armiger and more on the way, and you're eating this?"

"Don't knock it till you've tried it," Noct replied around his mouthful of cracker.

"Honestly, would it be so detrimental to the conversation if His Highness waited to swallow before speaking?" Ignis asked.

"Yes," Noct shot back. "Where's Laura, by the way?"

Laura—Noct's preferred method of steering the conversation away from himself ever since Longwythe, but the tactic was rather effective, as the mere mention of her name bore with it the weight of Ignis's mortification and the unsettling feeling that he hadn't yet handled the situation to his satisfaction. He'd been glad for her absence, as it had given him time to grow accustomed to the creeping horror that would break over him with every moment he recalled spending with her—now colored with the knowledge that he'd made an absolute prat of himself in front of royalty. As it was, he hadn't been able to manage a personal word to her since that night, knowing that he had slept, likely drooling, on the head a sovereign monarch the very first night they'd left the city. And that was to say nothing of everything else he'd allowed her to assist him with.

Her help had been a guilty relief at the time, freeing him up to increase his studies of the area and get more sleep—even engage in better combat, but the shame of knowing that a queen had been compensating for his indolence whenever she had found those secret spare moments to do so struck a severe blow to his pride.

He suppressed the scowl he wished to respond with and instead answered, "I'm not certain. Likely pussyfooting with that cat you two have taken a shine to."

"She can't even be here when we kill fish?" Noct asked incredulously. "I mean, one of these is _for_ that cat, anyway."

"Hey," Gladio barked, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Watch it. That girl saved your life. She doesn't wanna sit around and play adoring audience, she doesn't have to."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed.

That evening in Longwythe had been the crowning event in the series of events Ignis would rather not be reminded of. Though he still believed her refusal to hunt to be somewhat ridiculous, he deeply regretted that she'd been forced to compromise her personal philosophies to compensate for their inadequacies. That she had been willing to take action despite her reservations in order to protect Noct, however, had earned his profound respect.

But how had he repaid her? By demanding she eat his meal as though he were a child throwing a tantrum to get attention. His memory would often cycle over that humiliating conversation for him, taunting him with how he hadn't noticed the blindingly obvious staring him in the face. Yes, he'd noticed at the time that the foods she'd chosen tended to trend toward his lighter breakfast foods, but so engrossed was he in the game of figuring her out on his own that the thought hadn't even occurred to him to ask after her typical diet when she wasn't feeling ill.

Gods, the indignity of it _all_.

Fortunately, she seemed to have sensed his need for space these past few days and had chosen instead to assist Gladio or Prompto in their tasks, but he often found evidence of her labors on his behalf throughout the day—garlic that had already been peeled waiting for him on his prep table, a steaming cup of coffee sitting next to the camp stove in the morning, a fresh loaf of bread sitting on the counter when he was expected to make breakfast after a long night of hunting.

She couldn't possibly know her quiet kindness merely added to the completeness of his disgrace.

"She's agreed to meet with us after lunch to assist in taking the campsite down," Ignis said. Pulling out his mobile, he checked the time. "Which was _supposed_ to be ready to eat in fifteen minutes."

"Can't rush it if the fish aren't biting, Specs," Noct said. "I'm kinda not hungry anyway."

"Yeah, me neither," Prompto said, tossing the shredded wrapper back into the snack bag. "Weird."

"Cause you two haven't stopped eatin' since you sat down," Gladio pointed out.

"You know . . .," Noct began mischievously, "you guys _could_ go back to the haven and pack up while we finish here."

"Better than sittin' around here starin' at the water all day," Gladio said, hauling himself to his feet.

Ignis thought about pointing out that if they were skipping lunch, it would hardly be necessary for them to fish anymore, and they could all return to pack up the haven together. But he paused. At the very least, he owed it to Laura to take her foraging as Prompto had suggested the other day, particularly as the chef de cuisine at Mother of Pearl, where they were supposed to be dining this evening, was known for her seafood, not her vegetarian dishes.

Come to think of it, he should prepare her something filling before supper, if she was willing to eat it. He could attempt to make amends and ensure she was taken care of for the rest of the day without having to hear Noct's disappointment at his choice in fare.

And to be honest with himself, he would be grateful for the reduced audience. She never reacted the way he expected her to whenever they spoke, and he thought it best that he prepare his simple veggie stir-fry and ask her to accompany him with as few people around as possible. He wasn't completely certain whether she would be interested or insulted at his request, so it would be best to reduce the number of witnesses to his potential failure.

"Very well. Meet us at the Mother of Pearl at eight o'clock—sharp," he said, already turning toward the haven. "And do be certain to dress appropriately for the venue."

"Yeah, yeah."

He'd made it off the dock and just past the fishing shack, scowling a little when his stride slipped momentarily on the silky white sand, when Gladio caught up with him and slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Hey. Hope all the 'packing up the haven' shit's an excuse for you fixin' whatever stick you got shoved up your ass about Laura."

Ignis tilted his head to glare at him over the rim of his glasses. "I'm afraid I don't take the meaning of your . . . rather colorful declaration."

"I mean I'll handle the haven while you take her for a walk and talk out whatever the hell this is. It's gettin' weird. And for fuck's sakes, stop usin' all that royal protocol shit on her. Guy as observant as you should notice she doesn't like it."

He had noticed, in fact, that light dying in her eyes every time he spoke to her as of late. But despite his behavior since leaving Insomnia suggesting otherwise, Ignis had received rigorous, specialized training as a child that would not allow him to treat a royal casually—particularly a guest of his liege. He really only used Noct's given name because Noct preferred it, and even then, Ignis often used his title from the sheer force of his upbringing. However, Noct had never displayed pain at its use, either, which made Laura's case an anomaly in Ignis's eyes.

"I handle it," he said curtly, picking up his pace toward the haven, though he wished he had the confidence that his tone held. He could see the site just up ahead—as well as the dark-haired girl already beginning to disassemble the tent.

"You better—'specially since you're the reason she's still with us in the first place."

He took his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket to wipe the light sheen of sweat that had formed on his brow despite the afternoon breeze before stepping up on the haven ramp and catching her attention, "Would you care to accompany me on a foraging trip?"

She froze and looked up at him in surprise. "What?"

"I'm eager to find some rarer local ingredients which our armiger does not yet possess," he explained, hoping he didn't sound quite as inane as he thought he did, "and I thought you might still be interested in learning more about our kingdom."

He thought he could hear Gladio snort at his words, but he ignored his reaction in favor of the woman straightening in front of him.

"Yes, I think that's a very good idea," she enunciated carefully—almost warily. He somehow doubted it was the foraging that she thought would be a good idea.

"Please, after you," He gave her a small, courteous bow and gestured for her to lead the way off the haven ramp. She shot him a wounded look as she passed, but complied wordlessly.

For the next two hours as they walked together, he was a paragon of professionalism, instructing her on the finer points of finding chocobeans, sweet peppers, and aegir roots among the grassy, breezy cliff faces. Despite the tension, the walk itself was cleansing to him, as the fresh, salty air tasted invigorating on his tongue and the sweet relief of jagged green bluffs and whispering palms after so many days of desiccated brownness brightened his vision.

In the small hopes that she would reveal one of her unimaginable wonders and include him in the discovery, Ignis allowed her to lead them, and she did seem to be steering them in a particular direction—past the winding road leading down to the bay and up the natural stone bridges spanning the cliff edges. Even through his cool demeanor, he couldn't hold back a secret shiver of anticipation at what she might show him next.

But for the moment, she was upset with him, and it was long past due for him to rectify the situation—somehow.

"Please, Ignis," she huffed impatiently when he held out a hand to stop her from bending to collect several vibrant red peppers from a plant by their feet, "I know you didn't bring me out here just to teach me the plants and not even let me lift a finger to harvest anything. Let me be of some use."

He knelt to collect the peppers as quickly and efficiently as possible—just as she'd taught him, and replied automatically, "I wouldn't hear of it, Majesty."

He regretted his response the moment the word had left his lips, but it was too late to recall it. Surely, he ought to have found a more graceful way by now to handle the situation he'd found himself in, but he'd never allowed himself to develop such a close, casual rapport with anyone before being forced to recant like this. Her blatant dislike for royal protocol wasn't helping matters as he frantically attempted to retreat to more familiar ground.

Honestly, this was what came of trusting people.

Furtively chancing a glance up at her, Ignis met her troubled eyes.

"Please," she whispered, "please don't do this—whatever this is."

He looked back down at the plant and snapped off the remaining two peppers. "Why didn't you tell me?" he inquired softly, not completely successfully concealing a hint of accusation from his tone. But for as much as he wished for an answer from her, he was careful to keep his tone subservient, his eyes downcast. If he hadn't had the right to ask questions of His Majesty's emissary before, he certainly couldn't demand anything of her now.

"Why do you think?" She bent to place her hand beneath his elbow, silently requesting him to stand. He obeyed, and when she moved into his line of sight to look up at him with a pleading expression, he didn't avert his eyes. "I didn't want _this_ ," she said, gesturing to him. "I wanted _you_."

He breathed in at the possible double meaning of her words, but immediately smothered that bubbling buoyant sensation rising from his gut. Of course, she hadn't meant it in _that_ sense. Dull and stiff as he was, he hadn't managed to make friends back home, so what on Eos could he possibly bring to a friendship with her?

Perhaps a change in topic would be the best way forward for now. Based on her food choices thus far, he'd made several deductions regarding her diet, which he'd used in planning his meals the past several days to ensure that she needn't resort to foraging like a bird. But especially with Laura, any shred of ambiguity must be quashed lest he embarrass himself further.

"Prompto alerted me the other night to the possibility that I may have overlooked your dietary requirements. I must ask for your forgiveness once again for my abhorrent behavior."

"It was my fault for not saying anything. I thought I was making things easier for you, but I should've known you'd take this personally. Please don't. I swear, I'm not offended in the slightest."

"Just so we're clear, you're an ovo-lacto vegetarian, correct? If you would also be so kind as to inform me of your preferences, I shall endeavor to learn all I can to see to your needs."

She seemed to wither before his eyes at his words. He wondered why these simple questions could trouble her so.

"Umm . . .," she began. She closed her eyes and hung her head, cutting off her expression from his view. "Out here in the wild where we gather our own ingredients, I am, yes," she said tonelessly.

"Very well then," he said cheerfully in an attempt to get her to smile. "Cooking for a carnivore and a vegetarian will hardly be a piece of cake, but I believe I'm up to the challenge."

When she looked up at him again, the wind beating the strands of her hair that had come loose from her chignon against her face, he could see plainly from her bleak expression that he'd failed.

"You've been cold and distant with me since Longwythe. Why?"

"I'm merely paying my respects to your station." In lieu of calling her by her title, he lowered his eyes to the long, stringy grass at his feet, but she placed a hand in his line of sight to obstruct his view, beckoning him to look up at her again.

"You forget, Ignis, I'm not a queen of anything any longer."

"Perhaps not, but you are still royal. I have a lifetime of training regarding the treatment of royalty that, I'm afraid, is not easily cast aside."

It pained him to say this, as traveling with her had made him almost happy these past weeks, dispelling the loneliness and filling that studiously-ignored hole in his heart with warmth. It wasn't as though he were truly alone in life; he'd had His Highness and His Majesty, but the complications of their liege-vassal relationship kept him from feeling as though he truly belonged. His Uncle Caeli had always been kind, but distant. He'd grown closer to Gladio and Prompto these past weeks as well, but comrades though they had become, these were still relationships of circumstances. He knew very well he was blessed to have these good people in his life.

But piece by piece, almost without realizing it, he had ceded too much of himself to her to revert so easily. The idea of returning to those evenings spent alone and the hours of extra chores disquieted him, even with the gift of his friends and patchwork family. For what seemed the thousandth time since his view of her had been shattered that night in Longwythe, he found himself questioning every principle his tutors had worked so hard to instill in him in order to keep her companionship, but he could see no other way beyond the obstacles that lay between them.

She frowned. "You don't seem to have that issue with Noctis, and I don't want you to be my servant."

But he did have that issue with Noct. Torn as he was between raising the boy and serving him, he was always toeing the line between chastising parent, protective older brother, and respectful servant. He knew it was his duty to take care of him and die for him should the need arise, but beyond that, he was still unclear as to his role, even after all these years. It had silently been ripping him in pieces—but he had as of yet been unable to choose which he was supposed to be based on the promise he'd given as a boy and his more official role. He'd learned as he grew older, however, to rid himself of any ambiguity in order avoid entangling himself in such a mess ever again.

This, right here, was the crux of his discontent with his and Laura's interactions. Impertinent though it was to ask this directly, he _needed_ to know, "Then what do you wish from me?"

Her eyes turned hard as she lunged for his hand and began dragging him across the footbridge that arched over the main road.

"Come with me," she said roughly.

Somewhat dumbfounded by her sudden change of venue and the rules of engagement in this conversation, he allowed himself to be pulled behind her, trying his best not to trip over the rocks hidden in the long grass.

Ignis couldn't recall the precise moment holding her hand had become more about tugging him off somewhere than helping her realign. It had merely happened one day as naturally as breathing, though only when no one was looking now that it was no longer a matter of professional assistance. He'd grown accustomed to simply entwining his fingers with hers without a second thought each time she would grab him like this. It was almost as though they were friends. He'd never had a friend—someone the same age as he that didn't need or want to be constantly taken care of . . . an equal. But of course, _that_ particular illusion had come crashing down on him in Longwythe, as she wasn't an equal, was she?

Without warning, she stopped short in the middle of the footbridge. She didn't let go of his hand but instead flung her other arm out to the horizon.

"Look at that."

Focused as he had been on his thoughts and his task, he hadn't noticed that the sun was beginning to set, and she had just brought them into full view of the bay as the light was setting the choppy waters surrounding the picturesque quay on fire. In the distance, Angelgard glowed a dusky purple, curling into a sky of vibrant layers of color that looked like oil on water.

It was, of course, the moment he had been waiting for the entire afternoon, but her harsh tone contrasted too much with the breathtaking view, and he had to take a moment to decide whether to be amused, bemused, or awed. He decided on a combination of the three as he looked down at her cobalt eyes shining in the amber afternoon light.

"That," she said in a voice like velvet. "That's what I want from you."

This was why he wanted to keep her so badly—despite his upbringing, despite the fact that his worth could never rise to her higher station. She saw him not as a caricature of a man who enjoyed cooking and cleaning and working without rest, but as a curious man, interested in exploring all life had to offer—because he knew he had experienced so little of life thus far. He'd never felt as though he could be wanted for more than his mind or of what use he could be, but she had proven her unique view of him on those nights by the fire when she had asked him not only the standard questions for getting to know a person, but questions no one had ever asked him in his life—questions he didn't always have an answer for. What did he like to do in his spare time? What would he do if he had spare time? What would he want to be if he weren't an advisor, if he could do or be anything at all? What were some of the little, insignificant things in life that he loved?

And though he was well-aware the entire time that she wasn't reciprocating as openly as he, he had seen no harm in repaying her for her thoughtfulness by answering truthfully and thoroughly, telling her details about himself even the Prince didn't know because he'd simply never asked: how he loved the grace, athleticism, and orchestral music of the ballet and wished he had more time to see the shows; how it would be his dream to travel the world and see firsthand all the cultures he had studied; his interest in fashion; his desire to learn anything and everything he could get his hands on; how he admired the quiet, restless beauty of nature—the beauty in all things, really; how he appreciated anything done with style, elegance, a flourish; even mundane things, such as his appreciation for a hot cup of coffee and a warm, flaky croissant on a crisp, fall morning. He'd confessed these knowing with absolute certainty that she wouldn't laugh or ridicule, but join in his interest enthusiastically, and she had done so with all the knowledge of a young woman who had explored life extensively. And since that first night, she'd gone out of her way to show him any wondrous sight she'd found, including the view he was now taking in.

Laura pulled their entwined hands up to hover closer to their faces, her forearm wrapped around his, and he was instantly transported back to their first time together by the campfire, where he had held her all night as she slept on him. He had stayed awake for over an hour that evening despite his exhaustion, feeling her breath hit his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt and her pulse fluttering like a bird's wings against his wrist, just as it was now.

She leaned forward on her toes and looked up at him so that their noses were nearly touching, and he sucked in a quiet breath, his mind wiped blank.

This . . . feeling was a new sensation, but he wasn't naïve enough to believe that it meant anything. Attraction beyond taking aesthetic pleasure in someone, after all, was simply a matter of the compatibility of one's pheromones. He forced himself to clear his mind of the hazy, heady feeling trickling down to his feet and focused on her face.

Astrals, but he could still smell her this close. She smelled wild. She smelled of adventure.

"This," she whispered fiercely, the tea-scented air from her lungs washing over him as she squeezed his fingers tightly. "This is what I want from you."

Ignis squeezed her hand in return, but his heart filled with apprehension. What on Eos could she possibly be implying?

"You see, that's the issue. As much as this," he gave their hands a little shake, "intrigues me, I'm afraid I don't know what it entails."

Laura searched his face for a long moment. He wondered what she was attempting to glean from so deep in his psyche. "That's the beauty of it, Ignis. It entails whatever you want it to. I don't want anything from you that isn't given freely and unreservedly."

Why, oh why did she always say such enigmatic things to him? Her statement hardly cleared up the matter of what she wanted from him, and she couldn't possibly be saying that he had the choice to take whatever he wanted from her, as any relationship beyond friendship would be unthinkable.

But with everything she'd done for him, at the very least, he couldn't in good conscience continue to cause her pain like this. If she wanted to continue this friendship as much as he did, what was the harm? He had already been raised alongside a prince, after all.

"I don't want to be a queen to you," she implored. "I'm not even _your_ queen. Why can't I be Laura as I was before—just Laura?"

He was a practical man, if anything else, and if a queen directly requested that he call her by her given name, he could not refuse her. As for her friendship, he had time to figure it out—preferably after they had successfully made it to Altissia and the treaty was signed. He wondered for a moment who he would become, how much more of his finely-honed etiquette he would cast aside in order to keep her should this trip last much longer.

"Very well, then, Laura," he said, giving her hand a final squeeze before letting go, but he was pleased to see that sparkle rekindle in her eyes as she smiled at him. "But we should be returning, as we still need to ready ourselves for supper."

"Are you certain you want me to come tonight?" she asked as they headed back toward the haven. "Four guys, bachelor party . . . I don't mind making myself scarce."

"Nonsense. We'd be happy to have you."

* * *

"Seriously, Specs, I look like some kinda idiot er somethin'?" Noct asked, stumbling over his words a little as he held out his glass to Prompto, who sloppily filled it with the last of their wine. "That white stuff's parsnip, not fish."

Ignis was just sober enough to hold his tongue, but the comeback, "Do you truly wish me to answer that honestly, Noct?" echoed in his head loudly enough to make his temples throb a little. As a precaution to ward against feeling sick on the ferry tomorrow, he reached across his dish—scraped clean of the most fabulous sea's bounty risotto—and took several long draughts from his water, emptying the glass.

He wondered—if he replaced the arborio rice with a variety that had a lower starch content, would he be able to recreate this dish in the style of a paella as could be found in the Saxham District of Insomnia? Was it, in fact, the lower starch that allowed the rice to absorb such an intense flavor from the other ingredients? He would need to experiment, but either way, he believed he could improve upon Chef Arlund's work and coax an even stronger seafood flavor into the dish. He pulled out his notebook to jot down his thoughts, as he was likely to forget in his current, somewhat muddled state.

"Oh ho ho!" Gladio crowed, banging a fist on the table. "Looks like _someone_ just came up with a new recipe!"

"Ooh!" Prompto grunted, leaping from his seat and nearly knocking an empty bottle of 735 Veldorian red on the floor. "C'mon, say it, Iggy!"

"No."

"Say what?" Laura asked.

"What? You'll only say it after we're ripped apart an' bleedin' to death?" Noct said.

"You 'member when that dualhorn almost gored Gladio?" Prompto asked.

The offended party leaned forward to point a finger at Ignis. "Shoulder drippin' blood, Prompto screechin' in my ear, and _this_ one'd just come up with a new fuckin' recipe."

"Which, if you'll recall," he replied coolly, sitting up a little straighter, "you all benefitted from."

Ignis _still_ wouldn't necessarily consider cooking to be a hobby of his—he didn't believe. But these past weeks, he'd found that there was no more powerful memory than tasting a dish connected to his travels. His dish and chips recipe had instantly brought him back to that greasy plate of fries they'd tried at the Crow's Nest in Longwythe, which to his bafflement, had absolutely thrilled Laura. He could smell that heavy old oil mixed with salmon on the air, could envision perfectly the black and white checkered tiles and grungy red leather booths. He swore he could even hear that obnoxious, ever-present song crackling through the ancient radio at the end of the finger-print-smeared counter.

So he'd decided that the most effective method for remembering their journey would be to collect recipes as they traveled, much as Prompto collected photographs. With each new discovery, he found he couldn't wait to get to a kitchen to see if he could improve upon what he'd tried, and, up until that night in Longwythe, commandeer Laura to join him in his experiments much as she did when pulling him off on an adventure.

As a result, he may have gotten a bit . . . carried away in expressing himself once or twice.

Laura sat back in her dining chair with her glass of wine, placing her napkin off to the side of her leftover alstroom risotto. "Careful provoking the chef like that. That's how you wind up eating nothing but flame-roasted toast for three days straight."

"You . . . you wouldn't let him starve us like that, would you?" Prompto asked in horror.

"If you deserved it? Without hesitation."

Noct irritably pulled at his tie and shot her a betrayed look. "Damn. Guess we know where your loyalties are."

"Careful Noct," Gladio warned. "You're gonna haveta do better handlin' women when you're a married man. Lady Lunafreya'll wind up turnin' on ya."

"Give the kid a break," Laura scoffed. "How could he possibly have learned his manners hanging around the likes of you?"

"Who're you callin' 'kid'?" Noct said. "R'you even old enough to drink?"

Ignis's attention shot to her. He hadn't thought of that. How would it look for them to be seen with an underage girl drinking . . . and with the _press_ here no less? Diplomatic immunity would protect them from any legal consequences, but that would require very openly stating their identities.

She paused with her glass halfway to her lips, the loose tendrils of her long hair falling off her shoulder as she tilted her head, thinking. "What's the drinking age in this country?"

"Twenty," Ignis replied tersely.

She lowered her head to let out a snort that, to Ignis, sounded as though it had emanated from a sneezing anak. "Yeah," she managed to spit out through another snort of laughter. "I'm good, mate."

Prompto bolted from his chair again, this time knocking into a teenaged boy sitting with his family behind them. "Oof, sorry!"

"Watch yourself," Gladio said in a low voice.

"We must maintain some semblance of civility, at the very least," Ignis added.

Having righted his chair, Prompto turned to them. "I know! I just wanted to propose a toast!" He reached down to pick up his nearly empty glass of wine and raised it in the air. "To Lady . . . uh, Princess Lunafreya! May she run while she's still got the chance!"

"Thanks a lot, Prompto," Noct muttered beneath their laughter.

"To the wedding night," Gladio added, winking over and Noct and elbowing him roughly in the shoulder. Noct shoved him away and ducked his head.

"To peace," Ignis added gravely, though he was likely casting a pall on the celebratory mood. Still, he thought it important that they all were reminded of the greater implications of their mission.

Somewhat sobered, the five of them raised their glasses over the center of the table. "To peace."

Ignis emptied his glass, allowing the dark, oaky wine to wash over his palate one last time before swallowing, and closed his eyes for a moment to fully appreciate the gentle electric thrumming from his head to his toes. He'd already made a note to pick up this vintage when they arrived in Altissia, as he didn't believe he'd ever tasted anything so fine from a Lucian growing region—even Myrl. Again, he found himself lamenting that they wouldn't have the time to visit Veldoria on this journey.

"I . . . think I need to turn in for the night," Laura said in the wake of their silence.

He looked over at her, somewhat concerned by the quaver in her tone. Though the classic "little black dress" she'd worn this evening highlighted her naturally pale skin, she appeared suddenly unhealthily pallid, her eyes overly wide and dark in her face. He stood as she used the table to assist her to her feet, though he too had to hold still for a moment to steady his equilibrium.

"Allow me to accompany you back to the room."

"Someone finally 'bout to get laid?" Gladio muttered, smirking up at him.

Ignis tossed him a withering look before moving closer to Laura. "Don't be vulgar. You're welcome to accompany us if you wish." After a beat, he realized how his statement could be interpreted and added to forestall any additional remarks, "To ensure for yourself nothing untoward happens, of course."

"M'good here. Think we're gonna order that chocolate cake thing if you wanna come back."

He wasn't in the mood for something so sweet and heavy after all they'd consumed and imbibed this evening, but still he said, "I'll consider it."

Though honestly, he was far more interested in the possibility of taking advantage of the mostly empty suite—filling that expansive white tub with scalding hot water, watching the sea sparkle in the moonlight through the floor to ceiling windows, and taking a long, luxurious bath as he rode out this tide of warmth buzzing through his blood.

As he gently led Laura through the dining room and down the steps by the elbow, he said quietly, "The onset of this is quite sudden. Are you experiencing complications with energy incompatibility?"

"No," she replied. Was it his imagination, or did she sound somewhat breathless?

"Perhaps the wine has gone to your head, then."

"I don't get drunk."

"My current observations suggest otherwise."

Once he'd gotten the door of their suite open, he reached around the wall to turn the lights on in the dark room before leading her toward the en suite restroom. She seemed to hesitate when he followed her inside, but understood immediately when he reached for three glasses from the vanity and began to fill them with water from the faucet. When he'd finished, he gathered them in his hands and turned toward her.

"I'll leave you to your preparations."

"There's no need to make such a fuss. I'll be all right, Ignis. Really. You can go back to the party if you want."

He inclined his head to give her a knowing look before returning to the bedroom. Honestly, she should have been familiar enough with his habits by now to know that he could handle only so much debauchery before he was ready for something a little quieter.

After placing the glasses of water on the nightstands, he moved to where he guessed Laura would choose to sleep that evening and set about turning down the covers. When she still hadn't emerged, he decided to wait in one of the black leather armchairs in the lounge area and check his phone for any news on the signing. It was a long shot, as it seemed news from inside the Wall took a day or so to reach the outlands, and there were hardly ever evening updates.

He heard the creak of the door open, but he didn't look up until he heard Laura's soft, "Ignis."

She was leaning heavily against the doorframe, her pallor even more evident than before her change into her typical bedroom attire.

"What is it?" he asked, rushing to her side so he could grasp her elbow and lead her to the bed. Why did it feel as though she was always about to fall on him? "Your M—Laura? How can I assist?"

"I just need to sleep," she gasped.

As he settled her between the sheets and pulled the heavy down comforter over her trembling shoulders, she closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.

"Thank you. You're very kind. D'ya know?"

He laughed gently. "I've been called many things, but I don't believe that is one of them."

Her expression was pained when she opened her eyes to look up at him. "That's criminal. Well, you are, anyway."

"Not quite as flattering as 'narrow-minded,'" he replied, turning his head away that he might hide the ridiculous smile spreading over his face. "But I suppose I'll take it."

"Narrow-minded, perhaps," she sighed wearily, and he looked back down at her in time to see her close her eyes again, "but that doesn't mean you're not open-minded. You're learning."

He indulged himself in a long moment to closely inspect her face at rest, as he so rarely had the opportunity to do so without fear of her or one of the others catching him in the act. At the sight of her there in that bed, obviously ill and vulnerable, that now-familiar wave of déjà vu washed over him again. He'd stood over her like this before—he was certain of it. She silently stared up at him with those fathomless sapphire eyes, and never in his life had he felt the pang of his instinct so strongly.

"Who are you really, Laura . . .," he began, but paused as he realized something. "Bloody hell, I don't even know your surname."

Perhaps the wine had affected him more than he'd previously thought. She ignored his slip of the tongue, fortunately, and favored him with a slow, half-hearted smile.

"It's Ni'annen. Laura Ni'annen."

It wasn't her full name, of course, as all Eosian royalty possessed three names. But he let the omission pass, as a woman who despised her title as much as she was likely to downplay any mention of her station.

"Then who are you really, Laura Ni'annen? You're no mere queen."

Perhaps it was the loss of her people—it was the only reason he could think of to explain that look of utter devastation crossed her face, but a deep sense of foreboding settled in his bones at the sight.

"You'll want to be careful asking me questions like that," she mumbled, closing her eyes as her words grew less and less coherent. "Th' answers're usually more com'licated than anyone's prepared for."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

For those who haven't seen Kingsglaive, Lunafreya is consistently referred to as "Princess Lunafreya" instead of "Lady Lunafreya." These are two very different levels of nobility we're talking about. I've attempted to explain the reasoning for that in this chapter.

Tesoro d'Altissia Crab and Fish Crackers are real in the game, but they do come in a tin, not a package.

Cut content from the gelato stand in Altissia indicates that Veldoria is a region that produces fine wine. Thanks to OS from the r/FFXV Discord for sharing it! Drinking age taken from Japan's.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes:**

Warning: Canon character death and mildish depictions of violence. I guess you could say there's angst in there too. I would be shocked if anyone didn't know what was coming up, so you can pretty much guarantee there's going to be angst for the next couple of chapters at least.

* * *

Regis hadn't meant for his final moments with Princess Lunafreya to so strongly mirror his last memory of her twelve years ago, but as he released his hold on her fingers and watched her take several steps forward before she turned back to him, satisfaction flooded him that she would be the one leaving _him_ behind with General Glauca this time.

Perhaps it was because of the wistful expression he couldn't find the will to shutter in these last moments of looking on her fair, youthful, hopeful face, but she knew his intentions the moment their eyes met. House Fleuret had always possessed some indefinable gift of foreknowledge, almost as though they could see through time—Sylva certainly had. He wondered how much this child knew of the future . . . and how long she had borne that burden. He knew only too well the toll it took to bear the pressing weight of it year after year. And there was simply too much of duty about her for her _not_ to know.

With the gravity of recognizing that this would be one of his last acts on this eos, he raised his hand and cast the shield that would stop the headstrong girl from returning to fight on his behalf. After all he'd done, he didn't deserve such undying faith and loyalty, though her conviction touched him despite the guilt weighing heavy on his soul for all the heartache he had caused her family.

"No, please. Stop," Lunafreya pleaded, rushing forward to push through the barrier before it solidified, but she was too late. Her image blurred as though he were gazing at her from underwater—a barrier to separate the living from the dead.

"Please. Don't leave us," she entreated desperately. Understanding his intentions, Nyx moved to pull her away, but she refused to leave Regis behind as he had once done her. Stubborn girl. His only option was to appeal to what had persuaded her to remain behind all those years ago—family.

"I know your mother would wish the same as me," he said tenderly, faltering ever so slightly when heartbreak threatened to overtake him, "that you and Noctis . . . live happily."

But what were the odds that fate would allow them to do so? Even his most trusted and powerful emissary could grant him no guarantee of success that she could circumvent fate and the will of the gods. Yet the future mattered not when it came to his current actions. He would never be able to repay House Fleuret for all they had lost because of his actions, or inaction, just as he could never repay House Amicitia or House Scientia, but as long as he had breath in his body, he could protect Sylva and Canus's child on this terrible day.

Of course, even these actions were colored with motivations of self-interest. Luna would join the retinue in Altissia and become yet another shield against the dark that chased after Noctis's every step. Would that he could join them to ensure she survived this, but at the very least, he could do her this final favor and free her from General Glauca.

This would be the last time he failed the Fleurets.

"All those years captive because I failed you. Not again," he swore. "Locked doors will seal your fate no longer."

"King Regis . . ."

A shuddering slam against the lift door behind him forced him to turn away to check its integrity. A cloud of dust rained from the ceiling to drift to the marble floor. They didn't have long. He looked back to the last young Glaive he could trust with this final, most important task.

"Our hope goes with you now, Nyx Ulric. Godspeed."

It wasn't until Nyx ushered a reluctant Lunafreya away by the shoulders that Regis allowed himself to turn his back on them—just as the lift collapsed, and General Glauca crash-landed in front of him, smashing the stone beneath his sabatons. He crossed his arm over his chest and dipped into a mocking bow of fealty. Regis could do little but glare in response as the general drew his sword point in a half-circle at his feet and raised it in salute—a gesture to begin their duel. It had been several years since he'd been able to call on his Royal Armiger; he was shocked to have been able to do so once today already—even if it had been effective in sparing his own life and not Clarus's.

Perhaps he would come to be known as the Failure King upon his death. It seemed as though his every endeavor since his campaign to Accordo had been plagued by it.

He threw his cane aside—he wouldn't be walking from this room, drained as he was. It slid across the stone floor with a ringing clatter before coming to rest, and it was only when the echo had faded that General Glauca rushed forward. Regis stood empty-handed—firm and unflinching until his enemy had come just within swinging distance of the glaive between them and raised his palm to unleash himself—a thick stream of lightning to throw the other man's heavy armor across the room to crash into a fluted pillar and slide to the floor. His attack hadn't the potency he'd hoped for, as Glauca seemed to recover after a mere moment, leaping to his feet.

Fatigue weighed Regis down, but he managed to meet Glauca's sword with his last burst of crackling power when he advanced once again.

"Behold the King of Lucis," Glauca sneered, his voice deep and unnaturally echoing in his Magitek suit, "who hoarded tranquility within his precious walls. Where is your tranquility now, king?"

Little did he know that Regis's tranquility lay in knowing that though he had failed his father and his people by allowing this despicable invasion to occur, he had at least successfully drawn the Empire's wrath from Noctis.

Glauca continued to step forward, and Regis clenched his teeth in the effort of pouring himself into the spell, though he knew halting the general's progress was a long-lost cause.

"Here is your peace, by steel's swift descent," Glauca declared.

No—not so long as he held breath in his lungs, but even dead, peace would elude him.

With a thrust of the flat of his blade to Regis's injured hand, Glauca shoved his arm aside, spinning Regis's body so that his back was facing his enemy and his spell knocked from him.

 _Never, ever, turn your back to the enemy, son,_ he recalled his father telling him on his tenth birthday after he'd knocked Regis to the floor in a particularly brutal sparring match.

This was it. He always had managed to let his father down.

Surprisingly, the force of the impact slamming into his back hadn't hurt in the slightest, and he wondered for a moment whether Glauca had reneged on his word and decided to kick him just to toy with him a little longer. But as Glauca loosed a triumphant roar and drove the steel deeper through Regis's back, he felt his hands close around the blade slick with his own blood thrusting forward between his ribs.

Regis raised his failing eyes to the middle distance, and the sight of Lunafreya and Nyx somehow still standing there, at least protected by his final spell, blurred and dripped away as ink splashed with water. Why had they remained behind to witness this? Truly, he didn't deserve this loyalty.

"Go," he pleaded weakly, though he doubted he had the strength with his last breath to reach their ears. He regretted leaving them behind in a city so completely under siege, but if his death and final spell could secure their passage, then the price would have been worth paying a thousand times over.

The forces the Empire had gathered for their attack had been even greater than Regis had expected, far greater than the skirmishes they'd only just managed to repel beyond the Wall. The last words he'd sworn to his father the day he died was that he would protect his people, and deducing from the impacts and explosions to the Citadel's foundations, he'd managed to fail in that as well. For the first time in one hundred and fifty years, the new Wall would not safeguard his citizens from the terrors of the night tonight—all his fault. He wondered if it would have been safer for his people if he had simply surrendered as soon as Noctis was safely lost in the Lucian wilderness. But no, it had been vital that absolutely no one, save only his most trusted operative and his Shield, knew that he had already known of Niflheim's plan, and if there had been any hope of keeping the Empire from laying their hands on the Crystal and the Ring, it was his duty to do all within his power to prevent such an occurrence.

The pain and seeping cold radiated from the points where the sword had pierced his back and chest, and he closed his eyes for what he knew was the last time in an attempt to block out the sensations. He was surprised to find that, instead of the blackness he expected to see behind his eyelids, the blue, green, and purple aurora of the Crystal space waved lazily in the most peaceful mockery of what was happening to his mortal shell. It was almost a tranquil sight, but this couldn't be death yet. He could still feel his body back in the Citadel; could still taste the acrid smoke on the air, exposed by his slack lips; feel the shudders of his home as it attempted to withstand the barrage of the Empire's might.

So, this is how it would end. His failures would continue to plague him—things he had omitted or neglected, what he should have given and hadn't. He would feel the biting pang of every unfulfillment until those Lucii came to drag him to his destiny.

He supposed it was a just punishment for his deeds in this life.

"People are not punished for their deeds, but by them," an accented, feminine voice said from behind him. He turned to identify the speaker.

 _She_ was standing in front of him, wearing that farce of a Glaive uniform he'd had no idea at the time would prove itself false when the war finally broke out.

It wasn't as though he could find it in himself to argue with the traitors. There was much they didn't understand. And as for how his actions had appeared to others . . . well, he could only hope they would someday.

"You're here. How?" But he realized it didn't matter. He shook his head. "Never mind. Are you with my son? Is he safe?"

He had wanted to seek out reports on the five of them these past two weeks as they made their way through the Lucian outlands, but there had been so much to do in preparation for this day that he found he hadn't the time to check his sources beyond getting a busy signal at Cid's garage. The stubborn old man had always been difficult to get a hold of the handful of times Regis had contacted him after they'd managed to repair their broken friendship, but he couldn't help but think this lack of tidings boded ill for the future.

"He's safe—they're all safe—for now. It's going to be all right, Regis."

"It's time."

Even as he said the words, he could still hear the echoes of faraway explosions in his body's ears, and he sent up yet another silent prayer to the gods that whoever was left to remember him would someday understand why he'd done what he'd done. Too much of his life essence had drained away; he could feel himself fading, and for the first time since this entire ordeal had begun, he felt terror. Desperate to anchor himself to everything he'd ever known of this existence, he stumbled forward to clutch the girl's forearms.

"Please. I don't have much time left. Tell me everything. Tell me of Noctis."

Instead of hearing a verbal response, he felt that same queer light break behind his eyes as the last time he'd communicated with her in this most strange fashion—only this time, instead of unimaginable fire searing his synapses, she was gentle, warm, like a soft blanket. She held him in her thoughts as though he were a child, and the pain and seeping cold from his mortal body washed away in the comfort of her consciousness. He couldn't remember the last time someone had comforted him, the last time he had allowed anyone to comfort him. But failure or not, his duty was done in the mortal world, and he saw no reason for the need to hold fast and steady any longer.

"I know, but I've bought you a little time. That's why I'm here. I've been waiting, monitoring the connection with the Crystal so I would know when this happened. I'll not let you go through this alone, Regis. I'm going to stay with you."

"Will it not hurt as it did before?"

Searching her mind that day had hurt the both of them more than he could have ever imagined, even with both parties willing participants. He wondered why her mind wasn't setting him on fire this very moment. Perhaps the sword in his back was distracting him from her wrongness.

The thought of having such an intimate connection like this as one of them died sent a shudder through him. But what did he know? He was no telepath. With his death and imminent transformation into a Lucii, he supposed he would be soon, however.

"It won't hurt you in the slightest this time," she said soothingly, stepping back from him to give him a somber smile. "I've been adjusting things since I left." She gave him a gentle smile, but those eyes of hers were wet with sorrow and pity he couldn't bear to see. He turned away to shut it out.

Even after having searched for her motivations, he still couldn't understand why she was doing this—why she was here when none of this had anything to do with her. But he couldn't deny how useful she would be for this mission. If anyone could protect his wayward boy as he grew into all he needed to become without interfering too much, it would be her.

She reached for his hand, entreating him to look at her.

"I couldn't even tell him, in the end," he breathed out the confession with a shameful shake of his head. "I couldn't find the words. Astrals know I tried."

"I promise; one of these days, he'll understand."

Longing blossomed in his chest—that Noctis could understand everything he'd done, that all the years of hiding his own pain and suffering from the boy so he might be spared the glimpse into his own future could be explained and forgiven. He should have told him everything that day, including how very much he loved him, but then how could Noctis simply leave him behind in that doomed city and do his duty? Regis was concerned about the boy's resolve enough as it was, and he himself could barely cope with the burden of the foreknowledge he'd carried for so many years now.

He had always resented the way the future had turned their relationship cold. There had been days when his resolve had grown weak, and he questioned his ability to be the distant, calculating father he had become—so much like his own. But duty had always spurred him to do whatever was necessary, and the smallest voice in the back of his head was not quite afraid enough to wonder whether distance would make it easier for Regis to betray Noctis one final time in the last seconds of his life. Perhaps it had been guilt that had spurred Regis to ensure that Noctis had lived as normal and happy a life as possible—so that when his day came far too soon and his own father joined in with the others to tear him apart, he might be able to look back on his short-lived days and know some happiness.

Regis hadn't wanted to be Noctis's king that day; he'd tried, for the last time, to be a father, but as with all things, he had failed to say so much.

"I should have told him when I had the chance. Please, will you tell him for me? Tell him everything, including who you are. This is a father's final request and dearest wish."

Asking this of her was no small favor. Her identity and her foreknowledge of tonight's events could possibly shatter the fragile trust she'd doubtless toiled to cultivate between her and the four children, but even if she was not likely to phrase it in such a manner, he wanted Noctis to know that he had left him with everything he could—with the gift of her protection.

She nodded. "Yes, I'll tell him everything. I just hope they can find it in their hearts to forgive me."

"They're good boys; I believe they will, in time."

"I believe Ignis already has his suspicions."

Regis found it in himself to release a small chuckle. "I warned you about him." He was surprised that the boy hadn't confronted her already on the matter.

Her expression turned serious. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"No. The only thing I wish of you now is to prove true to the word you gave me when you left."

It was as he closed his bleary eyes that he realized the pain from his mortal wound hadn't just disappeared, he could no longer feel his body at all—could no longer smell or taste the iron tang of blood on his tongue, no longer hear the crashing of stone and the screams of his most devoted subjects who had remained to fight for their homes. His body had passed, and his consciousness was now drifting somewhere between the Crystal and her mind. Had any other man in existence experienced such a phenomenon? The peace that settled over him made death seem a much more bearable ordeal to endure—a comforting embrace indeed, in contrast to how long he had feared this moment.

As the nights in Lucis had grown longer and he knew his time was approaching, he would often lie awake in bed, alone for once, and allowed to be paralyzed with fear at the prospect of dying. Would it be slow and painful? Would he have enough time to settle his affairs? Would there even be enough strength afforded him that he could stand and face death head-on with courage? He wouldn't even be offered the comfort of following his dear Aulea into the afterlife, for his essence had to be dragged to this place in order to become a Lucii, awaiting the day he would have to perform his final, most despicable duty.

Or would he be forced to endure the shame of growing so weak that he would be a bedridden husk by the time his destiny came calling? That unacceptable possibility had been only one of the driving factors of him accepting the terms of that treaty—which he knew from the moment of its proposal had been a farce, even if he had held the smallest of hopes that it wouldn't be. Both sides knew that he couldn't hold the Wall up much longer, and the fact that he had struggled the hardest from potential enemy spies was that Noctis was far from ready to take his place.

He would beg the Astrals for forgiveness on those dark nights for binding the lives of three young men—children really, so very young and full of promise—to his son's fate. He would plead to the gods for mercy on behalf of his people, knowing that no matter what plans he made, countless lives would be lost. The names of the good men and women who died serving him would forever be sullied for the sacrifices they had made to save the world.

Perhaps, had the girl arrived earlier, they might have had time to devise a better plan, perhaps to leave her behind to protect the city—and yet there was nothing in this world more important than seeing the prophecy fulfilled. Better that thousands die now than the entire world fall to ruin in the future.

Regis believed he could endure all these sins if the mission succeeded, but failure was the greatest fear that had permeated those final waking moments before sleep, ever since the Crystal had shown him the vision of Noctis setting out on his own. Though he had averted that particular disaster, other possibilities had continued to plague him—until the day she'd suddenly appeared in his throne room as no one had in twelve years, and he'd tested her in his study.

"You have my most solemn word, Regis. I will protect him with my life," she reavowed, her voice growing softer, "until the very end; I will protect all of them."

Their astral bodies stood mere paces apart as she embraced his mind in that strange way only she could manage, but at her words, Regis felt those eerie yet familiar consciousnesses of his ancestors creep into the edges of his diminishing perception. Save for Somnus, who had made the occasional visit to deliver him disastrous news and directives from time to time, they had all hovered there just beyond his waking dreams—whispering, guiding, leading them all to their end and using his reluctantly compliant hand to dole out the will of fate.

And now they had come for him—to recruit him in whispering those same despicable tidings to lure his son to his death . . . once he had accepted his calling. The searing cold steel of their armored hands clawed at him, attempting to pull him into the depths of death, but she took a step forward to yank him from their grasp.

 _ **You will release the Father, Anathema, that he may meet his destiny,**_ the Fierce commanded.

"Will you just wait?" she snapped. "You're about to have him for eternity. I think you can manage a couple of minutes, and don't think I won't fight you for them either, because I will."

A flash of amusement struck him at the sight of her scolding an entire line of immortal kings on his behalf, even over his fear that this encounter would descend into yet another vicious battle of wills. This was the reason he had chosen to send her on this journey; she was the only creature in existence with the power and daring to look a god in the face and defy him.

"Do not challenge them again on my behalf," Regis urged, taking a step toward the Lucii. "You must conserve your strength for what is to come."

 _ **We have indulged your request that this abomination accompany the Chosen, Regis. Why is she here now?**_ the Tall demanded.

"A moment, please! You were all human once, were you not?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned to him with a pleading expression. "I cannot keep you here much longer. Will you come with me?" She held out her hand toward him as though offering him a lifeline. "There's one last thing I can do for you, for the both of you."

He didn't truly understand what she was asking of him; he was only just aware of this unfamiliar astral body in this place. But he did as he was bid before the half-circle of Lucii shimmering over their heads changed their minds.

"Close your eyes."

Once again, he obeyed, and he immediately felt as though he was being drawn away—over the burning destruction of his most beloved city, the only home he'd ever known; across the desert; and down to the deceptively peaceful shores of Galdin.

Memories of his own journey to this place thirty years ago washed over him—of the brotherly bonding slowly nurtured to a fierce love, only to fall to tense and distant relationships. Weskham had never left Altissia after being treated for his injuries, though Regis had heard the occasional word from time to time—updates on the Empire's movements on behalf of Claustra. Disgusted with Regis for the strict new policy forbidding refugees to enter the city, Cid had also never returned, choosing instead to remain behind at the abandoned station where the Regalia had first broken down. Only Cor and Clarus had returned to Insomnia and remained by his side, and now Clarus was pinned to the wall of the throne room by his own glaive.

It pained him immeasurably that he didn't even know of what fate had befallen Cor after he'd left to protect the city as per Regis's orders.

Well-accustomed to the practice as he was, he pushed onward, accepting the consequences of his actions. Though the never looking back portion of his guiding principles had always been an issue for him, he found he was able to focus on the present moment as the girl guided him into a suite at the very hotel he had once stayed in. She led him to one of the beds, where she, Prompto, and his own dearest son lay, so innocent and so very vulnerable.

"So—the plan succeeded, then. The Regalia broke down before you could make it to the ferry?"

It had been no simple matter to ensure the car was in good enough condition to get them out of the city before failing them, hopefully near Hammerhead so they could connect with Cid. He'd given them no funds and no way to reach them on the other side of the Wall so that they'd be forced to eke a living lost in the Lucian wilderness away from the Empire's gaze—and perhaps grow up a little in the process.

"Yes, your scheme worked perfectly, though I wish you had told me beforehand. I did wonder why a royal vehicle was so poorly maintained until things started panning out. Of course, Ignis almost derailed everything by bringing gil along, but Cid pulled through for you," she said fondly as she looked over at Ignis asleep on the other bed. "Took him forever to fix that car, and he charged us a fortune."

His gaze followed hers, and his heart fell at the sight of Ignis in repose, his arms wrapped around a spare pillow as he had always slept since he was a small child. His future was to be dark as well, almost as dark as Noctis's, and it had only just occurred to Regis that for all that the boy had an impeccable skill for looking after others, Regis was beginning to have his doubts about his ability to look after himself. Ignis had become a second son to him as he watched the two boys grow up together from afar, but it had never crossed his mind until this moment that he'd never truly ensured that Caeli had been looking after him. Caeli was a good man, and a blood relation, after all—why wouldn't he look after his nephew?

Regis likely wouldn't have the time to say everything he wished to say to Ignis, who had who had taken care of his boy so completely and with so much love when he himself couldn't. His silence was the source of yet more regret that he'd never breathed a word to the young man about just what that dedication had always meant to him. But surely—he knew.

"Dear Ignis, my boy . . . you have my blessing. Good fortune to you."

"I'll find a way to let him know," she said urgently, "but you must hurry. I cannot keep you together much longer."

Regis looked back down, his eyes lingering on his son's sleeping face for the last time—at least for a long while. Those long, dark lashes laid against his cheek hiding those luminescent sapphire eyes had always reminded him painfully of Aulea. Would he even have the chance to see her when this dark endeavor was completed? Would she forgive him for failing to save her? To save their son?

"I think he's been worried about you."

"I never wanted that," Regis replied, not tearing his eyes away from his sleeping child. "It is the parents' duty to worry about their children, not the other way around."

"You can't protect him from everything, you know. You told me that yourself."

He reached down to lightly brush away Noctis's dark bangs with his fingertips. "Not anymore."

For all that his son had been reluctant to pursue his duty, Regis had absolute faith that when the time came, Noctis would ascend for the sake of his people. His heart was too gentle, too tender not to. But the Crystal had Chosen Noctis above the hundred and thirteen of his ancestors for a reason, and not because he was the most powerful of them all. Regis had always firmly believed that he'd been chosen for his heart, and in order to succeed, he must be allowed to find his own path. His will and his alone would hold the key to the world's salvation. Perhaps, if Regis didn't fail him in this stage of his journey, they could all be reunited as a family for good this time.

History could name him the Failure King—just so long as his efforts paved the way for Noctis to succeed.

"I shall be with you, always," he whispered, replacing his fingers against Noctis's forehead with his lips.

Gods, he wished he'd had more time.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I have one more thing I must ask you now," the girl interrupted. "There is much you've neglected to tell me, but we only have the time for the most important matter. An immortal man tracked us here the other day. He's left and hasn't returned, but I need to know what other supernatural players are in this game besides the Old Kings and the Six."

He stood straight to face her, thinking furiously through the possibilities. There were no immortal men involved in this that he knew of. Gilgamesh had sealed himself away in his Tempering Grounds since Cor had faced him, awaiting the day that Gladio chose to seek him out. It was possible that one of the twenty-four Messengers representing the Six could be tailing them, just as Gentiana had looked after Lunafreya, but that idea brought him little comfort. Gentiana, after all, had been mysteriously and conspicuously absent during the events that had brought Lunafreya to the fall of Lucis, after all.

There was one other option—a man, a border patrol agent by the name of Mars Sapientia who had thrown aside a lifetime of honorable service to House Caelum and infiltrated the Citadel with the means to murder "the fathers of the Chosen." With him, he had brought to the outer edges of the Wall the strongest force Regis had yet encountered—more powerful than even those he'd failed against in Accordo and the skirmishes he'd attempted to quash after his father had scaled back the Wall to its current ramparts.

That day had been the focal point of all their years of effort all along. It must have taken all that time to establish Altissia as a pinned ally and staging ground before moving on to take the outlands, building their despicable bases, and proceeding to slowly choke off what was left of the capital city. But their patient efforts representing decades of manipulation had paid off. One man had used his border patrol connections to break into the Crown City and murder King Mors Lucis Caelum with the Royal Armiger only another of House Caelum should have been able to wield. Regis had barely managed to slink away with his own life after failing to save his father, and the city he'd sworn to protect as his father had breathed his last breath had nearly been breached that very day.

Somnus Lucis Caelum had refused any explanation beyond a fierce declaration that his was the only death he was looking forward to seeing one day, but that hadn't stopped Regis from sending his historian on a lifelong search for answers.

"That's not him," the girl answered, seeing the image of the man's face in his thoughts.

"Then I am afraid I can offer no other insight. Keep a whether eye out for that man. I have a feeling he is not yet finished with the fate of House Caelum."

 _ **Regis, you must come now,**_ the echo of one of the Old Kings' voice inserted itself into his head. _**An unworthy petitions the Ring's power.**_

He stood straighter, running his hands over his royal raiment and settling into that well-worn visage of a man fulfilling his duty.

"We'll take it from here," the girl said, reaching up to place a gentle hand on his cheek. "Try to find some rest."

Though he wanted to close his eyes, he turned his head to look down at the bed beside him.

The pull of the Lucii became too strong in that moment, but he held his eyes steady on his son's face. Just as it had with Lunafreya and Nyx, the image melted around him, this time into a white-hot, rippling blue flame that seemed to reach out and burn him from the inside out.

"Thank you," he managed to call out one final time before his ancestors pulled him forward.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Luna's father's name, Canus Nox, is not canon.

It's stated in Ignis's Brotherhood episode that Regis can no longer summon weapons. He doesn't pull any on the Emperor, but he does block a blow from Glauca just before Clarus dies. According to my inexpert eye, Regis never pulls Royal Arms, but regular weapons only during the events of the Kingsglaive movie. Perhaps those take more power to bring into existence? I would say he never went to collect and doesn't own them, only he definitely has them in Noct's Brotherhood episode.

As an explanation for why Regis doesn't recognize Ardyn's face as the same in Insomnia all those years ago, many people don't realize that he took on the appearance of Mars Sapientia for the entire invasion in Episode Ardyn, and only the player sees his true face.

Also, I completely rewrote the events of EpA for this story, so don't assume you know what happened based on the game. He did _not_ drag Ifrit to Insomnia and then somehow make an entire city forget that a god had recently devastated the place. Him killing Mors is also not canon.


	12. Chapter 12

The moment Ignis opened his eyes, he checked to ensure that everyone was safe and in bed as they should be, as he had every morning since they'd left the city. He needn't have bothered confirming Gladio's presence, as the oversized brute clearly had no concept of sharing a bed with anyone who valued personal space. Ignis politely shoved an arm and a foot out of his half of the bed and leaned up on an elbow to inspect the other bed.

Noct was, of course, sound asleep, even if his pillow appeared as though it had been trampled to death by a herd of wild dualhorns. He sympathized with Prompto, who couldn't possibly be having an easy time of it resting next to the violent sleeper. Ignis himself had lost many an hour as a child from the Prince's tossings and turnings—particularly during that horrible stretch of time after Tenebrae.

His greatest concern that morning, however, was Laura, which was why he had chosen the side of the other bed closest to her. He had checked on her before retiring for the evening and was concerned to find her pale as death and so very still. As rare a phenomenon as it was to even find her unconscious, he would have expected her to stir when he tentatively placed the back of his hand against her cold forehead. Her skin had felt so chilled that he'd had no misgivings whatsoever in bringing his fingers down to touch her neck, where he'd found her pulse racing and irregular.

These weren't typical signs of inebriation, and looking back on their conversation since leaving the table, her responses had remained perfectly coherent right up until the moment she'd fallen asleep. He might have grown alarmed enough at this point to wake her, except that he'd realized her pulse had _always_ been erratic—he'd subconsciously noticed it every time she'd taken his hand.

From her appearance this morning, she'd only worsened in the night—her face still bone white but sporting dark, heavy rings around her eyes. He silently swung his feet to the floor and stood over her, checking her pulse to find it still racing, but her breathing was slow and steady. These must have been symptoms of her mysterious illness, which was clearly more severe than she had claimed if it was continuing beyond her realignment.

It certainly wasn't the only thing she'd concealed from him.

Deciding that it would be safe enough to let her sleep until he'd gotten ready for the day, he made his way to the en suite to begin his morning grooming rituals—starting with a shave. As he worked, his mind began to gather together every piece of evidence he'd thought of last night during his bath that didn't add up about Laura or her story. And even though his instinct was still telling him she could be trusted, logic had brought him to the sinister conclusion that she was hiding something from all of them—something profound.

Ignis was well aware of how much time was eaten away by the day-to-day business of a ruling monarch in wartime. Those duties left little time for pursuing other hobbies, interests, or skills—particularly when the monarch ascended at such a tender age as she. King Regis was a prime example of this, as he hadn't even the time to raise his own son beyond a meal here or a trip there in his younger years, when the war hadn't yet taken such a steep toll on his health. All his hobbies and interests were discussed with an air of nostalgia, cultivated during the more carefree days of his youth before he ascended.

Laura couldn't have been a day older than twenty-five, and yet she was a master of the blade and elements—as much of a betrayal as it felt to say in his own head—even beyond the skills of those of His Majesty. And that was to say nothing of her ease in social situations; her breadmaking; or her skills in ballet, martial arts, construction, and machinery. When had she managed to acquire such a wide variety of abilities with such adeptness in the short time she'd been alive?

Ignis understood that he didn't know much about the world outside of Lucis beyond a theoretical knowledge of any diplomatic tactics necessary to maintain relations with other countries—completely unused and untested so far. But Eos was an easy globe to memorize the geography of, at the very least. He'd never heard of the country Miriásia, and while it was possible it had been one of the smaller territories on Terraverde to be subsumed in the Empire's thirst for more land, it was highly unlikely that a quick search on his phone would yield no results of its existence. The news of a kingdom, let alone _multiple_ kingdoms, recently going extinct from the scourge as she had described would have no doubt reached even the deafest of ears on _some_ news outlet or another.

It troubled him that a name as unique as Laura Ni'annen hadn't yielded any results, either.

And then what had the young queen done after the death of her people? Made her way to the kingdom of Lucis, the land that caused her such pain, and pledged herself to the King? And His Majesty, after having witnessed her weapons prowess and her ability to sneak past his guards, decided it necessary to have her accompany his son to his wedding? These scenarios simply made no sense to him.

Yet this was the portion of the narrative that gave him pause. No matter what, Ignis trusted the King's judgment without qualification, and he had clearly endorsed Laura the day she'd fought the Marshal and again the next morning when they left. Whatever the inconsistencies of her story, her secret couldn't be completely damning.

As long as they made it to Altissia safely, Ignis could accept these discrepancies, though his somewhat personal involvement as a friend suggested that he could possibly coax an explanation from her, and he intended to try. Should matters with the Empire escalate, however, he would unfortunately be forced to demand answers for the safety of the Prince—a prospect he wouldn't relish for many reasons. Challenging authority and appearing to question the King's judgment were by no means practices he made a habit of.

Then, of course, there was the matter of settling these intense flashes of instinct he was experiencing, which only seemed to grow stronger and more frequent the longer he spent in her presence.

The heat from the bathwater and the wine electrifying his blood had still been buzzing through him last night, making him flushed and nearly dizzy, when his thoughts had turned toward that particular piece of her puzzle. He had leaned back against the warmed porcelain and closed his eyes, haunted by visions of kind, sapphire-lit smiles and a gentle, soothing voice. As he allowed his mind to drift halfway between sleep and consciousness, a memory—or perhaps a dream—fluttered across the surface of his thoughts. That indistinct voice morphed into a melody—haunting, melancholic, and comforting all at once.

He had bolted upright to look to his bedside table as realization dawned on him, only to be abruptly dumped back into reality as he splashed tepid water over the sides of the tub.

Shiva—Laura perfectly resembled the statuette of Shiva he'd kept on his bedside table since he was a child, one of the few personal items he had indulged in besides a single potted plant and all the cookware and books he had received as gifts over the years. It had been years since he'd examined it beyond a superficial dusting—the last time he'd packed it away in his room at the Citadel to take with him to his apartment.

He hadn't understood at the time why he'd bought the art piece—perhaps he'd already noticed the way his memory of the goddess's long black hair, glowing blue eyes, and sweet smile as she sang him to sleep on one of the worst nights of his life had begun to fade from his typically sharp memory. Perhaps his purchase had been influenced by how he could no longer quite recall what he had dreamed and what his imagination had filled in after the fact, and he wanted to remind himself. The foot-high statue wasn't even a representation of Shiva's astral form, but the artist's interpretation of the goddess in one of her mysterious Messenger bodies. But as he'd stood in that shop and closed his eyes, he'd known then that the avatar's face had been sculpted into stone miniature, crafted by an artisan who had also been blessed by her presence as he had.

The same face that sent a shiver down his back every time Laura smiled at him.

Here in the light of day, however, as he donned his Crownsguard uniform and fixed his hair, the notion seemed ridiculous. Obviously, his memory had been influenced by the wine last night and was filling in even more details than he had when trying to recall his dream as a child. Laura and the High Messenger's descriptions were superficially similar, and he was likely pasting her image over that of a twelve-year-old memory based on recency.

Leaning over her prone, vulnerable body this morning, however, he wasn't entirely certain which assessment had been correct. Surely an avatar of a goddess would be less vulnerable? Yet even her delicacy somehow seemed familiar to him. Was it possible that King Regis had sent with them none other than the Glacian herself?

He hoped not. The idea of it rendered his fragile desires from their conversation yesterday even more preposterous.

A sharp gasp interrupted his thoughts, and he looked back down at her in time to see her eyes fly open—wide, sightless, and rolling in her head as though she had just clawed herself back from death's embrace itself.

"Laura," he whispered urgently so as not to awaken the others.

She seemed not to notice his presence as her back arched dramatically off the bed, her mouth opened in a silent scream. For all the violence of her awakening, he was shocked that she'd hardly made a sound beyond that of her initial inhalation, but he nevertheless leaned in to gently hold her shoulders to the bed in case she began seizing.

Perhaps she suffered from night terrors, which might explain why she hardly slept.

"Laura," he murmured soothingly, "it's Ignis. You're safe." She hadn't moved after collapsing back to the bed, so he released his hold on her to crouch down next to where she lay panting. She seemed not to see or hear him. "Everything is all right."

Her darting gaze finally settled on his mouth briefly before locking on his eyes. Tears welled in her lower lids as she looked up at him.

"Ignis," she breathed. "No. Absolutely nothing is all right." He stood and backed away as she sat up on the edge of the bed. She seemed to search his face for some reassurance he wanted to give, but he couldn't fathom what it was she could possibly want to hear from him. "Oh gods, how will you all ever forgive me?" she pleaded helplessly.

"You've only had a nightmare," he said, keeping his tone steady and rational as he used to when he was soothing Noct as a child. "I recommend getting dressed. We can go for a walk to calm down so we don't disturb the others, if you're feeling up to it."

With any luck, he could get her to confide in him for once, perhaps begin to pick at the mystery of where he knew her from—really. He was also eager to check the paper stand for news on the treaty signing, as he found the papers' internet counterparts to be more of a hastily-constructed attempt at modernization than a true news source.

She stood up abruptly and dismissed her blanket. "Yes, get dressed. And while I do that, I need you to do something for me . . .."

To his utter confusion, she reached carefully under Prompto's pillow and pulled out his phone before flipping it over and sliding the back cover off. "We have work to do. I know you've been suspicious of me lately, and for good reason, but I need you to trust me for just a little longer. We have to keep Noctis safe. Help me take all the batteries out of the phones, starting with Noctis's."

He hesitated just long enough to ensure that her expression was clear, coherent, and serious before he strode to the other side of the bed to carry out her directive. If her goal was to protect Noct, then he would of course obey without question, even if this did turn out to be a figment of her imagination.

As he picked up Noct's phone from the bedside table, he asked softly, "If our lives are in danger, shouldn't we wake the others?"

That they weren't awakened by this conversation already was somewhat disturbing. Far from becoming vigilant after having spent the past two weeks in the wild, the havens had clearly given them all a false sense of security, allowing them to sleep through the yips, growls, and screams that typically accompanied the night. For his part, Ignis would always be a light sleeper and had never found decent rest when they slept outdoors, but exhaustion was a state he had long grown used to operating under.

But honestly, they weren't nearly wary enough given their unfamiliar surroundings to still be sleeping after so much movement.

"Not yet. This may yet be the last moment of peaceful sleep they get for some time. I'll be right back."

Ignis paused in taking the battery out of his own phone and watched her retreating back. Despite the fact that she was likely reacting to a nightmare, her words sent a frisson of fear through him. He hadn't known her to be wrong about anything thus far, and her expression as she'd left for the en suite combined with her bleak tone foretold of some great misfortune on the horizon. Did she know something of the treaty that he didn't? He couldn't see how, as she'd been unconscious since last night, as far as he knew.

He'd finished with Gladio's phone by the time she emerged from the restroom wearing her Kingsglaive body suit and jacket, her hair pulled into a loose twist as always. Without a word, she hurriedly ushered him out the front door with a light touch to his arm.

It was only once the door had closed behind them that he felt free to politely express his growing impatience.

"Now—would you mind telling me what has you so agitated this morning? You could likely do with more rest; you still appear peaked."

She tsked disapprovingly at him and hurried toward the front of the restaurant, where the boardwalk to shore began.

"Where are you going? And why did we just take apart everyone's mobiles? Prompto in particular will not be amused."

"I doubt the Empire has the resources to commit to tracking us down just yet, given all that's happened, but I thought it would be safer to remove the batteries, just in case. There's already _one_ person aware of our location I would rather wasn't; I'd like to keep our chances of being tracked to a minimum."

"Why would the Empire be tracking us?" he asked, keeping his tone calm, but he feared he already knew her answer. "What is it that you think has happened?"

His suspicions were confirmed when she reached the faded blue newspaper stand by the front entrance, but it was very conspicuously empty; even the paper usually stuffed haphazardly in the front window had been taken. As Laura headed back to the chef's counter, Ignis glanced around at the now noticeably hushed dining room, observing the nervous-looking patrons huddled in small groups over their papers and speaking in low, urgent tones.

"Coctura," Laura greeted as she approached the counter, where the chef in question was grating fresh cheese directly into an omelette still cooking over the low flame, "do you happen to have your paper this morning? You can keep your crossword page; I just need the front, please."

Coctura didn't look away from her work until she had poured the circle of egg onto the plate, folding it in half. After garnishing with parsley, she passed the plate off to a runner and frowned at Laura. "Here," she said in a low, troubled tone, bending to a shelf by her knees. She bit her lip for a moment before handing the folded paper over. "I'm so sorry."

Laura's expression grew uncharacteristically hard as she locked eyes with Coctura. "Don't breathe a word to _anyone_ ," she said, leaning in to nearly growl the words into Coctura's ear. "Let Dino know too, and anyone else who thinks they know who we are. Tell them they'll have me to deal with if they let anything 'slip' to anyone."

"But what if—"

"If they come calling and start putting pressure, we'll deal with that when it comes. I don't want anyone risking their lives or their families. All I ask is that no one reports anything. What's the current rumor on us? There has to be one."

"Th-that you're Crownsguard decoys impersonating the Prince. No one thinks you'd actually take public transportation to Altissia."

"Good. We can work with that. Pass it on that there's no way the King would have sent the Prince off with a bunch of kids, too. We're a bunch of recruits taking a joy ride in the King's car, got it? Get Dino on it."

"I can do that."

"Ta," she said, throwing a hand over her shoulder as she turned toward an empty table near the television screens, which were constantly flashing pictures of tourists overenthusiastically enjoying themselves in the very restaurant in which they were seated.

"You are beginning to try even my patience," Ignis muttered—mostly to himself. No matter who or what she was, if Noct's life truly was in some sort of danger, he needed to assemble a course of action, and this lack of information was putting him on-edge.

"I believe we're safe for the moment, but that depends on which reckless thing you all decide to do after this and how much force the Empire can muster." She sighed and slid the folded paper in front of him. "Ignis, words cannot express how truly sorry I am, but know that I am here for you all—whatever you need."

He glared at her briefly before unfolding the paper, and the headline written there in bold, black ink seemed to immediately seep into his eyes, through his pores, beneath his skin—shrouding him in darkness. His mind went still. He couldn't think.

 **Insomnia Falls**

Growing desperate for additional information, he skimmed the rest of the article as quickly as he could, allowing his eyes to pass over the facts presented on paper but not truly taking them into his heart: the treaty failed, Insomnia under siege, the Crystal and the Ring stolen, the King . . . dead.

"This can't be real," he whispered, but as he glanced around at the other diners, the context of their solemn and frightened expressions came into sharp focus. "There has to be some misunderstanding."

"I'm afraid not," she said, her tone soft as though she were holding vigil beside a deathbed. "Are you all right?"

Was he all right? For the time being, he was. He couldn't allow himself a moment to grieve for their losses based on speculation because the only way of moving forward was to immediately present this information to the others before finding some way to verify the facts. With a duty to perform, he could cast aside the grief threatening to push past his rationality and the surface of his composure. Extensive experience with handling himself under pressure also allowed space for his mind to work furiously and put the pieces together, coming to one, very obvious conclusion.

As he'd spent much of the previous evening poring over every interaction with her, it was only too easy to recall the instances where she'd displayed evidence of her foreknowledge: the look on her face when the girl in Hammerhead said what her father did for a living and her surety when she expressed that she was on the brink of another war. She'd known nothing of their society when she'd joined them, and yet she was so well-versed in their political entanglements.

His eyes shot to her face—ill, drawn, and devastated, but he could not find it in his heart to feel that sorrow with her. "You knew," he accused, glaring at her. "You knew all along this would happen."

She looked down to the place setting between her hands, and after a moment, she closed her eyes and nodded.

Gods damn it all, she hadn't been involved, had she? As a loyal member of the Crownsguard, it was technically his duty to remove any and all threats to the Crown. Could he kill an unarmed woman right here, right now, in the middle of a restaurant? A woman he'd grown to admire in their travels these past two weeks? No—he didn't believe he could . . . at least not until she pulled a weapon.

And he couldn't act on supposition. The King had tested her and ordered that she accompany them, which meant that there had to be some grander scheme to all this. He kept still and silent, waiting for her explanation.

"I did know, yes. As did Regis, and perhaps one or two others. I think Cid suspected—he's nearly as brilliant as you are, if a lot more experienced—but I'm not sure."

The veil of disguise had truly been lifted at this point, if she was referring to the King so familiarly, but he ignored the change for the moment and focused on checking the information she'd presented with what he remembered in the days leading up to their departure. To the untrained eye, His Majesty had appeared perfectly composed, if a bit weary, but to Ignis, he seemed resigned and distracted. Everyone in the Citadel had attributed this to the recent draw on his strength from the recent battles between the Glaives and the Empire's forces, or perhaps to having his hand forced to accept the treaty and formally capitulate so much territory to the enemy.

Ignis had assumed this as well, but there had been something particularly odd about the way His Majesty had chased after them on those front steps with his infirmity bared for anyone looking through the gates to see. Ignis had taken his time walking to the car when the others had left, and he had lingered within earshot _just_ long enough to catch the weight in King Regis's tone when he asked if Noctis had been "ready to leave home behind." There had been heavy emotion behind the words that hadn't quite sat right with Ignis, but he'd dismissed it at the time.

So evidence of her truth existed, but it was hardly enough to draw a conclusion.

"Did he order you to keep your silence?" It was an obvious question, but he would infer nothing from a conversation with such high stakes.

She nodded. "Yes, but no longer. He feared you would all grow too suspicious about this mission if you knew my true credentials, but it would be safe to reveal them once this happened." She stopped suddenly and inhaled a small, sharp breath. "You . . . _do_ know where this is headed, correct? You know how this ends?"

" _If_ this isn't all some sort of misunderstanding, then yes, of _course_ I know." If the King truly was dead, then Noct would have to take back the Crystal, regain his rightful place on the throne, and ascend to become the Chosen King at last.

If this was real, it meant that Noct's destiny had finally caught up with them all, which meant that her history and experience was no mere coincidence. Was she in charge of their mission now? He didn't care for that idea, but would concede if it was somehow proven that those were His Majesty's intentions. Authority was a complex matter for Ignis. He would obey his orders without question or hesitation—and his deference to those above him was strictly adhered to until Noct's safety was called into question. He had also been thoroughly trained in taking charge himself, though he had only infrequently exercised this tactic over Noct, choosing to save such drastic measures for when he was being unreasonably reckless. He preferred the idea of being the one calling the shots during such uncertain times, but now he was unsure. Could this girl be taken at her word?

"So the King's aim was to leave you in charge of ensuring Noct takes his rightful place. You'll forgive me if I suggest to His Highness that we not defer to your judgment until your story can be corroborated."

Her eyes grew wide. "No! That wasn't his aim at _all_. Let's make one thing clear right now—Regis's final words to you still apply. Noctis still has the final say on what our next move should be."

"And you? What is your purpose in this mission, then?"

"You saw it that night in Longwythe. I am nothing more than a safety net."

The heat in his face threatened to rise at the mention of their poor showing that evening, but he ignored it for the moment. "Forgive me, but you seem a rather powerful piece in this game to act as a mere safety net, _Your Majesty_."

She blanched at his honorific, and though he showed no outward signs of weakness, he regretted allowing his temper to get the best of him. Tentatively, she reached across the table to place her hand over his, but she stopped short, likely unsure of his reaction. She settled for letting her hand lie near his as she steadily met his eyes.

"I know you don't owe me anything, but I beg you to keep silent about your suspicions of me, whatever they are, for just a while longer. Trust in your king's judgment for now, and know that your silence is for Noct's safety alone. I'm going to need the group's trust for whatever insanity is likely to result from this news, and I need to be the one to control who knows what and when. Please, Ignis."

Her hand did finally brush against his fingers, and he allowed the contact, though not as a showing of support of her words. She stood and leaned across the little table, her eyes arresting his.

"I swear to you, on everything I am, on anything you wish me to, I mean you all no harm. And when this day is over, I promise I will tell you all who and what I am."

He had no choice but to trust her—for now—given her actions towards them thus far and the fact that it was his king's wish. He pulled his hand away and spoke in a voice like ice.

"Very well, you have my silence, for now. But know that I shall be watching you very closely today, and if any part of your story proves untrue, if you have in fact betrayed us, know that I will find some way to put a blade in you, despite your skill and supposed station. And I will take great relish in it."

Her expression remained calm at his threat. "I understand, but remember this: if I had wanted you all dead, I could have simply stood back and watch it happen that night."

He clenched his teeth and lowered his gaze to the worn, wooden floorboards next to the linen table. Taking a slow, steadying breath of the salty breeze and wondering how it was possible to process such devastating news in such a stunning locale, he nodded once in acknowledgement.

"Let us go tell the others, then."

Though his composure held fast as he made his way back to the suite, his eyes now darting to every table and catching sight of every paper with similar headlines glaring across the front, his mind was racing through the possibilities. Where would they go now? What would they do? How could the five of them manage to take back the Crystal from the Empire—alone? Where were their allies in all this, and could they be recruited to help? How many had survived? Was it even safe to contact them and give their position away?

"What's that look for?" Noct asked when Ignis had closed the door and fixed him with a stare that probably held too much of his desolation for all to see.

Most pressing, how could he tell Noct that his father was possibly dead? That it was time for him to take up the standard as he'd been avoiding all his life? The idea struck him to simply stand back and allow Laura to handle this, as she'd apparently known it was coming all along, but no. He wouldn't be petty in a moment like this and shirk his responsibilities.

Gladio took the paper from his nerveless fingers. "It's in all the papers," he explained as Gladio brought it up to his face to read.

Prompto leaned over his elbow to look, and Ignis closed his eyes briefly at his hesitant, "Insomnia . . . falls?"

"Wha—?! This your idea of a joke?" Noct demanded, rounding on Ignis.

"I need you to calm down so I can explain."

Noct took several threatening steps in his direction, clenching his fists at his sides. "I'm as calm as I'm gonna get!"

"There was an attack," he stated passionlessly, hoping he could somehow pass his control onto the one who would now be expected to lead them all. "The imperial army has taken the Crown City."

"As treaty room tempers flared, blasts lit the night sky," Gladio read, pacing slowly across the suite. It was only as Noct dashed away to read over Gladio's arm that Ignis allowed himself to hang his head. He felt rather than saw Laura take a step closer to his side, but he didn't acknowledge her presence, nor did she make any move to touch him. "When the smoke about the Citadel had cleared, the King was found . . . dead."

"No, wait, hold on . . . but the wedding! Altissia!"

"That was the plan. Yet the reports of the invasion are all the same," Ignis said. "How could every headline in the kingdom be wrong?"

The surface of Noct's eyes grew shiny with unshed tears as he looked out to the tranquil turquoise waves shimmering in the new morning sun. "Lies . . ." he let out on a shaky breath.

". . . if only," Prompto muttered from the corner of the room, his head hung low.

Gladio looked up from his reading, his face hard. "What else do we know?" When Ignis shook his head in response, Gladio turned to Laura. "You?"

"I have no contacts in the city. I'm not truly with the Kingsglaive, as you already know, so I know what you know."

Technically true, and yet she had left out the most important bit of information regarding her foreknowledge. Ignis had always known her to be particularly cautious about what she said to them, but viewing this conversation from the other side had him wondering just how much truth she'd been feeding him while leaving out the rest.

"Then we can't be sure until we see it with our own eyes," Gladio answered.

Prompto nodded in agreement and turned toward the four of them. "And that means we go back to Insomnia."

"Are you insane?" Laura asked coldly, her eyes darting wildly around at the four of them. "You can't go back."

"Might not be safe for us there," Ignis said.

"Might not be safe for us here," Prompto argued.

There was absolutely no logic to that particular argument, as, if Laura's story was to be believed, the King had died to get them out of the city they would be returning to. However, there was some small measure of safety in the rumors now being spread around about them, and surely, the last place the Empire would expect to find them would be heading _toward_ the disaster? The Crown City wasn't without its own extensive defenses, including the Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard, so Laura's assessment that the Empire's forces would have taken a devastating blow was a point in favor of taking the risk. It would likely take a day for them to rally and begin concentrating on tracking Noct down, at the _very_ least—longer if Insomnia had put up a greater fight. And since King Regis had been prepared for this, Ignis was wagering that the battle had likely been vicious.

But that particular thought brought him little comfort.

Keeping a low profile, however, would be paramount, which meant keeping Noct's temper in check. Could they manage such a feat?

Ultimately, no matter how vehemently Laura disagreed, the decision lay with Noct. This would be the perfect moment to test whether she would hold true to her word.

"Turn back?" Gladio asked solemnly, looking over at Noct, who had collapsed into one of the lounge armchairs and was staring blankly at the slate tiles beneath his boots.

Noct shook his head slowly, but his voice was rough with repressed emotion as he responded, "Yeah."

* * *

Though the radio kept flipping through channels of static and the whine of the windshield wipers glided smoothly over the rain pattering on the windshield, Ignis felt the weight of the silence in the car from each of his four passengers sitting stiffly in their seats. He squinted into the haze of rain on the horizon, his senses on high alert for any blockades or ambushes as they drew closer. Not once had he witnessed rain in Leide since they'd left—why had the weather chosen today, of all days, for this downpour?

"We need to stop in Hammerhead and see if we can get at least one burner phone," Laura advised. "If the Empire has the means to track your phones, none of them will be safe to use again."

"Perhaps it would be prudent to consult Cid on the matter," Ignis replied. He glanced up in the rearview mirror briefly to gauge her reaction. As far as Ignis was aware, His Majesty had kept in touch with Cid over the years, and if anyone could confirm or deny her story here in the outlands, it would be him. Would she grow nervous at his mention they speak to him?

"While getting Cid's advice is a good idea, it's actually Cindy you want to talk to about the phones. She's a mechanic by day, but a hobbyist engineer by night. From the way she talks, that woman could probably cobble together a working phone with a tea kettle and some string."

"I didn't know that about her," Prompto murmured.

Gladio continued to flip through the staticky channels as the silence took over again. It was another several minutes before Laura said, "I can't believe I haven't thought to ask. Do you all have family in the Crown City?"

No one seemed eager to answer, but after several moments, Gladio finally said, "My dad's the King's Shield. You might've met him the day you sneaked in—Clarus Amicitia, Duke of Myrl. If King Regis is dead, then so is he. Got a little sister and some servants who're like family though. Soon as we get a phone, I need to track 'em down."

"My mom and dad do some kinda research downtown," Prompto said, "but I never really ever see them. I kinda have no idea if they made it until we can make some calls."

Ignis had mentioned once to her that his parents lived far from the Citadel when she'd asked, and that he hadn't seen them since he was three years old, when he'd been taken to the Crown City to attend school. Still, he answered, "My parents live on the outskirts and may have survived. My uncle is an advisor in the Citadel, however. If the rumors are true, he is likely passed."

How many years had he worked alongside his uncle and not taken greater advantage of that familial connection? Until he'd unexpectedly begun receiving the occasional letter from his mother, Uncle Caeli had been the only source of updates on his parents. It seemed ridiculous now that a couple hours' drive fighting traffic to the outskirts had kept him away since she'd established contact, but then he had to keep in mind just how all-encompassing, how very all-consuming his duties had been. Until they'd left the city, Ignis had never had what the others referred to as a "day off."

He cherished those few letters he'd shared with her over the last three years, even if it often took him an entire month to write a response in the spare seconds he could find here and there. He vowed to himself that, when his duty was done, he would track them down to learn of their fate.

Laura seemed to know exactly what was on his, and likely all their minds. "I promise, I'll help you find them all when this is over."

Ignis caught her somber eyes in the rearview mirror and nodded his thanks, though her promise would mean little to him until she had given a full confession and cleared the air between them. Under orders or not, royalty or not, his trust in her had been shaken, and though she'd held true to everything she'd said thus far, he needed her inconsistencies resolved before he could fully trust her again.

Gladio and Prompto muttered their half-hearted thanks before it grew silent, and Ignis began to grow more and more concerned for Noct's stillness in the back seat as the miles flew beneath them.

"Noct—" he began, but Gladio's exclamation and a voice from the radio cut him off.

"Got one."

" _No one has yet been able to grasp the extent of the damage, but what can you tell us about the situation in the city?"_

A second newscaster answered the first's query. _"Occasional outbursts still occur around the_ _Citadel_ _, but the imperial forces have successfully quelled most sources of unrest."_

"Why does it sound like they're reporting from the Empire's side?" Prompto asked.

"Shh!"

" _Nevertheless, the streets bear the scars of war."_

" _Reports have now surfaced that_ _Lucis_ _was itself arming for an offensive ahead of their clash—"_

"That's not true!" Noct burst out.

"SHH!"

" _This battle may be remembered as the most violent in history. We'll be airing more updates as they become available. Now over to Phil to tell us what we can expect of today's uncharacteristically wet weather."_

"Looks like it was a good idea to keep a lower profile," Gladio said, turning the radio down. "Think we should ditch the car?"

"No way," Noct interjected before Ignis could respond.

"Conspicuous though it may be, the Regalia affords us a more reliable source of transportation capable of fitting all five of us, not to mention her bulletproof windows—all features which can't be attributed to the models found out here," Ignis answered.

"Don't be surprised when that decision gets us chased across the continent," Laura warned.

Prompto voice trembled as he asked, "You think people'll turn us in?"

"Difficult to say. The general populace trusts the Empire about as much as they trusted Insomnia, from what I've seen. That doesn't mean we don't stick out like sore thumbs in this ride. We may be able to get away with the Guard and Glaive uniforms now that the King's forces are leaving the city, but the car's another matter."

"Let them come. They'll wish they'd never found us," Noct growled under his breath before growing sullen and silent once more.

It wasn't until they had left Hammerhead with four of Cindy's doctored SIM cards inserted into their phones that Noct had begun to rant, which was honestly a relief to Ignis. After witnessing the death of his nanny in his youth followed so closely by the assault on Tenebrae, Noct had retreated into himself so deeply that Ignis feared for his ever fully recovering. It had taken years of gentle coaxing with a dash of discipline to lure Noct from his shell of apathy, and even after all this time, Ignis felt that he had only been partially successful. Should he retreat to that place where no one could reach him today, Ignis feared they would all be doomed.

"You mustn't lose faith," Ignis said emphatically. There was still the possibility that the reports of King Regis's death were mistaken, even if appeared more and more likely that the invasion itself was truth the closer they drew to the city. He wished Cid had been present at the garage when they'd stopped by. It would have been a comfort to have Laura's issue behind him, but it seemed he would be forced to wait a little longer to have her loyalty verified.

"Really. Can faith stop a fleet of imperial dreadnoughts?" Noct asked, his voice rising in volume as he gestured to the sky, where yet another dreadnought vibrated the windows as it flew overhead to the plume of smoke rising on the horizon.

"Just give it a rest," Gladio muttered.

"MY OLD MAN HAD PLENTY OF FAITH," Noct cried out in a hoarse voice.

Ignis noted Noct's use of the past tense in his outburst, and he had to take a moment to wrestle down his own grief. Though just as distant as his uncle, King Regis had been the closest thing to a father Ignis had ever known. If Noct believed him to be dead . . . but no, there was still hope. There had to be some hope.

"Enough."

"But the Empire lied," Prompto argued. "They betrayed us."

"Conjecture gets us nowhere," Ignis cut in before Gladio could grow impatient. "We're searching for truth."

"And all you'll find are lies—like that ceasefire," Noct said.

Laura let out a long, weary sigh. "You can't really be that naïve."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I mean your father knew from the moment the Empire brought the treaty forward they were going to use it as a means to infiltrate the city. It was all he could do to get you out and make plans to save as many citizens as he could."

"What are you talking about?" Noct demanded. Ignis glanced up to catch a glimpse of them, but Laura must have moved, for he could only see one of Noct's eyes, a hard expression on his face as he stared in Laura's direction.

"Use your head. Why would Niflheim even offer a treaty when they were slowly wearing Insomnia down?"

"They weren't—"

"They wanted the Crystal and the Ring, and what better way to get them than to receive a handwritten invitation through border patrol? It's how that man got in to kill your grandfather; it's probably how that daemon got in to attack you as a kid. Security at the ramparts was your weak point, and I'm betting it was only too easy to take the Wall down once they got inside. And now they have everything they want."

Ignis couldn't understand why she'd begun this now, with them so close to the city and so very close to meeting whatever obstacles they would have to fight past to learn what they needed to learn. Though he disagreed with her tactics, as well as her surprising lack of tact, he remained silent and listened carefully to her words. Privy as he was to Lucis's precarious situation in the war, why hadn't he reached these conclusions himself? Had he been so completely blinded by his loyalty that he'd lost the ability to see the situation objectively? Had it been his hope for peace that had kept him ignorant? The thought that he had somehow failed to see this coming despite his suspicions regarding the treaty troubled him greatly.

"Then why the hell would my father agree to the signing? Just how many did he sacrifice in the name of protecting me? What kind of coward was he?!"

A violent shuffling came from their direction as both Gladio and Prompto yelled, "Hey!"

Ignis slammed on the brakes, skidding the car to a slippery screeching halt in the middle of the road, and turned in his seat to raise the dagger he had surreptitiously summoned to his free hand. But as he took in the scene, he lowered the blade to his lap before anyone noticed its sudden appearance.

Laura had grabbed the edges of Noct's jacket into her fists and pulled him close to her blazing eyes, where she was currently staring him down—hardly an offense worth killing her for. Ignis himself had often entertained the fleeting fantasy of doing the very same thing as a teenager, which had led to many a private moment taken in the parking garage—collapsed against his car's steering wheel in an attempt to collect himself.

"Do you think for a moment you can pull your head out of your own ass and imagine what it felt like for him to send you off knowing he wouldn't live to see you again?" she hissed. "You might not realize what your life means to this world, but he did. And if you ever grow up to become even half the man he was, you might have a chance of pulling this off."

As she released her hold on Noct, she met Ignis's eyes and nodded subtly. _You see? I didn't hurt him_ , she seemed to say with her expression. He wondered if she had heard the crystalline sound of his summoning over the commotion. He hoped the threat of it implied that she didn't have his complete, unreserved trust just yet.

Noct, for his part, sat pressed sideways against the back window, gaping wide-eyed at Laura.

"It's all right, Ignis," she said, gesturing toward the road for him to continue.

He turned back without a word and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal once more. The Regalia glided smoothly down the rain-soaked asphalt, and he silently thanked the Astrals that one aspect of this dreadful journey home could be depended on. It wouldn't be much farther now until their fears were confirmed.

He heard Laura take a deep breath behind him before reciting in an almost robotic tone, "Regis agreed to it because he had no choice. He knew he had to use your marriage as an excuse to get you out of the city so you could fulfill your greater calling and save the world, even if it meant sacrificing Insomnia itself."

"And how did he know all that? How do you know all _this_?"

"The Crystal showed us both."

"You can only connect with the Crystal if you've got the Ring, and for that, you have to be a Caelum," Noct argued. "Who are you really, Laura? I'm not stupid, you know. There's so much about you that doesn't make sense, including whatever went on between you and my dad to make him want to send you with us so suddenly."

A surge of pride brought a smug smile to Ignis's lips for Noct's assessment. Ignis may have been the source of the rational, well-planned ideas between them, but people often overlooked the quiet, brooding royal. There was more going on beneath the surface of those tired eyes than anyone could know, and when pressed, he was capable of proving that he had a keen mind.

"Yes," she acknowledged in a low voice. Ignis looked over to see Gladio turn nearly completely around in his seat to watch her. "I had always planned to do so at some point. I wasn't trying too hard to hide myself, you know. I wanted you all to know and trust the real me, but I was to keep my silence until you were safe."

It grew quiet in the car, with each occupant hanging on what her next words would be, but none came.

Noct finally said, "And?"

Ignis heard her scoff. "And we're about as far from safe as we possibly could be. You've all decided that the best course of action is to drive _into_ an invasion in the Crown vehicle dressed in Crownsguard fatigues. All you need is a fracking crown on your head and a royal fanfare to play your entrance. But I'll abide by your wishes and protect you, even if I think it's a stupid idea. Just remember what I told you that night in Longwythe. Decide if it's worth it."

"Oh yeah," Noct growled, and even Ignis was surprised at the vehement violence in his tone. He wondered what the "it" they were referring to was that could evoke such a response. "It's worth it. But how do we know we can trust you?"

"Because despite my reservations, I'm still going to stand by your side and help you fight your way into whatever mess is awaiting us. Because I've already saved your life once. And because your father trusted me."

"Does this mean that your refusal to kill does not extend to MTs, and possibly human imperial soldiers?" Ignis asked.

He'd been trying not to think about what he may have to do in mere minutes, as it could possibly be the first time he would ever have to drive a blade into human flesh. Despite his private reservations, however, he had no doubts that he could do his duty in retribution for his homeland and King; he'd been allowing the ruthlessness and desire for vengeance to build inside him since the moment he'd read that headline.

He wasn't certain about Laura, however, until she answered.

"Oh yes," she said, her voice full of venom. "We can't take back the city, but we're sure to run into a few soldiers as you look for whatever it is you're hoping to find. I'll be there, right beside you all."

Ignis's gaze flickered over to Gladio for a moment, who narrowed his eyes suspiciously back at Laura. He maintained his stiff, twisted posture the rest of the drive, seemingly intent on leaping into the back seat should Laura prove treasonous, and for once, Ignis gave no indications to dissuade him.

As Ignis approached the imperial inspection point that had been set up at the first barrier to Insomnia's ramparts and saw that it was crawling with Magitek armors and soldiers, he prayed to Shiva for the first time in years that they would be able to keep Noct safe through this day.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Though rumors have been often spread about the existence of Ignis's parents, anything regarding them is not canon. His uncle's name and what he does in the Citadel is made up by me. Gladio's family's title is likewise made up, as is Prompto's parents' profession.


	13. Chapter 13

Even if he lived to be a hundred years old, Ignis would never forget a single detail of that hour he stood on that cliff and watched as the only home he'd ever known burned itself out. Ash and billowing black smoke veiled the once familiar skyline, and the heavy stench of charred flesh was thick enough even from this distance to make his eyes water as it clawed its way down his raw throat. Maddening impotence flooded him as he stood there staring up at the dark underbellies of Magitek engines and dreadnoughts making their way into _his_ city.

He did his best to swallow the loss he felt hollowing him out.

A small, tinny voice from Prompto's phone ripped him away from the waking nightmare. _"_ _As to ceasefire discussions between the two nations, all provisional terms have been suspended in light of recent developments. Moreover, in the wake of the news of King Regis's death, we've now received word that Crown Prince Noctis and the Oracle Lunafreya have also been pronounced dead."_

He went still, holding his breath to hear more as his hand paused over the call button on his own phone, but a soft cry from Noct had Prompto immediately turning off the broadcast.

"Keep it on!" Gladio instructed.

In his haste to obey while protecting his screen from the rain, Prompto fumbled awkwardly with his phone, dropping it to the rock below. As he chased after the skittering plastic, Noct turned to snap over his shoulder.

"DON'T BOTHER!"

Uncertain as to whether Noct was referring to the phone or the broadcast, Prompto froze in indecision.

Honestly, despite the bleak nature of the report, Ignis's hopes for the King weren't quite obliterated yet. Noct was clearly not dead, after all. Perhaps reports of the King's death were just as false. As to Lady Lunafreya's fate . . . he wasn't even certain why they would be reporting her death along with the fall of Insomnia. Had the Empire attacked Altissia as well?

With a soft sigh, Ignis leant to pick up Prompto's mobile and hand it to him, keeping his eyes locked on his own phone's screen and wishing with every ounce of his hope that it would display a connected call.

Much like Laura, his mother had been conspicuously unresponsive when it came to establishing an open line of communication. It hadn't particularly upset him at the time, but standing on that overlook and realizing that he had no means of contacting her or his father only intensified his powerlessness. The only family who'd never seemed to mind associating himself with Ignis and who might have had the information he needed was just as certainly dead as Gladio's father. His may not have been a family of Shields, but any Scientia in service to the Crown would die for his liege just as surely as an Amicitia; there was no doubt in his mind.

Astrals, he'd promised he would finally schedule a lunch with his uncle when he returned. He'd given his word.

Uncle Caeli and King Regis—both gone forever. It couldn't be possible, and yet the evidence . . ..

Any family the three of them had remaining had either perished or were about to with the Wall now nonexistent and the city open not only to MTs and soldiers, but also to the incoming hordes of daemons when night fell again. Lady Iris had some small amount of combat training, as did his uncle, but Prompto's parents and his own had none to speak of. Ignis could only hope that enough Kingsglaive and Crownsguard had survived to protect the people tonight.

Another wave of imperial air forces passed over them with a deafening roar, low enough to kick up a cloud of wet mist and splatters of mud, which stuck to his soaked clothes and sent another shiver through him. They would need to leave this place soon, and not only to clean up and change before they all got ill. It would only be a matter of time before someone spotted the dead Prince of Lucis standing on an isolated cliff overlooking his home.

That nearly suffocating sense of helplessness was chased away to be replaced with hope when Noct suddenly brought his phone to his ear, nearly simultaneously to Gladio doing the same. It was who Noct was speaking to that interested him most, so he turned his attention in that direction as Gladio strode closer to the edge of the cliff face to speak privately with whomever had answered his call.

"H-hello? Cor? The hell's going on? Outside the city, with no way back in." There was a brief pause before Noct spat, "'Makes sense'? Are you serious? What about ANY of this makes sense!?" He clenched his free hand at his side, his knuckles turning white as he jabbed at the air in frustration. "The news just told me I'm dead—along with my father and Luna."

Ignis's heart dropped when Noct sucked in a sudden breath before going still. He spun around to face the battered city, but Ignis had already seen the empty, wide-eyed horror in his eyes before his back had turned.

"Right," he mumbled in a low, defeated tone before lowering his phone.

Ignis stepped up quietly behind him, waiting for the words that would confirm his fear, but Noct merely stared vacantly out over the Allural Deep to the skyline.

"What did the Marshal . . . have to say?" he asked carefully.

"Said he'd . . . be in Hammerhead. He's uh . . . gathering our forces or somethin'. Tryin' to figure out what happened."

Having finished with his own phone call, Gladio drew closer. "And the King?"

It was clear Noct didn't wish to say the words aloud, so when he merely turned back toward the stacks of black smoke bleeding into the grey sky, the four of them did the same, silently holding vigil for all they had lost. Ignis ignored the rain dripping from the tips of his hair, onto his glasses, and down his cheeks as he silently wondered what on Eos they were to do once they'd met with the Marshal.

"Got a hold of Iris," Gladio sighed after several minutes of silence had passed between them. "She's with refugees bound for Lestallum." His voice grew low and husky as he added, "Dad didn't make it."

"You have my deepest condolences, Gladio," he replied, meeting his eyes, but his words felt empty. _He_ felt empty. "And Master Jared and Talcott?"

"Yeah, they're with Iris. Dustin and Monica got 'em all out safely."

"Prompto?" Laura asked hesitantly, looking back to where he'd resumed his pacing and dialing behind them. "Have you been able to reach anyone at all?"

She'd kept quiet and out of the way up until this point, likely knowing that her presence was salt rubbed into the bleeding wound of their loss. At the sound of her voice, however, Ignis took a moment to indulge that terrible, ugly inner voice that whispered to him that she could have prevented all of this, but logic held it fast in the darker depths of himself.

He made a half-hearted attempt at taking the high ground and imagined that if she was truly loyal to Lucis and as respectful of life as she appeared, the guilt of her involvement must have been tearing at her. _Something_ had certainly summoned a feral ferocity in her as they'd engaged the MTs and soldiers guarding the shattered rampart, as Ignis had never seen her move that quickly or viciously against an enemy. She had blurred gold around the edges as she flashed through the Wall's old passageways, warp-striking and slashing at men and MTs alike with near reckless abandon—a cold, almost inhuman expression twisting her features in the moments she'd paused long enough for his eyes to focus on her. The bloodlust he'd worked so hard to gather within himself had been released unsatisfied—for which he wasn't certain whether he was grateful or resentful—as the four of them had merely had to finish a few MTs off before jogging to catch up with her.

At the very least, she'd proven she could be trusted with a weapon near the Prince, but then, he'd known that already.

"No," Prompto replied, his lower lip trembling. "Guess they're busy with other things." He let out a half-hearted chuckle and raised his shoulder in an attempt at a shrug.

Laura's expression crumpled as she strode forward and threw her arms around his neck. "I'm so sorry, Prom," came her muffled voice from her shoulder.

Prompto bit his lip, his eyes filling with tears. He cast the three of them a guilty glance before bringing his arms up to return the embrace. "I don't think it's your fault."

"Night's falling soon. What now, Specs?" Noct asked softly, looking up at him with a lost, helpless expression that unnerved him.

Loath though he was to drive in the dark, he offered, "I can take us to Hammerhead this evening. Our first steps should involve assessing the situation before we determine a course of action—identifying the state of our allies. For that, we'll need to see Master Cid and the Marshal."

A snarl curled Noct's lip up as he glared over at Prompto and Laura pulling apart from their embrace. "Yeah. Identifying our allies. Starting with _her_." His frosty eyes didn't waver as he marched past the two of them in the direction they'd parked the car. "Sorry Prompto, but there's no point standing around here anymore."

"Oh . . . kay?" Prompto said hesitantly, glancing down briefly at the mobile still clutched in his hand.

"We'd best make haste," Ignis added as he followed behind Noct at a brisk pace, ignoring the chafing of his wet jeans against his thighs. "Noct won't be dead forever. And now that the Wall has fallen, I imagine communications between the city and the outlands will remain open to you."

"Yeah, you're right. Guess I can keep trying," Prompto muttered. "No going back—only way's forward."

"No going back," Noct agreed. "Let's go."

Ignis did his best to shake the mud from his shoes before stepping into the car, but keeping the carpet and leather clean was going to be a lost cause today with their wet clothes. He would either have to have it detailed before they left Hammerhead or, if they didn't have the time, ask Cindy if she had time to spare while they were otherwise engaged with Cid and the Marshal.

He immediately turned the heater on full-blast as soon as he shut the door behind him, hoping to thicken the air enough to chase the chill from recent events. As he executed a three-point turn over the muddy ruts of the path, Ignis felt two light taps to his shoulder. "We shouldn't do this in Hammerhead. The rain's letting up. Take us to the closest haven, Specs."

"Will we not be seeing the Marshal today?" Ignis asked toward the rearview mirror. "There's still work to be done, and a caravan might be more comfortable for cleaning up."

"No. I want _this_ taken care of right now," Noct growled.

Though it was unwise to do so, given the bumpy terrain and the possibility that they could still be ambushed at any second, Ignis flicked his eyes up to meet Laura's. They shared a quiet moment, both knowing full-well what 'this' was referring to, before Ignis said, "Of course, Highness."

Spending the night at the closest haven to the city while enemy forces were still pouring into the area—it certainly wasn't the wisest course of action, but he supposed that a campsite would be a less likely place to look for a dead member of the Royal Family than the nearest point of civilization.

Dusk had fallen by the time they reached the main road, and as they turned right, Ignis imagined that it wasn't just he whose eyes lingered to the left, where a wall of glowing red brake lights were stopped at the imperial inspection point. Flashes of eerily-lit clothing passed between the vehicles—shadows of outlanders seeking information and refugees wandering aimlessly, likely looking for a ride to the nearest safe place.

Would that they could help them, but they couldn't afford to draw attention to themselves just now.

"Don't suppose the Crownsguard is still active," Gladio said, turning to look through the back window as they reached full speed.

"Wouldn't count on it—not with the Marshal out here."

"Yeah . . .. Wonder if any of the Glaive made it."

"Captain Drautos has my number. I would expect him to at least attempt contact as soon as he is available—assuming he survived, of course."

"Right. Just wondering how many we got left on our side."

"You aren't alone in that regard."

A thoroughly unsatisfying sponge bath from a bucket of hot water followed by a set of clean, dry clothes were the first order of business for everyone when they arrived at the rain-soaked haven, though it had at least stopped actively falling from the sky by then. The night quickly grew cold and still—even the daemons and wild animals were far quieter than was usual for this area. The silence was fortunate, in Ignis's opinion, as they were disturbingly close to the imperial inspection point, and he appreciated the ability to clearly hear the slightest of movements for leagues in all directions.

As much as he hoped everyone would stay safe this evening, he also wished the five of them wouldn't be disturbed.

Ignis shivered a little in his jacket and turned to his kitchen tables as the others set about assembling the campfire and sleeping areas. Gladio had wordlessly taken it upon himself to watch Laura as though she were a fugitive about to turn on them at any moment, but Ignis saw no need. The longer she remained in their company, the more he realized that he would have done the same in her position, which was to obey the word of his liege, no matter the order, to protect the Chosen King.

Master Cid or the Marshal would verify her loyalty in the morning. As to the rest of her confession . . . well, that was to come.

At a complete loss as to what to serve that would comfort Noct while simultaneously feeding Laura and satisfying his own nutrition requirements, he finally decided that he would cede his own desires and focus on the first two goals for this evening. As he began slicing up potatoes to make dish and chips for them all, he sighed to himself and made a mental note to pick up more supplies while they were in Hammerhead. If they were to be on the road and on the run for an indefinite period, perhaps he should look into what it would take to begin making his own cooking oils. Perfecting his dish soap recipe, after all, had not only been a diverting challenge, but had also proved to be an excellent avenue for saving money.

There was another thought—they would need to be even more cautious with their funds than before, now that they had no end date to this journey.

He couldn't help but notice the way the chairs were arranged this evening as they sat down with their meal. Instead of placing hers next to his as she had done every evening they had camped, she'd settled across the fire from them as though she were on trial. The four of them sat with their plates held stiffly in their hands, waiting, while she folded her legs in her chair and set her supper in her lap. She quickly plucked a still-steaming chip from the plate and popped it in her mouth.

It was difficult to tell, given her distance, but he thought he heard her mutter, "God, these are _gorgeous_."

They waited in stony silence.

After nearly two minutes of them watching her inhale her meal in heavy and awkward stillness, she looked up at them. Why on Eos had she chosen now of all times to suddenly gain an appetite for his cooking? That was, if one could even consider simple fried potatoes "cooking."

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, looking down at her plate. Her tone took on a soft gravity as she continued, "I don't even know where to begin. You'd think I would after having this conversation so many times in my life, but I never do."

"Why don't you start at the beginning?" Noct retorted. "Who are you, Laura? _If_ that's even your name."

Her gaze grew flinty as she pointed a stern finger at him. "First of all, _that's_ going to stop right now. I admit—I've kept . . . oh, so many things from you, but I have _never_ lied to you." She relaxed her posture, and her voice grew gentler as her eyes found his as though she were speaking to him personally. "Every moment you saw of me was real."

Ignis allowed himself a small, cleansing breath. Of every possibility he had imagined over the course of this day, her confession would already be far less sinister than the worst of his fears. In the moments between wrestling his grief beneath his composure, he'd pondered what it would mean to him if the bright, vivacious woman he'd given so much of himself to in these last two weeks had never been anything more than an illusion to trick them all into trusting her.

"So . . .." Noct trailed off.

She cut him off in a voice that cut through the air like steel, "I'm not human."

"The fuck does that even mean?" Gladio demanded.

Ignis could only sit back in his chair and assess her—from her bare feet tucked beneath her to her haunted eyes. He crossed his legs and rested his plate on his shin. If she wasn't human . . . he thought back to his suspicions back in Galdin. Astral. She simply _had_ to be the avatar of Shiva. Even in this human-like Messenger form, her appearance seemed almost otherworldly—when she wasn't ill. She'd reminded him of Shiva on that very first night, with her skin glowing blue in the moonlight. He wondered if the Messenger that had accompanied Lady Lunafreya most of her life exhibited any similar signs of divinity.

"You're a High Messenger, are you not?" he asked, leaning forward. "An avatar of one of the Six?"

"What?" Noct asked. "I thought she was a Caelum. What she said about connecting with the Crystal—and the way she looks."

Ignis glanced quickly at Noct before returning his attention back to Laura. He hadn't thought of that possibility, but those were factors that could fit the scenario as well. The intensity of his confidence faltered as her expression grew bewildered. "No—to both those. Remember? I was the Queen of Palomia? I mean that I'm not from this planet at all."

Astrals. In his haste to explain her past, he'd completely forgotten to assume her every word as truth and take into account her royal status.

"So you're like, an alien?!" Prompto gasped. "Whoa!"

She grimaced. "That's not the word I would prefer, but essentially, yes." Her bearing transformed as she straightened and lifted her chin, and for the first time since meeting her, Ignis caught a glimpse of the shadow of the monarch in her. "My full name is Laurelín Tildari Haránathat Ni'annen, and I am the last living Lliamérian, which was the name of my species."

"You don't look old enough to be queen of anyone. You look like you're about my age," Noct said.

"Looks can be deceiving. To be honest, I've lost track of how old I am. I've spent time on planets where days last anywhere from five minutes to a hundred years. I could leave now, spend a thousand years on a planet three universes away and two thousand years in your future before returning to you tomorrow morning. I've lived years that have been undone for everyone but me. How could anyone keep track?"

"Give us a guess, then."

"Noct—" Ignis interjected in response to his brusque tone. No matter the severity of situation, it was in their best interest to keep the conversation as friendly as possible while she was openly offering information.

"If I were forced to make up an estimate, I'd say I'm somewhere in the region of 7200 years old, give or take a couple hundred years."

The wake of her declaration was followed by several seconds of silence, filled only by the popping firewood between them and the cut-off yelp of some unfortunate nocturnal creature likely being torn apart by a daemon.

"Dude . . . no way," Prompto said under his breath. "You're _immortal_?"

She nodded. "Though I _can_ be killed."

Ignis could only sit back in his chair, stunned. He couldn't even begin to fathom the span of it. How much could a single person learn in seven thousand years? And all that power—for all they'd witnessed her do, Ignis suspected that she had been concealing from them the extent of her abilities so as not to draw too much attention to herself. And yet she had also confessed that the Crystal limited her magic here. What feats was she capable of on another world?

He'd been right—she was no mere queen; she had essentially just confessed to being a goddess, no different from an Astral.

As it had after Longwythe, horror flooded him anew at every memory of their nights by the campfire, where he had so foolishly shared those childish little pieces of his insignificant human life as though they were precious ingots of mythril. How incredibly dull he must have seemed to her as she sat there by his side and feigned interest in his yearning to see the stars or some drab little city across the ocean when she had walked on _other worlds_? To her, he must have seemed a dim, inexperienced child.

 _My, how the tides have turned_ , he thought to himself mockingly.

"As I told your father when I first arrived in Lucis," she said, looking over at Noct. "I'm a traveler, just passing through, searching for the universe in which I grew up. While I can control where I land if I've been there before, I lived in that universe before I learned I had these abilities, so I can't find it. It's . . . complicated. I've been searching—for thousands of years now. There's often trouble in the places I land, so I help when I can."

Noct leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What about what you said earlier? With the Crystal?"

"The moment I landed in Lucis, your Crystal reached out to me, actually to set me on fire at first. It doesn't seem to care for my energy any more than you first did. But after a bit of a struggle with it, I saw a vision of your father being attacked, the city burning."

"I told you," Noct snapped. "The Crystal doesn't work like that. It only speaks to the King. I don't think it would even speak to me without the Ring."

"That's because you're not telepathic. The Crystal is; the Ring merely assists the king with the connection. But any telepath could theoretically connect with the Crystal in a similar fashion as the Ringwielder. Gotta have one 'elluva defense though."

They'd asked for this—demanded her full confession and wanted her to hold nothing back. As ferociously as Ignis had always sought the truth in his life, there were moments such as these when he questioned the consequences of his guiding philosophy—even if the next moment's puzzle never gave him pause.

But this. Astrals, she'd played them all for fools.

If she was telepathic, then every moment Ignis had spent with her as he'd felt and thought things for the first time in his life had been laid bare to an audience without his permission. Even in this very moment, she could possibly be reading his thoughts. No moment was safe any longer if she was near.

He did his best to shut his mind off. Was such a thing even possible?

"Sweet Six. Someone tell me this isn't happening," Prompto pleaded.

Gladio rose slowly from his chair and took a threatening step closer to her. The shimmering outline of his sword flared in his hand before the steel solidified—cold and deadly.

"Put the sword away, Gladio," she said calmly. "I'm not here to hurt any of you."

"You could've done something. You could've _said_ something," he growled. "The King. My dad. All those people. We could've done something. And then you've been spying on us . . . gods damn _TRAITOR_."

The end of his word was cut off in a pained gasp as he raised the blade to her throat. She stiffened, but met his gaze steadily.

"Would you kill your king if he were the one sitting here?" she asked deceptively softly. "Your father? This is what they wanted. Your lives—Noctis's life—for theirs."

"RAH," he snarled, taking another threatening step forward, but Ignis noted that he was careful to hold the blade still.

"Gladio—" Ignis warned.

Laura's eyes fell closed, but her knuckles turned white as she gripped her chair arms tightly. "You'll have to strike me unarmed, I'm afraid," she said, so gently it was as though she were soothing an infant to sleep, "because I will _not_ raise a weapon against you."

"Please, don't do this," Prompto whimpered. "Gladio, c'mon, man. This is nuts. Think what you're doing."

Gladio hesitated. He turned toward Noct, looking for confirmation, but Ignis could only read indecision in Noct's eyes. Sure enough, Noct twisted his mouth in doubt before looking to Ignis.

Whether Gladio had any intentions of striking or not, it was hardly good form to hold a blade's edge to the throat of an unarmed woman, who had, as of yet, confessed to no crime. "She has a point. Our duty, first and foremost, has always been to protect Noct, as it was theirs," he answered. "Actions made in haste for revenge's sake will not make reparations for all that has been lost."

"What about your uncle? Your parents? Your king?!" Gladio demanded.

"My personal feelings on the matter hold no bearing on this decision. Nor should they for any of us. Duty comes first the same for us as it does for her. It is merely our responsibility to ensure that her actions were not treasonous. Given that Noct has survived a devastating blow to the kingdom, I can only surmise for the moment that she is telling the truth."

Gladio deflated immediately at his words, lowering his weapon and taking several staggering, retreating steps backward toward Noct, but he remained at the ready with the blade gripped at his side, his manic glare not leaving Laura. Ignis was somewhat surprised at his lack of control, even considering the extenuating circumstances. Untried though they were, Gladio had been raised for duty as he had. He'd always had the tendency to allow his temper to rule his head in times of stress, but never to the degree that he'd threaten to make his first kill in such a dramatic fashion—as though he truly wanted revenge on her.

Laura let out a long, shaky breath and opened her eyes to Ignis. "Thank you."

"I'll have you know that I still intend to verify everything you've said with the Marshal and Master Cid, and I still have questions for you myself."

"Of course. Ask me anything you wish."

"Have you been spying on us this whole time?" Noct shot at her before Ignis had the chance to gather his thoughts to ask her a question. "Manipulating us?"

Ignis had read the odd science fiction book to Noct here and there in his youth and was aware that, at least in the realm of fiction, there were several types of telepathy. Perhaps she didn't have access to their thoughts in every moment. A pernicious idea wormed its way into his imagination, and though he was loath to poison what were once the happiest nights of his life any more than had been already, he _needed_ to know the truth.

"Was that your true motivation for wanting to touch us? To gain access to our thoughts?"

She huffed angrily at Noct's inquiry first, but when she turned her eyes toward Ignis, they seemed to die a little in the same way they had in those days after Longwythe. " _This_ , right here, is why I don't make a habit of telling people. I began this conversation stating that all you've known of me has been the truth. Setting aside the fact that I'm not the sort of person to do such a thing, which you all should know by now, I couldn't even if I wanted to. The moment I touch your mind, you're aware of it. Of course, I could break into your mind and take anything I wanted, but _believe me_ , you would know very well what I was doing the entire time."

Gladio looked to Noct as though verifying whether this was an acceptable explanation. When Noct nodded, Gladio dismissed his sword with a violent jerk of his arm and threw himself into his chair, but he still sat stiffly, ready to jump to his liege's defense at any moment.

"And let me remind you," she continued, " _you_ were the ones who offered yourselves, so the accusations of manipulation are quite unfair. I will warn you, though, that I do possess a sort of passive telepathy, which allows me to locate you if you're nearby and tell the general state of your mood, but I swear to you, it tells me no more than anyone else can tell from looking into your eyes."

By the grace of the gentle goddess Shiva, he didn't want to believe her, but he did. Omissions or not, her word had thus far proven true, and it wasn't as though His Majesty would have hand-chosen a loyal emissary willing and capable of violating them so intimately. He relaxed somewhat into his chair, relieved to be able to think freely within the confines of his own head again.

"After the vision, I needed to gain context for what I saw, so I did some research at the palace and the library. We saw each other there, Ignis," she said, nodding at him. "Afterward, I had to sneak in to warn Regis, but it turned out that he already knew, and had for some time."

"Then why didn't His Majesty simply escape with Noct as soon as he'd learned?" Ignis dared to ask.

"He was convinced he was being watched. Had he alerted the Empire he was aware of their plans, he assumed they would have merely escalated the violence in order to kill them both before they escaped, catching more people in the crossfire. But I don't believe he imagined the campaign they pulled off would be so utterly devastating. He likely would've tried for that plan had he known."

Ignis shook his head. "There's an issue with your story. If you met the King on the day we met in the throne room, as you've implied, then it's impossible for you to have gained his trust so thoroughly and so quickly. He knew he was on the brink of war. You could have been an enemy spy."

"Ignis," she sighed. "Did you honestly believe Regis would just have me wave some swords around and then send me on my merry way with the greatest hope for the world into enemy occupied territory? I allowed him to use the Ring and the Old Kings to search my mind to determine my loyalties, so he would know my intentions. Only then did he ask me to protect his son and his friends."

"See, but that doesn't make sense either. Why would you do that?" Noct asked.

"Because your father was a good man. For all the pains he took to spare his people, he didn't deserve his fate."

"That's not enough. I mean you. Why would _you_ protect _us_? This isn't your world. Hell, this isn't your universe."

A shadow passed over her eyes as she considered her next words, and her gaze grew far away. Her tone was wistful as she replied quietly, "I do what I do because it's right. Because it's decent. And above all, it's kind. Just that. Just kind."

Countless questions had just been buzzing through his thoughts, hadn't they? But he, nor, it seemed, any of the others could think of a single thing to say as the campfire continued to crackle merrily in defiance of the five mourners surrounding it. It also appeared as though the reprieve they had been given of the daemons of the night was to be rescinded, as in the distance, Ignis heard at least five of them cut through the skin of the world and bleed into existence.

"He wasn't alone, in the end," she whispered, a sheen of tears making her eyes sparkle in the firelight. "That telepathic connection with the Crystal alerted me when it—when it happened. I was able to hold him as he . . . passed. Then I brought him to Galdin Quay, where he was able to say goodbye to you, Noctis."

"I remember," Noct gasped, placing his fingertips to his forehead delicately. His eyes, too, grew wide and shimmering. "Last night, I dreamed of him. He . . . touched my face."

Ignis's heart began to beat a little faster when Laura nodded in confirmation. If she was capable of staging a farewell between Noct and his father in a dream, could she herself appear in one's dreams? Perhaps through time? He'd never received confirmation that his vision had been of Shiva; the High Messenger had only identified herself as Rose, but at the time, who else could he have identified his gentle guardian as but one of the Six?

His question was far too personal to ask in front of the others, and certainly inappropriate in this moment of mourning. He decided to wait until they were alone.

"He might not have said it, but he loved you _dearly_ , Noctis. He wanted me to tell you how sorry he was that he never took the opportunity to tell you himself. Everything he did, including distancing himself from you, was borne as a result of his desire to protect you from all you would face one day. He wanted so much to tell you everything that day we left, but he couldn't find the words."

"Ahh," Noct gasped, gritting his teeth and shaking his head as though clearing it. Though it took several more seconds before he was able to look up at her again, his face held no expression as he asked in a dead tone, "Are there any other secrets you're keeping from us?"

She scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. "Noctis, I just told you that I am seven _thousand_ years old. Of _course_ I have secrets that would likely upset you just as much as tonight if you knew I had them."

"Then tell—"

"And I _hate_ being that person, because I've been on the other side of this equation before, but you need to trust that I will tell you everything you need to know when you need to know it. I am sorry, but there's just too much of me to share all of, especially since I shouldn't be the focus of your thoughts tonight."

Noct hung his head to stare at the rough stone at his feet. A somewhat shaky sigh escaped his lips before he got to his feet and fixed her with a cold stare.

"Fine. I'm done. You guys coming?"

Gladio and Prompto stood to follow Noct toward the tent, but Ignis remained where he was. "I should like to clean up first, but I'll be along shortly."

"Whatever. Come inside when you're done. We have things to talk about."

"Of course, Highness."

Ignis locked eyes with Laura as the others passed by, and he waited until they had all settled in the tent and zipped the door closed before he stood and walked over to where she was seated. He stopped and looked down at her. Still, she didn't say a word. Her chair was farther from the fire than theirs were, and he shivered at the sudden drop in temperature.

"Allow me to take your plate."

"Please, tell me what you're feeling right now."

His mouth parted in surprise before he could suppress the reaction. Why should his mortal opinion be of any importance to her?

"I'm not sure what to feel. I think I believe your story, if that's what you're asking." He paused for a moment before continuing in a harsher tone. "Besides, can't you tell for yourself?"

She shook her head. "I can see your mental 'facial expressions' now; you're all feeling betrayed and grieving, but that's no more information than anyone else could tell, really. Anything deeper, and I'd have to be inside your mind."

Her words stirred something in him, a wild thought that he wished to know what that would feel like—with his permission—her kindness nestling in his brain and filling him with warmth just as her company had these past two weeks, but he had no true context for contemplating the sensation.

She looked down at the rune-marked floor, her voice growing pained as she murmured, "After everything that's happened today, you all have to sit here and deal with my baggage. I'm so sorry."

"Well, you certainly provided us with a distraction, Y— . . . Your Majesty," he let out on bitter, breathy chuckle. "Even that isn't correct, is it? How does one refer to a goddess on your world?"

"So help me, if you do something stupid like prostrate yourself at my feet, I will never forgive you," she said bleakly to the stone below, her expression hidden by a veil of her hair, but when she raised her head to him again, her eyes were wide and distraught.

"I'm not a goddess, Ignis—just a woman, subject to the same feelings and wishes you are. I know it's hard to believe after all you've heard, but _every_ second of the last two weeks I've spent with you has been real. I'm still the same person I was in Galdin, begging you to call me Laura."

"I have a question."

"Please—ask it. There's so much more I can tell you now that you know about me."

"Have you ever, at any point in my life, infiltrated my dreams?"

Her eyes went wider as her mouth fell open. Shaking her head jerkily, she answered in a tone that almost sounded offended to Ignis, " _Never_. Without your permission, that would be a violation of the highest order."

"Very well," he said, bending to take the empty plate from her limp hands. He couldn't decide from her answer whether to feel relieved that she hadn't been manipulating him since he was a child or disappointed that she hadn't been his guardian angel, but he thought it would be best to retreat for now and clean up while he considered all he had experienced today.

"I'll leave you with your thoughts for now. Come and find me when you've finished," she said to his back. He turned to find her standing from her chair. "Regis wanted me to say some things to you—privately. If you're ready to hear them . . ."

His king's final commands—he wondered what they could be. "Allow me to finish cleaning up, and I'll be with you shortly."

She nodded and stepped further into the dark, toward the lower outcroppings of rock on the edge of the haven.

Ignis rushed through the dishes he hadn't managed to take care of before serving the meal, not bothering to reheat the water in the dishwashing bucket—just this once. But his ear and his thoughts were focused entirely on the conversation currently taking place in the tent without him and the two possibly lifechanging ones he was about to have. As he dried and dismissed each dish, he gazed up at the stars peeking through the dark clouds and organized his thoughts in preparation.

"If she's not human, can she even feel pain, love, loss? Does she even understand what today means to us?"

"We can't assume anything anymore."

"What if she's lying about everything? We should leave her behind while we still can."

"You sure we still can? We might have to kill her."

"What if she's reading our minds right now? She'll know that now!"

"She hasn't done anything to us though. You really think you can kill her just like that?"

"What if she's the one responsible for all of this?"

Shocking though it was to hear them voiced aloud, Ignis couldn't blame the others for their doubts, as he'd experienced every one in some form or another. But as his heart reacted automatically to the words, he realized he'd already made his decision—pending confirmation tomorrow, of course. They were all missing key clues regarding her character that would have a considerable impact on the outcome of all this. They needed to keep her—not just for her wondrous revelations and all she could teach them, but also because she was a powerful ally in what had now become a war.

As far as his personal rapport with her . . . well, his previous hopes had been rendered utterly absurd, of course. He may as well attempt to court Shiva herself. Her species didn't matter to him in the slightest; the issue was her godhood. He couldn't even begin to contemplate all she had seen and done in her long life. He felt so small and insignificant in comparison—no matter what he accomplished from this moment forward, he would never earn or become enough to ever be anything more than a dull servant and a child.

 _Oh_ , but what would his life be like if he dared to reach for more?

This silly moment of self-indulgence was getting him nowhere and distracting him from more important business. Ignis was and always would be an advisor to the future King of Lucis—nothing more, nothing less, and the time had come to receive his final commands from his former master so that he might guide his current one to victory. With a satisfying clatter of plastic on stone, he dropped the bucket unceremoniously next to his prep table and left in search of his orders.

He found Laura perched on a ledge, her bare feet dangling off the haven and her toes brushing the dirt. As he drew closer, he could just make out her soft, sweet voice carried on the breeze, and like everything else with her, the sound of it insistently plucked at some chord of instinct in him. He stopped, watching that silver stream of light trickle from her hand and disappear into a shadow by her feet. Curious, he took a few steps closer to see what sort of magic she would be sacrificing her energy for at this time of night when she was already so clearly ill.

But the glow faded and her voice halted at the sound of his heels against the stone. She looked up at him as he approached, but he brushed past her and leaned down close to find the focus of her magic. As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he could just make out the tender green tendrils of a sapling reaching up in the dim glow radiating from the haven runes, stretching for her knees like a devoted pet.

A single blossom unfurled before his eyes—white, luminous, and delicate in the halo of blue light, with hundreds of overlapping ruffled petals like a jagged tulle skirt of a ballerina. Ever so carefully, he reached out and brushed the edges of the velvet petals with his fingertips, grateful he hadn't put his gloves back on after doing the dishes. As the little tree shivered at his touch, that floral scent that had enticed his nose so many times since meeting her wafted towards him.

"It's called a kithairon," she said when he'd turned his admiring gaze toward her, but he couldn't help but frown at her increasingly haggard appearance. "They were one of my favorite flowers where I was born. It's for Regis."

That familiar bite of irritation when Noct would do something particularly reckless forced him to clench his teeth to hold his tongue, but honestly, a seven-thousand-year-old goddess should have known better. He searched for the most delicate words that would express his displeasure without overstepping his station.

"While I understand your desire to mourn him, I don't believe he would appreciate you wasting your precious resources on something as trivial as gardening for his sake—particularly after falling ill in order to be with him last night."

"Of course you would've figured that out."

"You were particularly peaked that first day in the throne room as well, where telepathy was also involved, if I'm not mistaken. I'm quite capable of putting two and two together."

"The two incidences aren't exactly the same thing," she sighed wearily, curling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "S'not like telepathy in and of itself makes me sick."

"Then for the sake of our future success, I do humbly request you refrain from performing any acts, telepathic or magical, which incapacitate you so thoroughly."

"It's not always evitable."

"As your actions at the Wall today? You had the support of three soldiers at your back and another with a gun, and yet you ran yourself ragged while we were forced to follow behind."

"That was different," she replied, her tone growing hard.

"I would be most grateful if you would explain to me how so, particularly if you are to continue working with us and I am to include you in our battle strategies."

Her arms tightened around her knees as she looked away from him. "I'm not stupid, you know," she said in a small voice. "I know you've never killed anyone before."

Dread washed over him. "That's true," he admitted.

"I couldn't allow you all to take your first life—not today, of all days. As it is, I certainly failed Gladio in that regard."

Seeping cold fury iced his dread over. "You had _no_ right—"

"I know—you're absolutely right. I'm sorry. I'm not supposed to interfere like that, but I just couldn't bear to face that haunted look in all your eyes on top of everything that's happened—"

"We've trained for this all our lives. With all due respect to your status, do not do us the disservice of infantilizing us."

"Aren't you listening to me? I won't do it again, I promise. I just wanted you to have _one_ more day with your innocence intact."

"I am no saint," he said harshly, "and neither are the others."

"Oh yes you are. You won't realize it until you aren't any longer, but you are." With a sigh and a slight groan, she teetered to her feet, and he reached out to grip her elbow and steady her. The expression that crossed her face turned hollow—mask-like in a way that forced those seven thousand years to become suddenly visible. "Besides, you'll get your fill of blood before this is over," she said bitterly.

"How many have you—" he began, but he found he hadn't the courage to complete his hasty remark as her eyes widened in horror.

"If you . . . care anything for m—please . . . don't ask me _that_. You think me some sort of supernatural assassin; star-crossed queen; or, by the light of the stars, a fracking goddess. But that's not who I am, Ignis. I despise those images of myself. This," she pointed violently down at the blossom, "this is what I am. This was who my people were. I'm a poor testament to their legacy, I admit, but those two hundred years I spent singing and growing and studying were some of the best years of my life."

His attention fell to the fledgling tree, so vulnerable and alone in the dry, cracked soil. He wondered if it would even be able to flourish in this harsh environment, as lush as it looked.

"I sang a house once, did you know?" she said in a subdued voice laced with wistfulness.

He hadn't known, of course. And he couldn't fathom exactly how one "sang a house," but he imagined it had involved something similar to what she had just been doing to that tree.

"I brought a redwood seed from Earth and crossbred it with one of our Arkhein trees from Lliaméra. I scouted the spot—deep in the Palomian forest next to a lake surrounded by kithairon trees. For two hundred years, I studied and poured myself into that house.

"Gods, you should have seen him—intricate carvings in dark wood, walls lined with shelves bursting with books—enduringly peaceful. His upper floors broke through the forest canopy and overlooked the lake. You could stand outside in the afternoons and touch the quiet in the air. In the fall, the leaves would set the forest afire with a mosaic of color that would reflect the water, coloring the light streaming through the balcony the most breathtaking gold. In the spring, the kithairon would bloom and turn the entire shoreline pink, white, and crimson, and the cool breeze would waft their scent right inside. Their petals would fall from the branches like rain, and I would dance in them, bathing myself in their scent. It was times like that I knew, for just a moment, that I was exactly where I belonged."

She turned to face him. "That, Ignis Scientia, is who I am. That," she gestured to the little tree at her feet, "is who I am. Let me have it, if only for a moment."

Her description of home sounded like paradise to him, which seemed appropriate, given her status. He wondered whether it still existed, or if, like his home, it too had been destroyed in a war. He wished with all his heart that he could have seen such a stunning sight, but whether it had survived or not, her home lay in a realm that would forever be denied to him.

"Forgive me. I've spoken carelessly more than once this evening."

As always, she waved her hand in a dismissal. "I'm fortunate you all aren't vivisecting me right now. It wouldn't be the first time."

His eyebrows shot up at her words, but to cover his surprise, he chuckled down at her. "Well . . . more due to the lack of proper tools and facilities—perhaps a lack of imagination on behalf of the others."

Astrals, had he just inadvertently threatened a deity?

Fortunately, she seemed to have understood the intention behind his remark and lowered her head to snicker, but when she looked up at him again, her expression had grown grave. "I'm sorry too—for everything. I have far more to beg your forgiveness for than you do of me, but I won't ask for it. It wouldn't be fair to any of you."

"It would be foolish not to verify your story with every source available to us, but pending tomorrow, you have mine."

"Thank you," she said, closing her eyes. "I can't tell you how much that means. I—but we've discussed me more than enough for today. Did you come to hear Regis's message?"

Ignis also closed his eyes for a moment and nodded, silently praying that whatever his king's final commands were, he would be able to see them out successfully. He feared he'd already failed too many times in watching over Noct and couldn't bear the thought of letting the King down further.

A warm hand tentatively inserted itself into his cold one, the fingers entwining with his, and he opened his eyes to see her gazing at him.

"There were many things he regretted not saying in his life before it was too late, but there were only two people in the world he wanted me to pass a message on to. Ignis, he thought you were the most intelligent, dedicated young man he'd ever met, and he wanted me to thank you personally for looking after Noct so lovingly when he couldn't. You became more than he could have ever hoped to find in an advisor, and as he watched the two of you grow up together from afar, he came to see you as a second son. He loved you too, Ignis, and he was so very proud of you."

Though he clung to every syllable that issued from her mouth, he couldn't continue to look at her as she spoke. This wasn't a command at all. This wasn't at all what he was expecting. He raised his eyes to the sky, hoping that gravity would keep the tears that were welling in his eyes from falling as he began to retreat from his day-long battle with anguish.

"I can see you all smothering your grief," he heard her say. "And while the ability is necessary because it allows you to do what needs to be done, you all need to take a moment, even if it's only just a moment, to feel it. It'll tear you apart in the end if you don't. Believe me. You won't like who you become."

She released his hand then, and he tried to grasp after it while still looking up at the peaceful sky. But the top of her head came into his view, and he felt her body press against his, her arms wrap around his shoulders, her hands come to rest at the base of his neck and in his hair. He shivered at the sensation—and at that of her warm breath hitting the chilled skin of his neck just beneath his collar—and he finally let go, bringing his arms around her body, fisting his hands in the soft strands that hung at her back, and gripping her as tightly as he could without hurting her as he buried his nose in her sweet-smelling hair. Every thought and fear he'd been studiously avoiding all day today suddenly poured from him like blood from a fatal wound.

Oh gods, it was gone—all of it. The only home he'd ever known, most of the people he'd ever met—gone forever. Everything he had prepared for—the briefings, the inner workings of the royal court, the endless nights spent studying everything Noct might need as King—all his devotion focused on preparing for a future that no longer existed had been rendered meaningless. It was all washed away, abandoning him alone in the wilderness with what little family he had left and nothing but their steel to protect them—and her.

And His Majesty—of course he would never presume himself a member of the Royal Family, but his heart ached knowing that the King had felt the same as he and that he would never again hear him refer to him as "my boy." He'd been so kind to him his entire life—taking him in, seeing to his education, paying him a salary in addition to room and board in the Citadel—and even if His Majesty's fond regards had made life in court more difficult for him, Ignis had no regrets. He had loved his king as deeply as he did his prince, and he would continue to protect Noct with his life as testament to his fealty.

He pulled away, removing his glasses so he could wipe away the two tears that had managed to escape despite his best efforts. Placing them back on his face, he raised his eyes to the cloudy but glittering sky one more time to take a deep, shuddering breath, filling his lungs to the brim with cold night air to cleanse him of his inner daemons.

"Forgive me—yet again," he said, finally daring to look down at her, but her answering expression was fathomless.

She carefully placed a hand over his heart. "Don't ever ask forgiveness for feeling, Ignis, especially with me. As I told you this morning, you have my sword as well as my ear any time you need it—and that goes for all of you."

The words reminded him yet again that this gentle kindness, no matter what it made him feel, didn't make him special. She was a goddess tending her sworn flock, and he was merely her charge—at the very, very most, a friend. And now that she had done her duty, it was far past the time to tend to his.

She seemed to notice the change in his bearing because she stepped back from him suddenly, dropping her hand. "Go on, then," she said with a nod toward the tent. "Do what you need to do, even if it means supporting him and denouncing me. I'll understand."

"Thank you," he said with a slight bow of his head. "And goodnight."

Once he had removed his shoes, socks, and garters and stepped into the tent, he sat cross-legged at the end of his sleeping bag and allowed his eyes to adjust to the weak light emanating from the lamp in the corner. Despite the magazines Gladio had left in the corner, curatives Noct had created and abandoned without dismissing, and the deck of playing card left strewn wildly near the door, there was far more space between their four beds without the fifth tucked between Ignis's and Prompto's bags. He knew Laura wouldn't be joining them tonight and, after the conversation the others had been having this evening, he wondered if she ever would. Too many events today had been out of his hands—his private excuse for that disgraceful display of weakness just now—but this, at least, he had some measure of control over.

"Like, after Cor, I don't even know what to do," Noct was saying in a hushed, frenzied tone. "Do I get what's left of the Glaive and Guard together and take back the city? Or do I . . . I dunno, march on Gralea? Am I gonna have to power the magic users now? Put the Wall back up? I can't even do that! My dad never told me anything—never prepared me for this."

"Noct—" Ignis began, "calm down."

"It's gonna be okay, man. We'll figure it out," Prompto said.

"Figure what out?" he snapped. "He held up that wall with his life, and it slowly brought him to his knees. By the end, he could barely stand on his own two feet. The cane wasn't merely for show, you know."

"For all his efforts, the Wall couldn't hold back fate," Gladio said gravely.

"Yeah, and now it's my turn. I've gotta—"

"Noct," Ignis said sharply, cutting him off before he could work himself into a panic. He softened when Noct looked over at him with wild eyes. "There's no sense in getting worked up in the face of the unknown. Tomorrow, we'll see the Marshal, where we'll gain a clearer understanding of what lies in store for us. No matter what, you must remember that you are not alone in this."

"And Laura? What do we do about her? Is she safe to trust, you think?"

Ignis took a deep breath. This is who he was—the logician, the strategist, the advisor. He suppressed every emotion that had built up over the past two weeks and spoke from a place of calm, cool rationality.

"When one is bereft of trust in another person, one must rely on character and actions to judge them rather than speculation, opinion, or emotion. Stripping away every interaction we've had with her to the mere facts, we can see the shape of her person all too clearly.

"She lends a hand to those in need, whether for mundane or extraordinary tasks, and sees the value in those individuals that others, including myself, often overlook. She respects life, perhaps slightly too much in my personal opinion, but that's irrelevant for the moment. Not to mention, she could have allowed us all to die in Longwythe. If our demise is her goal, she has done a most poor job of it.

"Besides," he lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile, "If we left her behind now, I have a feeling she would just follow behind us regardless. She vowed to the King that she would see you through this, and I don't imagine she would simply cast that aside simply because you told her to.

"Given all this, I shall, of course, Your Highness, defer to your decision, whatever that may be."

"Umm, wow," Prompto whispered.

Gladio grunted in disapproval. "You already heard my say."

An eternity seemed to pass as Noct looked between Ignis and Gladio, the indecision written plainly on his face. Finally, he said, "Hell, Specs. How could I do anything but keep her after an argument like that?"

"My apologies, Highness. It wasn't my intention to manipulate your decision, but I felt that someone should defend her if she couldn't be here to speak for herself."

Noct's expression softened into a smile. "You know what? You're actually a pretty good friend."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

But Noct's reply was as serious as it had been that night in Longwythe when he'd returned to the hotel room, nearly shaking from the emotion of whatever secrets he and Laura had shared. "No matter where I am, Iggy, I hope I'll always have you by my side."

Ignis's mouth parted, momentarily at a loss for a response. As far as he was aware, Noct had never once used Prompto's nickname for him, choosing instead to refer to him by his full name or the moniker he'd assigned Ignis as a child. He'd seemed off since that night in Longwythe, but Ignis couldn't imagine what they could have shared in that conversation of theirs that would explain this behavior, even considering all he'd endured.

But as the shadow of that lively, loving child shone through his eyes despite the agony of today, Ignis could only return the sentiment.

"To hell and back again, Noct, there is nowhere else I would ever be."


	14. Chapter 14

When Prompto opened his eyes the next morning after hearing Gladio groan and mumble his way through getting dressed and leaving the tent, he was almost surprised there even was a next morning to open his eyes to at all. After everything that'd happened the day before, it sure felt like the rest of the world should've ended too, right? And then all that stuff with Laura—it was all just nuts. The whole world had gone insane.

He hadn't slept a minute the night before, instead letting all the crap that had happened roll over and over in his brain like clothes in a dryer. His home was gone, along with every place he used to love going: his room with its carefully-curated collection of comic books, videogames, and random half-done model train engines; everything he'd ever taken a photo of, plus all his photos; the shooting range that was three blocks down from where he'd taken his Crownsguard self-defense training; the arcade where he and Noct would hang out and let the hours pass by in a blur of color and sound. And the people. Prompto might not've had many . . . okay, _any_ actual friends back home, but there was still the cute girl he'd always try to get in line for at the grocery store checkout and his running buddy he'd still sometimes pass on the street even after all these years. Sweet Six . . . Lady Lunafreya herself. Were they all seriously dead now?

It was at that point he'd realize he'd stopped thinking about them again, and what kind of selfish bastard was he for not thinking of them first? His mom and dad had barely been in his life since he was adopted, and even though it wasn't their fault, he'd spent most of his life alone until Lady Lunafreya's letter had finally convinced him to get his ass in gear—literally—and introduce himself to Noct. Actually, being out on the road like this had been the closest Prompto had ever come to the concept of family, even if he did always feel like the youngest, least useful one of the bunch.

But with his parents probably dead, the four of them were all he had left now.

Which was why he'd decided he wasn't gonna care that Laura was an alien. Sure, he'd freaked out at first like the rest of them, but as the night wore on and the topic went for another spin in his head, he figured she was the same as him, really. She was a stranger in a foreign land with no one to turn to but the four of them. She didn't belong. She was one of "the bad guys," even if she wasn't. Plus, how cool was it that he'd held an _actual_ goddess in his arms? According to legend, the Six hadn't been seen since the War of the Astrals, which made him the only guy in the entire world to have a deity use him as a pillow. It did kinda suck that she was yet another OP friend that made him seem ordinary in comparison, but he'd take it.

When the heat from the sunrise started turning the tent into a pizza oven, he groggily pulled on his Crownsguard fatigues, persuaded his hair into its usual style before he got too sweaty, and rolled himself outside, leaving Noct alone with his head buried underneath his pillow. Prompto wasn't sure what things would be like when he woke up—Noct tended to avoid stuff like the scourge until it clobbered him. But at least they had important things to do today to keep them all distracted.

Not that all of them really needed the distraction. When Prompto found Iggy at the camp stove as usual, looking perfectly put together like the world hadn't fallen apart, he remembered that not all of them had been as affected by what happened. He wished he could be as calm and unruffled as Ignis had been last night—it was like he always knew exactly what to do. As he flipped a fried egg over with a little frown of concentration before reaching over to the table to take a swig of coffee, Prompto wondered how he managed it. Insomnia had been his only home too; why wasn't he more of a mess?

It must've been the training. Gladio didn't seem to be affected much by losing his dad and home besides being pissed at Laura.

Prompto did his best to plaster a smile on his face before skipping up behind Ignis and leaning over the table.

"Morning Iggy!" he said brightly. "Whatcha got cookin'?"

"I thought croque madame would be suitable this morning," he said quietly. "And do keep your voice down, if you please. Laura is still asleep." He nodded toward the campfire, where that lump of hideous brown blanket lay like an old, oversized turd.

Prompto raised his eyebrows in surprise. "She okay? She never sleeps unless she's used magic."

Ignis pursed his lips, but he didn't look up from the stove. "I believe she was involved in more than one reckless enterprise these past two days. Best let her sleep until we're ready to leave."

"Yeah, good idea." As Ignis removed the last of the garula ham from the grill and began putting the sandwiches together, Prompto leaned his elbows on the prep table and looked up at him. He really seemed okay. There were dark circles under his eyes, but when weren't there? He expected to see _some_ kinda sign that Iggy'd been affected by all this—then maybe he wouldn't feel so shitty about not handling it so good himself.

"Were you able to reach anyone?" Iggy asked without making eye contact.

He ignored the feeling of his lungs shaking as he took in a quick breath. "Nah."

And at this point, he didn't expect to—not that he would stop trying, but his mom and dad hadn't worked far from the Citadel. He bet most of the fighting had taken place _right there_.

"I _am_ very sorry. If I can assist with anything—"

"It's cool, Ig. We're all in this together."

"Indeed we are."

They didn't say another word—even when Gladio returned from his morning exercises all sweaty and surly, or when Noct crawled out of the tent with his eyes still half closed. Prompto hoped those words had seeped into Iggy's skin as much as they were for him right now—they all had something in common: no matter where they were all from and what secrets they were hiding, they'd all lost someone in this war, people important to them. He hoped with all his heart they would all remember that if it ever got out where he was really from.

The death of that treaty was more of a loss to Prompto than it'd been for any of them, really. Not only had he probably lost his mom and dad, he'd also lost any chance at becoming accepted for who he really was.

Now that Lucis officially belonged to Niflheim, he wondered if all the citizens would have to start getting barcodes tattooed on their wrists, too.

Prompto gave Iggy a grateful nod when he handed him the still-steaming egg and ham sandwich. The four of them sat in a half-circle around the barely-smoking campfire in that uncomfortable silence and ate, awkwardly trying not to look at the unconscious pile of brown fabric moving up and down like it was breathing. It wasn't until they'd finished eating and Prompto started folding up and dismissing their bedding that Iggy finally decided to wake Laura.

"Please eat this." He crouched down near her head and held out a plate of eggs and toast.

She sat up shakily, rubbing at her red-rimmed eyes. "Ta," she said in a voice still hoarse from sleep. "M'starving."

"Would you care for more? I need to know before I begin packing up the kitchen."

"No . . . thank you. But let me help."

"Not this morning. Take this time to rest."

And then more silence. It felt like each little request to roll up the tent cords or make sure the fire was put out all the way were made with as little sound as possible so that suffocating blanket of quiet wasn't disturbed. As they hiked to the car, Prompto tried to fish for a topic that would get Noct talking or Gladio to stop guarding Laura like a criminal for a sec, but everything that popped into his head sounded lame. Things got even worse when they started down the road to Hammerhead, with Gladio twisted in the seat and Noct pressed against the window to get as far away from Laura as possible, even if she had conked out the second the car had started. The awkward quiet pressed against his ears—made even more noticeable because of Iggy keeping the top up due to blanket of gray clouds hovering way too close to the ground this morning. He shifted a little in his seat, making the leather creak.

He couldn't leap out of the Regalia fast enough when Ignis pulled up in front of the gas pump at Hammerhead, but as he headed inside the convenience store with Laura, Ignis, and Gladio, he found that their sucky morning wouldn't be cheered up with a little shopping. Clusters of Hunters stood in front of the shelves murmuring urgently, and while they waited for Noct to finish pumping the gas and Ignis went to check on their Ebony supply, Prompto decided to sidle up to one of the groups—three men and a woman all dressed in dark green and black Hunter garb.

"Still can't believe they took Insomnia," the woman said, frowning nervously out toward the main road.

"Was only a matter of time," said the oldest guy, whose face was so scarred up it was difficult to tell what had been an injury and what had been wrinkles. "Walls are made to fall."

"Now that Insomnia fell, are things gonna change around here?" one of the two younger Hunters asked.

"Not at all. We may be Lucian in name, but we've always lived under the Empire's thumb. Just you wait and see. Everything'll go back to normal tomorrow."

Prompto didn't like it—this sense of mixed loyalties everyone seemed to have out here. It made him jittery, like a man on a wanted poster casually walking out in the open. Maybe it was because he felt like his loyalties were practically screaming where he stood on the matter even as he stood there in the middle of that convenience store.

He might not've known what an MT really was, but he'd had to make a decision on the drive to the overlook yesterday before he'd started killing his first ones. It wasn't at all surprising how easy it was to side with Lucis in this war—it'd taken him all of ten seconds for him to think that the parents who'd taken him in had been Lucian, that Noct had been the only friend he'd ever had until they'd left Insomnia together, and no way would he ever betray that.

He'd made his decision then and there, and he was gonna stick with it no matter what happened.

"Hey, Iggy, need some help?" Prompto asked as he spotted him heading toward the cashier with his arms full of black cans stacked in layers of cardboard holders. "Whoa . . . you buyin' the place out?"

"The driver requires petrol just as the car does," Ignis sniffed, placing the cans on the counter next to the cashier. "And due to recent imperial embargoes, I predict these are about to become difficult to obtain on the Lucilian continent."

"Means you're not allowed to say a word the next city we stop in, Specs," Noct sighed, leaning over the counter to put his chin in his hand. "You guys seen Cor?"

"Nah, bet old Cid knows though, if he's back from wherever he went yesterday," Prompto answered. "Can we go visit Cindy and find out?"

Gladio hit him on the shoulder and nodded toward the front door. "No need. Here she comes."

"Where?!" He rose up on his tiptoes to see over the clusters of Hunters, but he didn't catch sight of that glowing bronze skin and golden hair until one of the groups parted to let her pass—like the goddess she was.

"Hey Cindy!"

"Hey," Gladio greeted.

Cindy tipped the edge of her cap a little in response. "Glad y'all made it. No weather for drivin' yesterday, that's for sure. We were worried 'bout you boys when ya didn't show up agin after leavin'."

Ignis turned from paying the cashier and nodded. "Our thanks for your concern. We had a business matter to attend to before we returned."

"Lucky y'all didn't run into trouble last night. Rain usually stirs up the daemons like a behemoth with his snoot caught in a beehive."

"It was an uncharacteristically quiet evening. I'd also expected to encounter more refugees as they fled the city."

"They wouldn't come this way unless they had no choice. Most folks'd leave through the West Gate 'n head for Lestallum. Ain't much to offer here 'sides hospitality."

"That would explain why the haven stayed empty last night," Gladio said. "I'd wondered."

"Where's Cor?" Noct asked.

As Ignis lifted the flats of coffee and began heading for the front door, Cindy eyed the Hunters, waiting until their group had passed them before speaking in a low voice. "Left to see to business, and left y'all a message with Paw-Paw."

"Yeah?"

They all paused long enough for Iggy to hide his haul in the Regalia to dismiss it before they made their way across the sweltering pavement to the garage. Prompto scurried close behind Cindy, hoping to get close enough to find out what her perfume might smell like, but Gladio elbowed him in the ribs before he could get close enough, stared pointedly at her swaying short shorts, and waggled his eyebrows.

Dude . . . he just didn't get it. She wasn't some random piece of meat. Prompto _loved_ her.

"Boss ain't sat still one second since he heard y'all were comin' back. Well . . . ain't hardly sat still since the news came in."

But contrary to Cindy's word, Cid was sat slumped over on a couple of tires stacked by one of the work stations in the middle of his garage. He didn't look up as they entered the dark, grungy room, but he let out a long sigh and set a silver frame on the rusted-out rolling table beside him.

"Crystal and the king's ring—what they been after all along . . ."

So . . . Cid had known too. Had they been the _only_ ones who felt like the ground had been yanked from underneath their feet? It sounded like everyone in the entire damn universe—and even beyond, apparently—had known this was coming. It made Prompto feel kinda stupid.

"So all talk of peace was merely a pretext," Iggy said heavily. Prompto looked up from staring at his boots to see him run his fingers up the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses and close his eyes in defeat.

Prompto guessed if someone as smart as Iggy hadn't seen this coming, he shouldn't beat himself up too much.

"They played my father for a fool," Noct muttered breathlessly, his gaze still blankly locked on the oil-stained floor.

"Don't kid yourself," Cid snapped. He idly reached for a heavy pipe wrench holding down that cursed newspaper and set it across his lap, toying with the handle. "Reggie wasn't born yesterday. Lucis got dealt a losin' hand, and your old man played it the best he could."

Cid might still have been looking down at the wrench in his lap, but the four of them all had their eyes locked on Laura, who was watching Cid with a heartbroken expression. Prompto wasn't all that surprised that Laura'd been telling the truth, though. He'd said some pretty awful things in that tent in the heat of the moment, but Iggy'd had a point last night—she'd always been good to them. It was good to have someone out here confirm her story, though. Maybe Noct and Gladio would chill out a little. Prompto wanted to show his support as defiantly as Iggy had, but he didn't really wanna chance those two getting mad at him. Besides, it wasn't like _he_ was in a position to defend someone the others felt didn't belong.

"He saw this comin' a mile away, and he wasn't gonna go down without a fight," Cid continued. Noct let out a soft gasp of surprise as he looked over at him. "In the end, though . . . well, it just wasn't enough." His eyes found the picture frame on the table next to him, and his voice grew small and thoughtful. "I cain't even remember the last time I saw Reggie. Feels like a lifetime ago. After he became King, I only ever saw his face in the paper."

"Wait—weren't you at the coronation?" Gladio asked.

"Nah, I was long gone from the city. Had a fallin' out o' sorts with your old man," he replied, nodding toward Noct. "Right at the end of the trip. He sided with his paw to scale back the Wall an' let Keycatrich hang out to dry. What he an' Reggie did with the border policy never sat right with me, neither."

"Turned out he was doing them a favor, since he let 'em all hang out to dry later," Noct muttered under his breath, but luckily, Cid hadn't heard him.

" _Still_ think it was a damned fool idea walling it off like that. Look what it's done to you boys. Made yeh soft—not like my Cindy. Little wilderness is good for yeh."

"So you stayed here and started the garage?" Laura asked, shooting a glare at Noct.

Cid nodded. "Ol' fool had already ordered the damn sign fer this place with a damn crown as the logo," he scoffed. "Hammerhead Thickskull—never did git the chance to git 'im back fer that nickname. But I wasn't 'bout to let a perfectly good sign go to waste."

Iggy eyed Laura significantly before facing Cid. "I was given to understand you stayed in touch."

"We buried the hatchet years later, but never talked face to face again. Shoulda paid a visit while I had the chance. Figured the plan when he called the week before you left, then you boys show up. Why wouldja need lookin' after if you was headed straight to Galdin? Well, no use dwellin' on it now."

"Cindy said you had a message for us from Cor?" Noct asked.

"Said he'll wait for ya in the tombs. They're to the northwest of here, just a short ways past the outpost. Find that first." With another sigh and glance behind him toward the photo, he slapped the wrench back on top of the newspapers. He spat out a grunt as he got to his feet and held a hand to his famously aching back. He'd already begun hobbling toward the open garage door when he said over his shoulder, "You need something else, you talk to Cor."

Prompto waited until Cid had gone around the corner before turning to everyone. "So . . . we're s'posed to just . . . find this outpost somewhere? By a random tomb? Why didn't he show us where it was or . . . I dunno, give us more info?"

Noct sighed and started dragging his feet toward the garage door. Prompto leaned in real quick to look at the photo that'd had Cid so interested—was that the King? And a younger Cid? Cor the Immortal? He didn't recognize the fourth guy, but he figured this must've been taken on the trip Gladio'd brought up the other day.

"Another test from the old man," Noct said tiredly from just outside the garage. "C'mon, Prompto, let's make tracks."

"There in a jiffy!" he called out, rushing to catch up and nearly tripping over his untied boot laces in the process. He caught sight of Cid's red jacket ahead of them as he headed toward the diner. "You know, he sure is hard on us."

"I think he's worried about us," Iggy said.

"Yeah, well, he's got a funny way of showin' it," Prompto shot back. "We just gonna ask around for this outpost? Ooh! Maybe Cindy knows!"

"He wants us to prove that we can make it out here," Gladio answered. "I guess making connections is part of that now."

"Well, you can ask around if you prefer," Iggy said, unlocking the car doors, "but he gave us all the information we needed."

Noct opened his side of the Regalia and slid into the back seat. "Oh yeah? Where're we headed then?"

As Prompto shut the door on his side, he leaned forward, noting that Noct wasn't cringing into the door anymore. Even Gladio had relaxed a little—still turned to the side but at least leaning forward to flip through the channels of static in search of any new reports on the city. Maybe things would be better now.

"The only outpost that is both nearby and to the northwest of here would be the Prairie Outpost," Ignis answered, starting the car and pulling away. "It's a few hours' drive, so I recommend taking this opportunity to catch up on your rest, Highness."

"Thank Six!" Prompto sighed, slumping against the door. "I'm wiped."

Laura leaned forward and placed a hand on Iggy's elbow. "Are you all right to drive? I do know how to drive if you're tired."

"I'm quite all right, thank you," Iggy replied politely, but there was an edge to his voice that made Prompto wonder. For as much as he always claimed he preferred staying at a haven to save money, he never seemed to sleep much out in the wild. He was always making these little comments about sleeping easier with civilization nearby or starting to feel "unkempt" when they went too many days in a row on nothing but sponge baths. Prompto was starting to wonder if Iggy liked camping at all.

Laura threw herself back in her seat with a huff. "Stubborn jackass," she muttered under her breath. Prompto looked over at her in shock, and even Noct smirked without opening his eyes or lifting his head from the window.

With the whispery roaring sound her magic made now that she'd aligned herself, she summoned a can of Ebony, popped it open, and leaned forward again to hand it to him.

"At least drink this then, you frustrating creature," she grumbled.

"Oh, _I'm_ the one who's frustrating, am I?" Iggy replied airily, taking the can from her. "I'm not the one who—this is hot."

"What?"

"This Ebony." He paused to take a sip. "It's hot."

Laura sat back again, shaking her head. "Of course it's hot. Why would I give you a room temperature can of coffee when I know you prefer it hot?"

"Do you guys mind? Trying to sleep over here," Noct mumbled.

When it fell silent again, Prompto leaned further into his window, silently holding his arm up to invite Laura to lay against him. She looked like crap, and he knew she'd probably need to sleep more after whatever she'd done. After a second's hesitation, she leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Prom," she whispered.

She smelled like campfire and flowers.

Laura didn't use their armiger much—mainly for her clothes and camping supplies—so maybe she didn't know that theirs would _only_ summon things at room temperature, even if they'd put it in hot or cold. It actually made drinking stuff like sheep's milk kinda gross. He bet the second they got to the outpost and were allowed to talk again, she and Iggy were gonna have some long, in-depth discussion about the science behind pocket universes.

It was the bright sun and the heat radiating through the tinted window that forced Prompto to open his eyes, but it was a close thing to keep from falling back to sleep. The fact that he hadn't expected to find the scenery unmoving when he looked out the window made him sit up a little, careful not to jostle Laura. Looming high above his window, surrounded by more brown, dry dirt was another gray glowing rock of a haven.

"Iggy?" Prompto heard Gladio ask hesitantly. "You all right?"

Prompto turned his head to see Iggy staring wide-eyed out Prompto's window.

"Ehh!" Prompto squeaked before he could stop himself. As Laura lurched off his chest, he looked out the window to search for whatever had freaked out unflappable Ignis. But everything looked normal—a burly Hunter in a sleeveless shirt even strolled behind the car toward a rusty old shed across the street, a dusty dog panting by his side. "What is it?"

"The hell is going on?" Noct demanded in a gravelly voice.

"Ignis? What's wrong?" Laura asked.

Ignis frowned, his eyes raking over everyone and lingering last on Prompto. Prompto swallowed. It'd been his fault he'd woken everyone up, but it wasn't like it was any kind of normal thing for Iggy to make that face at something.

"Apologies for the fright."

"Yeah, sure, but what's the problem? Are we at the outpost?" Noct asked.

"Yes, we've arrived. But an uncanny familiarity stirs in me as I look at this place—as though we've been here before."

Noct turned in his seat to take in the dirt road they came in on, the cloud of dust they'd kicked up still hovering over their tracks. "Course we've been here before. It's just like Hammerhead and Longwythe and every other hot, dirty inch of Leide."

"More run down though, from the looks of things," Gladio said, opening the door.

"Certainly." Iggy waited until Noct had gotten out before shutting both doors while Prompto and Laura stretched and joined them. "Still—we're likely to be more comfortable staying in the caravan this evening than the haven."

"Fine by me," Noct said with a yawn. "Guess I'll go pay."

"Supper requires preparation ahead of time," Iggy said, eyeing the crumbling shell of an old brick building before crossing the road to the camper next door. "I'll see to it."

Prompto and the others threw themselves into the lawn chairs out front while Iggy summoned a large bowl. As Laura leaned forward put her head face-down in her arms, Iggy tossed her a sharp frown, but stayed silent as he summoned a jug of water and began to fill the bowl.

This place just didn't feel right—he didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the old rotting shacks, the bombed-out houses . . . or maybe the crackling electric spire rising high into the air like a red beacon in the distance. It looked to be coming from a walled off area over the ridge, which screamed "fort" to even Prompto's inexperienced eyes.

"So this place used to be Keycatrich?" Gladio asked doubtfully.

Ignis looked toward the north, where through an old twisted tree and on the other side of a cliff, a mass of twisted metal reached for the blue sky in the distance.

"The outskirts, perhaps," Iggy answered. "The city was once a wealthy intercontinental trading post, interestingly enough, where the gil was introduced to Lucil, and I imagine some of that was accomplished via sea trade on Lucinia Sound."

"So you think the ruins are near the sound?"

Ignis summoned a bag to his hands and began pouring what looked like red beans into the bowl of cold water. "I would imagine so. They say the Founder King's statue is the only evidence of the once vibrant city. Not even the relics from the Astral War remain undamaged. I do hope we have the opportunity to see them on the way to visiting the Marshal."

Sensing the beginning of one of his long, boring history lectures, Prompto changed the subject. "So what do we do now? Search every one of these shack things until we find Cor? Where are these tombs?"

"Nah," came Noct's voice from a ways away. Prompto looked over to see him approaching from behind a Culless arms truck identical to the one they saw in Hammerhead. "Monica's waiting for us back there. Said she knows where Cor is."

Laura lifted her head from the table. "You guys are just going to talk to Monica for now, right?" she asked, reaching for the bowl of beans Iggy had placed in the middle of the table. "Nothing else?"

"Yeah, for now," Noct said as he drew closer, narrowing his eyes at her. He handed Iggy the keys to the camper. "Why?"

She looked down at the gravelly ground between her feet and bit her lip for a second. "I'm not . . . well today," she said with a grimace. "If you're just meeting her and exploring the outpost, it should be safe enough for me to stay behind."

"You sure it's that?" Gladio asked suspiciously, clenching his fists at his sides as he stood and put himself between her and Noct. "Sure there isn't some other reason you don't wanna see anyone from Insomnia?"

Iggy turned from handing Laura the keys to the camper and frowned. "Gladio. Enough."

"No, I wanna hear this too," Noct said. "Cid only confirmed my dad knew the war was coming, not that you weren't a threat. You're only still with us cause Cid and my dad haven't talked since he met you."

"I have full confidence Cor will back me up just as much as Regis would have," Laura said, raising her chin defiantly, "so when you find out where this tomb is, come and get me."

"Are you gonna be okay?" Prompto asked. She always came along, even when she had no intention of hunting with them. She'd seemed sick since the night of Noct's bachelor party thing, but even though she'd done nothing but sleep and fight since then, it looked like she wasn't getting any better.

"It was that tree," Iggy said accusingly.

Prompto didn't know what he was talking about, but Laura must've because she shook her head. "It wasn't the tree. It was a subtle spell that let me do what I needed to do yesterday at the Wall. Turns out some types of magic are worse than others to use on this world."

He thought back to when they'd fought their way through the Wall to get to the overlook yesterday. She'd moved way faster than a person should be able to, almost like she'd been constantly warp-striking in a blur of gold. They'd all had trouble keeping track of where she was at any given time and had to follow the golden trails of mist and bodies just to find her. He hadn't thought too much about it at the time because he'd been relieved not to have to handle the soldiers, and after that, their entire world had fallen apart and he'd forgotten about it.

"I'll be fine—just need some more sleep," she said with a soft look at Prompto. "Just come and wake me if you're leaving the outpost, okay?"

"Yeah," Noct grunted and turned to leave. "Sure."

Talking to Monica didn't exactly put their minds at ease about what the city was like inside. When she mentioned that most of the Crownsguard didn't make it through the first round of the battle, Prompto couldn't help but look up at Gladio and Iggy standing stiffly on either side of him. Would they have died in the invasion? As much as he hated to admit it, probably. Gladio and Iggy might've been amazing fighters on the field, but there'd been way more experienced guards on duty that had fallen that day, he bet.

It was selfish of him to think it, but he was glad they'd been out here when the city was attacked. Prompto would've lost them too.

"It was all we could do to escort Lady Iris out of the city. Dustin is with her as we speak, seeing her the rest of the way to Lestallum," Monica said.

Gladio rubbed his hand over his mouth before replying, "I owe you guys big time."

Monica nodded an acknowledgment and faced Noct, bowing. "Be sure to head for the royal tomb immediately, Highness. The Marshal awaits."

"Right."

Without even glancing toward the camper, Noct marched out the sliding rear door toward the rusted-out gate that led to the path Monica had said would take them there.

"So um . . . Noct?" Prompto asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"If this tomb isn't in the outpost, shouldn't we go and get Laura before we head up? She told us to wake her if we left."

"No," Noct said, quickening his pace to a loping jog. Prompto sped up to stay alongside him as the other two took up the rear guard. "We still got the four of us. This shouldn't take long."

The path to the tomb was a long, winding, uphill run along a dusty path that kicked up little clouds as they ran, covering them all in a fine layer of golden dirt and a light sheen of sweat like a gritty, unwelcomed blanket. Leide had been a huge change from Insomnia, but he was ready to move on to somewhere else—somewhere cooler and less filthy—if they couldn't go home.

"So this tomb thing we're headed for," Prompto asked easily, glad for all the years he'd spent running, "does he mean one of the Old Kings' tombs? Are we doing your tour now?"

"Dunno."

"Sounds like it to me," Gladio said.

"Well, what's a tomb doing all the way out here, anyway?" Prompto asked.

"The tombs are said to be erected across the provinces as a memorial to the king or queen who claimed that land in the name of Lucis," Iggy answered. "As the war began to escalate hundreds of years ago and the population began to dwindle, those locations have slowly been lost to time, though I imagine legend of their protective enchantments endure locally."

"Always got the impression House Caelum encouraged everyone to forget," Gladio said.

"If one reads between the lines, one could draw that conclusion. The Marshal and Master Cid should be aware of those which they visited on His Majesty's Bonding of Souls tour, at the very least."

"A first step to taking back the kingdom?" Noct asked. "If Cor's even there when we get there."

"Yeah. Can't keep up with this guy," Gladio said.

"First, the Crown City. Then Hammerhead? Then the Royal Tomb?" Prompto said, drawing a three-pointed line in the air in front of him. How many places were they gonna have track this guy down to before they could get some answers? It'd be nice to have someone who knew just what the hell was going on to tell them what they were supposed to do now, maybe even help them out.

"His nickname should have been Cor the Restless," Iggy muttered.

"Yeah, somehow not as catchy as Cor the Immortal," Gladio said.

"And making it out of Insomnia only adds to his legend," Prompto said in awe. If most of the Crownsguard hadn't made it out alive, then Cor must have been an incredible warrior to manage it. Prompto had seen him several times around the Crownsguard training facility, but since he'd only been there for self-defense training, he'd never gotten the chance to see him actually fight. Iggy and Gladio were ranked high enough to spar with him though, and listening to Gladio do a play-by-play of all their matches while Iggy detailed his "tactical brilliance" made him sound more like a god than a man.

The path had thankfully transformed from dirt to rock, but the incline got steeper as they turned off a fork in the path toward the left. High, rocky ledges stretched above them on either side, making him feel restless and jittery all the sudden. If something attacked them here, there wouldn't be a lot of room for them to fight it, and there were only two ways to escape. His fingertips twitched a little as they jogged, but he tried to shake the feeling from his mind and concentrate.

Noct, beginning to get a little out of breath, tried to let out a sigh, but it came out more like a huff. "Good to know we still have people we can count on outside the city. Cor _and_ Dustin and Monica."

"Speaking of Cor the Immortal, wonder if he knows about our extra passenger," Gladio said bitterly.

"You mean really?" Noct asked. "Dunno. Guess we're about to find out. Cor's got a lot to answer for."

"Do keep in mind that Laura's secrets aren't ours to share," Iggy said with a frown. "Enough of her story has checked out that she should be considered an ally. Should the Marshal prove unaware of her situation, it isn't your place to inform him."

Noct was about to reply—and judging by the angry look on his face, probably with some kinda smartass remark—but Iggy slapped a hand to his back and pushed him to the ground.

"Prompto, look out!" Iggy called up from the ground just as a set of black, sharp claws closed over where Noct's head had been seconds before.

"I gotcha, buddy!"

Oh man, he knew they were gonna be ambushed here—he'd just known it. He summoned both his handgun and the cocytus he'd picked up in Galdin Quay, alternating shots left and right at their flying attacker's white breast—so some kinda giant bird, he guessed.

"They're daggerquills," Iggy said in answer to his thought. He stood and pulled Noct to his feet. "Weakest to daggers, firearms, and fire. Highness, you may want to switch your usual weapon."

Ignis flung a hand over his shoulder, summoned a dagger to his fingers by the tip, and hurled it at the bird Prompto wasn't working on. He followed through with the momentum of his throw, hopping forward a couple of steps on one foot. The blade buried itself into the bird's ribs, and as it let out an ear-piercing shriek, Iggy held out a hand, summoning the dagger back to his palm. Prompto never could figure out how he always managed to summon and dismiss from a distance like that. Even Gladio could only do it if he was touching the weapon.

"Ignis!" Noct called out in that specific tone he always used when he wanted one of them to do their special move.

That kinda sucked. He'd been hoping to be asked to use his piercer technique, but he guessed the better call would be to have Noct warp up there to the enemy. He did his best to chase his inner daemons away with a few more shots to his bird.

"On your mark, Noct," Iggy replied, flinging a dagger at each creature with practiced, almost cocky movements.

Prompto stopped shooting for a second while Noct warp-struck both daggerquills with a thunderous _whoosh-clang_ , burying his own daggers between their ribs. The bird Prompto hadn't been working on fell to the ground, where Gladio raised his massive sword above his head and struck with all his strength, decapitating it.

Eager to make his own kill and prove himself, Prompto summoned a fire spell just as the bastard dove down at him, its vicious black claws extended. He ducked for cover, but it wasn't low enough.

"Prompto!" Gladio shouted.

"Ahh," he gasped as burning pain slashed across his arm, but when it became clear the daggerquill wasn't gonna snap him in half or carry him off, Prompto looked up and hurled the spell at his target. The flask of fire hit its mark and shattered against the daggerquill's neck, frying it in midair with a bloodcurdling scream. The sickening stench of burned feathers and flesh washed over him like a wave as the bird landed at his feet with a sizzling thud.

"Heh, would you look at that, Iggy? You don't even have to cook it," Gladio chuckled, clapping Prompto on the back.

Iggy slapped daggers with Noct in celebration before strolling toward Prompto to inspect the kill. He placed a gloved finger to his lips, tilted his head, and stared down thoughtfully at the corpse as Gladio poked it several times with the tip of his boot.

"Yes, well done, Prompto. A little _too_ well done, in fact. Burned to a crisp, but no matter. There's plenty of meat on the other." His eyes fell on Prompto's arm. "You've been hurt."

"It's fine," Prompto shrugged, looking down at the scratch. If he was being honest, it _did_ really hurt. It felt like his entire arm was on fire. "Not serious enough for a potion."

Iggy held out a hand. "Allow me?"

"Um . . . okay?"

Iggy gently took his elbow in one hand and positioned the other so it was hovering over the still-bleeding gash. He closed his eyes. Prompto was about to ask what he was doing when a sparkling green light floated from his fingers and landed on Prompto's arm. An intense itching bubbling over the wound made Prompto grit his teeth, but he forced himself to watch as it sealed itself up, leaving behind unmarked, bloody skin just as it did when he took a potion.

"Whoa! You can healcast, Iggy? Like a Glaive?"

He took a step back, rubbing at the hand that had cast the spell. "Not with their potency, but I can manage minor scrapes."

"That's awesome! Thanks!"

"Think nothing of it. The opportunity presented me with the chance to practice."

Gladio held up a fistful of vibrant blue and gold plumage and nodded down at what was left of the corpse. "Got the goods," he said with a jerk of his hand, dismissing the feathers.

"Hope we're almost there," Noct said. He began hiking toward what looked like the top of the hill they'd been climbing, and the three of them followed behind.

Prompto slowed as they passed between two enormous stone pillars reaching high above them, craning his neck as far as he could to see the tops. "Whoa," he breathed, pulling out his camera to take a shot of Noct dwarfed by the insanely huge masonry. "You see that, Noct?"

"The huge columns?" Noct said, shaking his head and following Iggy and Gladio up the stone steps to the three-quarter-dome shaped tomb. "Yeah, I see 'em. Come on, Prompto."

"Don't rush it! Even more important to document _everything_ than before!" Because when they took back Lucis, he was gonna be the only one with photographic evidence of their journey every step of the way.

The building was decorated with black stone ribbing that rose to the sky in three sharp points, and over the door to the tomb, a sentinel statue in long flowing robes stood watch. As Noct pushed open the ornately carved door, Prompto snapped more photos of the three of them, framing the shots so that the most interesting parts of the architecture would be in the background.

"This is so cool!" he muttered softly. "How many people've seen this place, d'ya think?"

"No one," Noct grunted, pushing harder on the door, "if this door's anything to go by."

Gladio rolled his eyes and stepped forward to help. "Door's just heavy. Cor must've made it in here somehow."

The inside was just as amazing—stone carvings with swooping flourishes, statues that looked like knights standing guard on either side of a stone king lying on a gilded table in the center, and a carving of a lone woman in long flowing robes standing watch behind none other than Cor Leonis, Marshal of the Crownsguard. He took one more shot with Cor the Immortal in the frame before putting his camera away. He didn't wanna look like he wasn't taking this seriously in front of Cor, of all people.

"Your Highness," Cor said gravely, stepping up to the stone sarcophagus. "You made it."

"Where've you been?"

Cor frowned deeply, but answered, "Gathering intelligence. Interviewing survivors. I have put together a full report, which I will send to Ignis once I've completed my investigation of the lead witness."

"And?" Noct asked tersely. "Give us the short version."

Cor pulled himself straighter, clasped his hands behind him, and lifted his chin. "A report from a Glaive by the name of Libertus Ostium—the Empire was able to overtake the city because approximately seventy percent of the Kingsglaive turned against Lucis and fought on their behalf, including Titus Drautos."

" _What_?!" Noct demanded.

"Drautos was serving Niflheim for over a decade under the name General Glauca."

"The guy who killed Luna's mom?!"

"Marshal," Iggy said, stepping forward, "does Captain Drautos still pose a security threat? He has information on the retinue, including a general idea of our location."

"Doubtful, though it can't be discounted. Approximately seventy percent of the Glaive are now unaccounted for—they've gone missing. And according to Mr. Ostium, another Glaive by the name of Nyx Ulric fought Drautos the night of the invasion—with the Old Wall and the Ring."

"Shit," Gladio muttered under his breath.

"What is it?" Prompto asked in a whisper, looking over at Gladio's and Iggy's shocked faces.

"He's dead," Iggy answered. "No one not of royal blood may use the Ring of the Lucii and survive."

"Nyx . . . I remember that name," Noct said softly. "He's the guy who drove me home the day before we left."

"One more thing," Cor said. "Ostium also reports that Lady Lunafreya is alive. He escorted her through the West Gate the morning after the invasion. She was last seen with a group of refugees bound for Lestallum, but her intended destination was Altissia."

"Luna? What was she even doing in Insomnia when we were supposed to meet her in Altissia?" Noct asked in a panic. "What about my dad?"

Cor shook his head. "The King had entrusted the Ring to her before they were separated. As to why she was in the city, I cannot say."

Noct looked down at his boots, his shoulders hitching on a sigh. "So you wanna tell me what I'm _here_ for then?"

"In a time unknown, only a prophecy keeps hope alive in people's hearts: 'When darkness veils the world, the King of Light shall come.'"

"I know the prophecy," Noct growled. "Been hearing it since I got back from Tenebrae."

Cor's voice grew sterner. "Look at the facts: The Crystal has been taken, the enemy remains standing. Many are dead, but more are alive still. What hope is there for them? The darkness has arrived, Highness. The time has come for you to gather your powers that you may become what you were destined to be."

He held his hand out over the statue lying in front of him. "The Power of Kings—concepts passed from the old to the new through the bonding of souls in the form of spectral weapons of light. One such soul lies before you—the Wise King. To claim your forebears' power is your birthright and duty as King."

"My duty as King of what?"

The defeat in Noct's tone didn't sound like him at all. Even Gladio's and Iggy's eyes snapped to the back of Noct's head, visibly shaken by his words. Iggy especially looked disturbed, his mouth falling open to reveal clenched teeth as he took a hesitant step toward Noct. Prompto knew that Noct had been having a hard time since that overlook, but he'd had the distraction of figuring out what to do next. Now that they'd arrived at "next," his break was supposed to come soon. Prompto just hadn't expected it to be in front of Cor and everyone else.

"How long will you remain the Protected?" Cor demanded impatiently, taking a threatening step toward Noct. Prompto took a nervous step back. "The King entrusted the role of Protector to you."

" _Entrusted_ it to me?" Noct spat. "Then why didn't he tell _me_ that? Why did he stand there smiling as I left?!" he roared hoarsely, slapping a hand down on the sarcophagus. He gripped the gilded edge until his knuckles turned white. "Why—" he took in a deep, shuddering breath, and for a second, Prompto thought he was actually gonna cry right there in front of all of them.

It looked like he was trying to compose himself as he brought his other hand to the table's ledge and looked down at the floor. Prompto couldn't stand to see his best friend like this. He turned away and hung his head, fighting the burn in his eyes as he listened to him grieve. Gone—home really was gone, and Cor wouldn't be the one to bring it back.

"Why did he lie to me?" Noct whispered in anguish.

"That day, he didn't want you to remember him as the King. In what time you had left, he wanted to be your father. He always had faith in you that when the time came, you would ascend for the sake of your people."

It was then that Prompto heard it—the tiny gasps and hitching breaths of Noct in tears. He couldn't help himself; he had to turn around and make sure he'd heard right. He couldn't see Noct's expression from where he stood, but he could see his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Gods, what a nightmare. And now they were expected to just . . . move on and do what, exactly? Hopefully, Cor or Iggy had a plan for them for getting the Crystal once they'd finished Noct's Bonding of Souls thing.

"Guess he left me no choice," Noct sighed. He straightened—his eyes still shimmering, but hard. He held his hand out over the King's statue, and the Sword of the Wise glowed with a brilliant blue light, so bright that Prompto had to throw up a hand to shield his eyes for a second. It raised high into the air before plunging itself into Noct's chest. A cry of denial rose in Prompto's throat, but he swallowed it as the ghostly sword disappeared. A bright, glowing outline of the sword circled Noct a couple of times like it did in all the artwork depicting the King's Royal Armiger before that too, disappeared.

As Noct stood clutching a fist to his chest, staring off with a pained look on his face, all Prompto could think was that this was it. It'd finally started.

"What would be the best course of action now, Marshal?" Ignis asked. "We must come up with a plan for visiting the remaining tombs."

"Calm and collected as ever, I see," Cor said, shaking his head with a curl at the corner of his lips. He looked over at Noct. "That's not the only power your forbears left you. Your journey's just begun. Another tomb is close by. I suggest you head there next."

"So just how many of these 'powers' are out there?" Noct mumbled, still staring down blankly at the Wise's statue.

"I know the location of only the thirteen your father visited. I've enlisted the Hunters. They comb the land in search of the lost tombs." His eyes drifted over the three of them standing behind Noct before he asked, "Where's the girl?"

"We left her at the outpost. She wasn't feeling well," Noct said.

Cor squinted disapprovingly at him. "Go get the girl before you head to Keycatrich. Your father assigned her to protect you so I could be free to protect the people. Let her do her job."

Noct looked up with a snarl. "Did _you_ know she knew too? Did _everyone_ but us know?"

"The signs were there. Those of us paying attention felt something coming," Cor said. "Given the nature of her assignment, she would need to know to do her duty."

"Do you even know what she is?" Noct asked.

Iggy took a step forward. "Noct."

But Cor only shook his head. "She's wrong, I know. I felt it when I fought her and told the King, but he was already aware. Your father trusted her with your life. Don't leave her behind again. We don't yet know what other allies we can depend on."

"Right," Noct said on a defeated sigh. He nodded once, turned, and left the tomb without another word, not even bothering to check if the three of them were following.

Prompto wasn't sure if he was supposed to bow or what—he and Iggy actually hadn't covered greeting the Immortal himself—so he glanced over to see what Iggy and Gladio did, which was pretty much zero help.

Iggy, of course, stood stiffly and bowed nearly in half. "I'll be in touch, Marshal," he said before straightening and striding out.

Gladio just nodded once before leaving.

Which should he do? He wasn't a super formal kinda guy like Iggy, but he didn't think he could just play it cool and bob his head.

"Uh . . . t—thanks," Prompto said, sort of nodding and half-bowing at the same time. Sweet Six, that was dumb, but before he could make an even bigger idiot of himself, he jogged out the door to catch up with the rest of the group.

They took their time returning to the camper, engaging anything they passed in battle so Noct could work out his frustrations—except for the coeurl, which Iggy recommended they steer far, far away from. By the time they caught sight of the outpost, it was late afternoon, and Iggy was itching to get dinner started.

"After all, it takes quite a while to cook the beans down," he said.

"Does that mean we're gonna have the burly bean bowl? Whoo!" Prompto cheered, pumping a fist in the air. The spicy stuff he made was the best.

"Ugh, why's it gotta be _beans_?" Noct complained. "You know I hate beans."

Iggy looked over at Noct, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It looked like Prompto wasn't the only one faking cheer for everyone else's sake today. "Apologies, Highness, but I cannot cater to your every whim. We have a convalescing comrade to nourish as well."

He hopped lightly up the stairs and carefully opened the door, but on taking a single step inside, he froze. "Apologies, I tried not to wake you."

"No, s'alright. I was awake anyway."

As soon as Iggy started working in the kitchen and Noct collapsed onto one of the free bunks, Laura got up from her bed and headed past Prompto out the open front door, nodding silently to both of them. She paused for a moment at the outside table, and, seeing Gladio sitting there playing on his phone, she kept walking, her feet dragging in the dirt with each stride and kicking up clouds of dust and gravel. Iggy had paused in his work to watch her go, holding the pot of beans and water over the glowing red burner and staring out the window with a deep frown.

"I'm just gonna go check on her," Prompto said as he jumped up from his seat. He leapt past the stairs, stumbling a little when he landed weird on his left foot, then jogged to catch up with her. It didn't take long—she was moving so slowly.

"Hey!" he said with a smile and a little shove at her arm. "Where ya goin'?"

When she didn't acknowledge him but kept trudging past the building with all the huge complicated transceivers and toward the massive lookout tower, he began to get a little nervous. Was she mad at him for how he'd reacted yesterday?

"Thought I'd climb up there and check out the sunset," she finally mumbled, pointing up to the tower platform.

"Can I come with?" he asked, but then he realized—maybe she wanted to be alone, and here he was forcing his company on her. He winced and rubbed at the back of his neck, waiting on her answer.

They both turned sideways to sidle between two rusted-out, abandoned cars, and when she'd cleared them, she smiled gently at him.

"Not at all," she said. "I'd love your company."

"Really? You mean it?" he asked. The guys always _seemed_ okay having him around, but no one had ever straight-up told him they'd actually enjoyed him there.

"Course—else I wouldn't have said it," she replied, her smile growing to a grin, but like Iggy, it didn't reach her eyes.

"Hey—you feelin' any better?"

Her smile fell, and she let out a long sigh. "Yeah. Probably need to sleep some more, eat something a bit more nutritious than chips."

"Think Iggy's got ya covered tonight!"

"Hmm."

When they'd made it to the top of the tower, she plopped down on the floor, scooting so her legs dangled beneath the railing and over the side. As Prompto made to sit down next to her, she threaded her arms through the second railing and rested her chin on it. Together, they silently looked over the desert to the darkening sky.

"You don't have to avoid us, you know," he said, leaning to bump her shoulder with his.

Her eyes fell closed. "I thought you guys could use some space—especially Gladio."

"Ha ha, yeah," he chuckled awkwardly and looked down to pick at his fingernails. Gladio'd been saying some of the worst stuff in the tent last night, but they'd all said some things Prompto wasn't proud of. He didn't think she'd overheard them, but what if she had? "Really though, I dunno why he's so mad at you. He's normally a pretty accepting guy."

The light was starting to turn the sky all kinds of colors: molten gold, dusky orange, and sylleblossom purple as the sun sank below the horizon, so he summoned his camera to try and catch some of the colors to keep with him forever. After a few shots, he changed the shot to include her face in the sunset, so maybe he could keep this moment of friendship with him forever too. It would serve as a reminder. He was gonna be a better friend from here on out—to all of them.

"Because it's too much," she finally said, opening her eyes to look at him. "The world is ripped away; there's nothing and no one to fall back on, and I'm an unknown variable. He can't protect Noctis from me should he need to, and he knows it. And then there's his father—I could have saved them, it's true, but then you all would have died in Longwythe."

"He should come around soon, maybe? Cor totally backed you up at the tomb." He winced and looked away, hoping she wouldn't notice what he'd said, but he felt a hand settle on his elbow.

"It's all right. I already knew. Woke up to find your minds too far away for me to locate, but the Regalia was still here. I just had to trust that Ignis could keep you all reined in for the afternoon."

It didn't really matter that she'd known already. He'd still messed up. He was always messing up. No matter how hard he tried, he could never be as good at anything as Gladio or Iggy, so how was he gonna help Noct collect all those weapons and get the Crystal from the Empire? And then what? It wasn't gonna resurrect all those people that'd been killed—by _his_ people. Six, if anyone was the traitor among them, it was him, not her, and if they ever found out? Well, now he had firsthand knowledge what they'd do to him. Gladio would take a sword to his throat.

He hadn't noticed that his breathing had picked up until she did. Laura made a soft sympathetic sound in the back of her throat, which only made it harder to hold his shuddering breath steady. She scooted closer and wrapped her arm was around his shoulder, and he leaned into the contact, desperate for any kind of reassurance that there would at least be someone who still cared if everything got out.

"Hey," she said softly into the top of his head. "Are you all right?"

"Not really," he chuckled. He wasn't gonna tell her the real reason he was upset, but he did have some things on his mind. "I feel like crap that I miss home more than anything when other people have lost so much more. But it's like, we're not kids anymore; there's no safety net, cause home's gone. I just wish I could be brave like you."

 _I wish I could tell you all who I really was, and you all would be okay with it._

He felt her body expand and slowly deflate as she sighed and squeezed him tighter into her side. "You know, it's easy to be brave with all this experience at my fingertips. I've been doing this for longer than some civilizations have existed."

"Still—wish I could have some of that."

"But you do. You're sitting here beside me with none of that to back you up—that's true courage. Just a regular guy leaving home for the first time to face the wild with nothing but his guns and his friends? I find you incredibly brave, Prompto."

"You really believe that?" A goddess thought _he_ , Prompto Argentum, was brave?

Her response was halfway between a laugh and a hum. "Like I told you before, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe it."

She gave him one final squeeze before she kissed the top of his head and let him go. "Come on," she said with a bright smile—this time it made even her tired eyes sparkle. "Now that the sun's gone down, we don't want to make everyone worry."

"Heh, right," he said, jumping to his feet. He reached down for her hand to pull her up. "Thanks for listening, Laura."

"I'll always be here if you need it."


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:**

Warning: Panic attack

* * *

Relations were still delicate between the five of them when they set out for Keycatrich the next day, though Laura hardly expected them to be otherwise given all they'd gone through and how much she'd concealed from them. Gladio's anger would come in waves—his mind would flit from thought to thought until jagged scarlet would suddenly wash over her, making her wonder whether he wouldn't abruptly turn on her mid-stride to take her head off as he'd fully intended to the night of the Fall. Noctis was doing his best to ignore her existence, but mourning for his father and his plight constantly leaked from him like blood from a fresh wound. While it seemed as though Prompto had forgiven her for her role in the destruction of his home and the probable death of his parents, he still handled her with a hesitancy he hadn't displayed before, as though he were afraid to be too friendly with her in front of the others.

And Ignis—it was always difficult to tell with that man. The duality that existed between what was going on in that head of his and what he actually expressed was impossible to decipher with such a shallow reading on him.

But she would never argue that she deserved any less from them. It was a miracle this tenuous forgiveness existed at all—perhaps a testament to the goodness in their hearts that Regis had spoken of. All things considered, she was fortunate her confession hadn't gone as badly as some of those she'd given in the past. What they'd done to her on the _Galactica_ when she'd been forced to make similar revelations about her heritage still sent a shudder through her when she allowed herself to recall it.

"Where exactly is this entrance s'posed to be, anyway?" Noctis whinged, slapping at one of the spindly bushes growing between the barred windows of a half-shattered brick wall.

Gladio reached out to poke the back of his head. "You're the one with the map."

He stopped and summoned the folded paper to peer at it. "Think we've gone too far."

"Yes, we passed where it should have been about ten minutes ago," Ignis said serenely, but as with nearly everything he expressed, his tone belied that fire burning in his eyes and mind. He was nearly bursting with interest in something.

"What is it?" she whispered, but his expression only brightened as he shook his head.

"Then why didn't you say anything?!"

"Yeah! I'm dying of a heat stroke over here!" Prompto complained.

"Good thing there's a tomb nearby to put you in," Gladio said.

"It wasn't far to the end of the ravine. I was under the impression you wished to take a moment to explore," Ignis replied innocently, pointing to the ramparts that had likely once formed the Wall that protected the city from the sea side yet still allowed a small portion to be exposed for trading. "This should be the perfect location from which to view a very rare relic—an artifact dating back to the Astral War that was sadly damaged in the battle with the Empire. Judging by the architecture, this must have been near the seat of their local government."

"How the hell do you know all this?" Gladio asked.

"Hey, guys. Is that the statue of the Founder King?" Prompto asked. He was turned in the opposite direction of the rest of them, pointing to the tall, ornately-armored man standing on a plated plinth, his sword grasped in his hands and the tip resting on the stone in front of him. "Got one of those back in Insomnia, don't we?"

Ignis's eyes flicked briefly to the statue, somehow still standing proudly in the middle of the wreckage of what had once clearly been the largest city in Leide. "Nearly identical. They must have been created at the same time. But that isn't what interests me. Have a look."

He nodded to a spot high above the ramparts, to the top of the towering cliffs that had loomed over them most of the morning as they'd hiked up here, where the ghastly bronze figure of a hooded man lay broken and corroded, a single hand reaching out as though begging for help, or perhaps warding off a blow.

"That's . . . really creepy," Noctis muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on the statue.

Laura couldn't blame him. There was something unsettling about the man's demonic face—the teeth filed to sharp points, visible through the mouth wide open in a scream; the sunken eye sockets; the almost bird-like hooked nose. His stony eyes had been cast at sharp angles facing downward, as though he were enduring some great suffering. The statue's appearance alone was enough to put a chill in the bones, but she wondered how the four of them would react if they could feel exactly what she felt. She was almost grateful that this creature had been turned to stone, because it no doubt would have come to life to kill them all, with the way circumstances often turned out for her.

Despite the eeriness of their discovery, that rush of excitement at the possibility of the _new_ flooded over her, making her hearts beat a little faster in her chest. Exploring ruins would always be like opening a time capsule, even if she could always go back and see it living and vibrant once again. They were glimpses into an age gone by—little pieces of a life that had once meant something to someone left behind to be ravaged by the slow but vicious assault of time.

She looked over at the other four in the hopes of sharing this bubbling effervescence with one of them—any of them—but only Ignis tore his eyes away from the sight, his eyes alight with that same life.

"Uh . . . that thing's been above us this whole time?" Prompto said nervously. "How'd we miss that?"

"Holding your gaze fast to the ground only makes you more likely to miss what is around you," Ignis pointed out with another significant glance in her direction, but then conceded, "Though our view of him _has_ been blocked by the cliff face and the ruins for most of our journey."

"What makes you so interested?" Gladio asked—Ignis specifically. She noted he was careful not to let his eyes fall on her as he spoke. "It's impressive, but it's just a statue."

"It is a piece of history that reaches deeper into the senses than words in a book—it can be seen and touched. It stirs the imagination, does it not?"

"Tell me more about this Astral War," Laura said.

Noctis rolled his eyes. "Ugh, here we go again. Can we start walking while you do your nerd thing, Specs?"

Ignis's lips barely twitched into a frown, but Laura could still feel his disappointment in Noctis's lack of interest. "Of course. The entrance to the tomb is just beneath the statue—a trench that leads into the cliff."

"Great. Let's go."

Laura and Ignis fell back as they picked their way over the uneven rocks, stealing glances at the scene above them. "Original written record of that time is nonexistent, so much of what I know is recorded from stories passed down through the generations," he warned in a low voice. "There isn't much to tell, and someone of your experience will likely find it trite."

She wasn't sure where he'd gotten such a negative opinion of her, but she shook her head before he'd even finished speaking in an attempt to make her position clear. "Not at all. Besides, even in legends, there's a grain of truth."

Ignis's attention drifted back up to the statue still silently calling out for help above them. "Mankind were still primitive savages when Ifrit, one of our six gods, gifted them with fire—to the very first recorded ancestor in my family, according to my mother." He glanced down at the ground and smiled a little, rolling his eyes doubtfully. "From his generosity, they used that spark of knowledge to build a mighty civilization over the course of thousands of years, far more advanced than what you see today."

"Like Atlantis."

He frowned, and she could tell he was working up some way to admit he didn't know what she was referring to.

"Sorry. Never mind that now. I'll tell you about it later. You were saying?"

"They worshipped all of the Six, but none more than Ifrit, who was said to love them as dearly as children."

But she knew where this was headed—she'd asked him about the Astral War, after all. "What did they do?"

He shook his head. "History doesn't say. Only that Ifrit turned on mankind. When he attempted to wipe them from the face of Eos, the others intervened to protect the balance of the planet. Soon, the Six and their twenty-four Messengers engaged in furious battle. Mankind nearly went extinct in the crossfire, and the civilization utterly devastated."

"I'd wondered about that. This world's population is sparse compared to others of its size and technological advancement. All this wide-open space, dotted only with primitive, beleaguered settlements."

"I fear the disappearing disease has had a greater effect on the people beyond the Wall than previously discussed in the capital. Texts led me to believe that we were once far greater in number."

"So they recovered from the war and declined again?"

Ignis pursed his lips and tilted his head in thought. "In a manner of speaking. The human race lived on, but the ancient civilization fell to ruin, along with its technology and most of its architecture. That statue and a few sites around the globe are all that's left of its existence. Lucian archaeologists have recently discovered more, but I confess I haven't had the time to read the article recently published."

Laura had followed behind Gladio and Prompto into the rocky trench that led to the dark, gaping passage in the cliff wall, and as a deep sense of foreboding tickled across her instinct, she noticed that Ignis was no longer by her side. She turned to find him frozen just inside the entrance to the trench staring up at the statue, his mind still, but she could taste the faintest tinge of fear emanating from the color of it.

"Ignis?" she whispered, hoping not to attract the others' attention. "What is it?"

"I read about this place so many times as a lad in my studies. Something about the story always drew me to it," he murmured almost to himself, "but there were never any photographs. This place has stirred something in me since we arrived yesterday, yet no sight has hit me quite like this particular view."

He'd been saying queer things like this since they'd left the city, and each time that odd expression would cross his face, she would wonder about that instinct of his—whether it rivaled her own. He did seem to be more magically gifted than was typical for a human on this planet, which often went hand in hand with the ability to perceive beyond the physical. Though they needed to catch up with the others before they noticed how far behind they were, she had to test her hypothesis.

"Can you feel anything from that statue?"

He looked down at her and frowned. "Nothing in particular. Another perturbance of instinct, familiarity, much like your presence."

"Perhaps you can sense the future and saw this moment," she suggested.

"Perhaps," he said in a distracted tone. But he seemed to come to himself and suddenly took several hurried steps forward to catch up with the others. "Why? What do you feel?"

She pursed her lips, unsure of how to explain it. "Shadows of life and power."

"Do you mean to say that it's alive?"

"I don't think so. Not anymore."

"Then—"

Prompto's shrill exclamation cut him off. "We're not seriously going in _there_ , are we?" He pointed to the brick-lined archway set into the stone. "What even is this place?"

"Yep," Noct said.

They passed beneath the arch, immediately plunged into a darkness even her eyes couldn't pierce. As the other four turned on their travel lights to reveal rough-hewn, sand-colored stone that formed a sort of antechamber connected to a narrow passage, the varying levels of discomfort from all four of them distracted her for a moment.

Not surprisingly, Ignis's unease was second only to Prompto's, but his voice was calm and steady as he inspected the anteroom they'd found themselves in. "It appears to have been a shelter."

"People lived here?" Prompto asked.

"Those seeking refuge from war, most like."

"Wars," he scoffed, "what're they good for?"

Laura couldn't help but smile in amusement. She doubted the song existed on this planet in any form, but she still added, "Absolutely nothing."

"Huh . . . wonder if anyone's still living here."

Laura's and Ignis's eyes met as they stepped into the narrow passage together, but as they took another step into the dark, her time sense slammed against the back of her eyes like a freight train.

A fixed point, an unavoidable occurrence in the very near future, had just announced itself with all the subtlety of a freight train.

* * *

Laura sucked in a sharp breath as the spectral Axe of the Conqueror sliced through Noctis's chest, and her hearts broke a little to see his eyes dim as that small piece of him died to make room for the power he'd just received. This entire procedure was sickening to watch happen to a child so young, but then she had to remember that she'd been a year younger than he the first time she'd been hollowed out. Perhaps there was something about the pliancy of youth that made this process easier to bear—or perhaps the older were wise enough to fully understand the cost.

But as she watched that pained expression take over his face and his hand reach up to grasp at his chest, she wondered if he truly did understand what was happening to him. His eyes held the suffering of a boy who knew he had just taken one step closer to the threshold that separated man from something more akin to a god—one step closer to the veil that would eventually close around him.

Ignis had told her in Galdin that he'd known where this was headed, but did Noctis? Did the others?

"Let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps," Prompto said with a shiver.

"Best idea I've heard all day," Ignis agreed as he followed Noctis back into the dimly-lit shaft, and Gladio let out a "Yeah."

Intent on not drawing too much attention to herself and souring the mood, Laura nodded, though the boys were likely unable to see her in the dark tomb without a travel light on her. The motion made her head spin as though someone had shaken it like a snowglobe—stirring up her heightened sense of the timelines as they coalesced into a seething, writhing mass in her skull.

"I wonder how those moths made it all the way down here," Ignis mused from just ahead of her. He pointed toward the cone of flickering amber light up ahead, where a fluttering cloud of yellow moths hovered close, soaking up the illumination. "And what their food source is. I've seen several hovering around the lights down here."

"You're welcome! Generator that old wasn't easy to fix, ya know," Prompto said proudly. "Just wish they'd strung the bulbs all the way to the tomb."

An ecosystem thriving this far underground was only one of the things about this underground shelter that made Laura uneasy. There was something _wrong_ with this place. She gritted her teeth in frustration and sighed, exacerbating the pounding headache that had resided behind her eyes since their trip to Insomnia.

Ignis stepped to the side and turned to face her. "Are you all right?"

Laura looked up at him, searching his face for the matching emotion she felt roaring in his mind. He despised being here in the dark, she could tell, but the only hint of that emotion was buried deep in those viridian eyes of his. The number of times she'd seen him perfectly composed, even cocky, while the color of his mind nearly blinded her with some sort of conflicting emotion was staggering. That sort of contradiction was common among liars and spies, but Ignis's particular brand of it seemed to stem from somewhere deeper, somewhere darker, somewhere she had a feeling that if she delved too deep into would break her hearts. What would a man have to endure in order to have developed such an expertise in hiding his true feelings at such a young age? Given all she'd learned about him thus far, she had her suspicions, but she hoped she was wrong.

"Maybe, I don't know," she hedged, not wanting to lie to him. But now wasn't exactly the best time to inform him that the timelines she could see in her head were doing "weird, non-specific, indecipherable things."

"I can feel eyes on us," Prompto murmured melodramatically. "The second we turn our backs, BAM!"

"Wuss," Gladio muttered.

Laura frowned a little as Ignis held a hand out, indicating that she walk in front of him. She brushed away that slight prick of irritation (honestly, did he think women were incapable of walking in the dark?) but complied without making a fuss. Taking care of others was obviously deeply ingrained into the core of his personality—and it was terribly sweet of him, really—she just wished he'd make an exception with her.

"There _is_ something ominous about the atmosphere of this place," Ignis noted mildly.

Ominous was a good word for it. Things were about to get as bad as things could possibly be with another added suitcase full of bad—she could feel it writhing in her head like a serpent. And as usual, she couldn't say a thing to anyone until it happened—at the very least until she knew more about what had caused her time sense to rear up and swallow her whole. She hated holding things back from these boys in particular, as she still remembered all too well being young and naïve, following behind her mad Doctor and trying her best to read the secret significance of his words as he blathered on about nothing of substance. But with age and experience came wisdom, and she found herself sympathizing for the ride these boys were in for with her as she adopted the very same practices.

If it could be at all helped, she'd rather not have to reveal her time sense to them. It was difficult enough for her to understand herself with no training, and it might completely shatter their fragile trust in her if, in addition to being able to "read minds," she also had to confess that she could sort of, sometimes, in the murkiest way, also see the entire nexus of causality.

They had ascended about halfway through the meandering passageways and half-collapsed tunnels and were about to enter one of a series of larger rooms when a hissing whisper floated on the thick, stale air from just ahead.

"Wait," she whispered, reaching out to stop Noctis from stepping into the room. "Do you hear that?"

They wouldn't be able to, and she knew that, but she needed them all to be still so she could identify just what they were dealing with. Whatever it was, it _wasn't_ the typical pools of darkness she associated with daemons before they appeared. This was something else, something non-native.

"Did you hear something?" Prompto shrieked.

"Quiet," Gladio growled.

A sharp pain lanced through Laura's temple, and the knot that was the timeline ahead of them lodged in her throat. Her hands shot to her head in an attempt to keep herself grounded, but her knees grew weak as the room began to spin.

"Laura," Ignis whispered, placing a hand at her elbow as though to catch her.

Why was he always present for her weakest moments? It only cemented that helpless image of her he'd somehow conjured their first day out of the city.

"Fuck," she ground out around the drum circle being performed on top of her temporal lobe. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

She'd identified the problem the second the writhing mass turned jagged in her head; this was so much worse than any daemon they could have found down here. She hadn't encountered one of these creatures for about four thousand years now, where a paradox had come within a hair's breadth of destroying that entire universe, but their rarity clearly made them no less deadly.

Didn't this world have enough to deal with without interdimensional predators threatening to rip the seams of the universe apart? There couldn't have been a more vulnerable time for this to happen, which she supposed was kind of the point, as the creatures were drawn to grief. Actually, given that thought, she should have expected this, with the way her luck tended to run.

They would have been in less danger if she'd been given more time to explain, but there was nothing for it. Their experience in battle with her meant that they all trusted her instincts enough to ready their weapons and look to her for guidance, and her hope swelled that perhaps they all could learn to trust her again.

But here in this moment, their gesture didn't matter. Their weapons would be no good here.

"Put those away. No questions, no time," she said in a low, clipped voice. "We need to run. If it appears, keep running. Don't try to fight it. If you get hit, know the effects are temporary, but above all, you _must_ prevent a paradox, no matter how much you might want to change things."

"What's a—" Prompto began, but the whispering had grown so much closer in just the time it took for Laura to say those words.

"Run!" she whispered fiercely, grabbing Noctis's hand and dashing toward the surface. The potential damage to the timelines would be so much worse it ended up hitting him, so she did her best to angle her body between the sinister whisper she could barely register over their pounding strides and the young prince. She hoped with everything she was that it would hit her instead of any of them. Not being native to this universe, she was in a unique position in that she doubted it would have an effect on her—probably. Well . . . maybe. If it could at all be helped, she'd rather let it get its one shot off and disappear without it hitting anyone at all, but that fixed point still clawing its way up her throat with the potential for a world-ending paradox suggested that this was all going to happen a certain way no matter what she did.

They hurtled up the roughly-hewn stone inclines, passing through primitive doorways and corridors, evading dusky purple clouds of daemons emerging from the ground, and nearly making wrong turns three times as Noctis mistook the route, but Laura continued to yank him along the correct path. And all the while, just below the sound of their labored breathing and frantic steps, that sinister whisper grew ever closer.

"Shouldn't we almost be there?" Gladio called out from behind Prompto.

"Nearly!" she heard Ignis reply from farther back.

But as soon as the word had passed his lips, all the ambient light was sucked from the tunnel as the creature rippled into view, and the faint whispers grew to a gasping chorus that combined with the roaring timelines, nearly deafening her. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, with shredded grey skin that sagged off skeletal limbs. Its mouth was open in a grotesque silent scream, but instead of an orifice, moist enflamed flesh glistened in the group's travel lights. Sickly green irises stared sightlessly through them, its lack of pupils suggesting a lack of sentience.

And _stars_ , the _smell_ of it—sickly sweet fetid meat that seemed to wrap itself around a person's throat and choke off the lungs.

Yet for all its horrifying appearance, the creature was only the size of a garden gnome. Its size belied the doom it could bring on them all, but it was also some small mercy. Should it hit one of them, the effects would only last a couple of days at most, maybe less. But could Laura trust any of them with what they would have to do over the next two days, especially after all they'd just been through? It didn't seem like Time would give her a choice, and as the pieces of the last couple of weeks fell into place, she had a hunch how this would end.

The creature sucked in a great, wheezing breath, preparing to attack.

"Duck!" she cried, already pushing Noctis to the ground and falling on top of him. She felt her hair flutter as the pus-colored ball of energy passed dangerously close to their backs, then an explosion of air as it hit its mark. The creature, having fulfilled its purpose with its one and only shot, disappeared from in front of them with a cracking sound like breaking wood.

"Laura," Noctis said after silence had taken over the cavern again, "you can get up now. It's gone. We're okay."

She wanted to tell him that they were most certainly not okay, but she was drowning in a cyclone of frothing timelines that were forcing themselves down her nose and throat, choking off her air. They and their entire world could disappear into nonexistence any second, so no. It _wasn't_ okay. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what would happen to her if this universe suddenly ceased to exist. Would she simply be shunted off to the nearest parallel, or would she fade into nonexistence along with them?

It really didn't matter what the universe tried to do; she'd stay with these versions of them until whatever end. She had made a promise. Groaning and holding her head in both hands, she slowly sat up.

"H-hey, you okay?" Prompto asked tremulously. That was two checking in.

"No." She gripped her head more tightly to keep the mineshaft from spinning. "Who got hit? You guys all right back there?"

"Yeah, all good here. Iggy?" Gladio said, grunting as he got to his feet.

But Gladio's reply answered her question; his voice had eliminated all other options. Of _course_ it would be Ignis—the one with the most potential for this experience, should they live through it, to be emotionally scarring for all parties involved. Still, all things considered, it could be worse. Of the four of them, Ignis was the one she trusted most to return to the Citadel and act responsibly.

"Ignis, gods damn it, answer me!"

She opened her mouth to protest Gladio's demand, but the timelines gave another almighty lurch. Blackness threatened to overtake her as her vision diminished to a pinprick. Wherever Ignis was, he'd just done something dangerous—already.

 _No!_ They would all die right here in this tunnel if she couldn't keep a hold on consciousness.

She bit hard into her lip and breathed, hoping the pain would be enough to keep her awake. When she was finally able to open her eyes again, it was to find Prompto breaking a potion over the head of a terrified child sprawled on his back in a muddy patch near the passageway's wall, his trousers and white linen dress shirt smeared with black muck, his black-framed glasses sitting askew on his nose, and his overly-large viridian eyes darting wildly around at the situation he'd found himself in.

"Ohmygods, ohmygods, ohmygods—it's gonna be okay, Iggy. You're gonna be fine!" Prompto muttered, his voice breathless with panic. His trembling hands fluttered just above the child's chest before he sat back on his knees and looked to Laura for help. "Shit. It's not working!"

"We sure this even _is_ Iggy?" Gladio asked from behind him.

As the boy sat up and straightened his glasses, Laura could finally access her telepathy enough to feel his mind shifting frantically, assessing his surroundings.

"Of course it's not working," she sighed and hoisted herself to her feet, steadying herself against the wall for a moment before picking her way over the loose rocks. "There's technically nothing wrong with him."

"What do you mean, ' _nothing wrong with him'_?" Gladio demanded. "What'd that thing _do_?!"

"All of you, hush for a moment." Laura slowly crouched down in front of the boy that was now subtly shrinking into the stone behind him. "Ignis? Hello!" she said in a bright voice, wiggling her fingers at him.

Far from succumbing to her charms, the boy looked up at her, his eyes narrowing in suspicion and the prickling of his mind increasing. She should have known that even at the age of . . . eight? . . . ten? . . . a boy as intelligent as Ignis wasn't going to fall for that.

She modulated the false cheer a little. "You were . . . sort of brought here by a wild bit of magic. We've taken care of the problem, but we're still in a dangerous place. Would you mind coming with us so we can get to safer ground?" She held out a hand to him and smiled warmly, hoping that her demeanor, at least, would earn enough of his trust to get them out of there.

He tilted his head, and she had to fight the urge to burst out laughing as those shrewd eyes assessed her carefully as they had so many times as an adult.

"If you please, how do you know my name?" he asked in a soft, melodious tone.

This was going to be a difficult couple of days. He was just too inquisitive, too curious, too damned observant—which were normally things she loved about him, but traits like those were rather inconvenient at a time like this.

"Well, everyone knows the Royal Family," she said. "And you're always around the Citadel with the Prince. You're pretty easy to recognize."

He frowned, a deep wrinkle forming between his brows as his gaze dropped to his muddy palms. "That won't do. It is a servant's responsibility never to draw attention to oneself."

A thousand different denials leapt up in her throat, but they didn't have the time for this just now. "Please," she pleaded, hoping to connect with that chivalrous, logical side of him, "won't you come with me? We really are in danger the longer we stay in the dark like this."

The gentle urgency in her voice seemed to reach him. He glanced around at the circle of light the other three were providing, then at the pitch-black tunnel that led deeper into the shelter. He seemed to agree with her assessment, for he tentatively reached for her hand, but stopped halfway.

"I'm afraid my hands . . .."

"Don't worry about that," she said, grasping his fingers. "We'll get you cleaned up when we get to safer ground." She helped him to stand, and with Gladio, Noctis, and Prompto taking up a somewhat unsure formation around them, they shuffled toward the arched entrance.

She schooled her features to hide the wave of dizziness that washed over her and smiled down at him. "There are many dangers lurking about—daemons, imperial soldiers, and even wild animals. If anything should appear, I need you to stay by my side. Do you understand?"

Gladio spun to face them, frowning. "Uh uh, Iggy should stay with me. I can carry him to safety if something shows up."

Gladio—it might not have been obvious to everyone else, but unwilling to turn to anyone for support, he'd taken his losses the hardest since the Fall . . . his innocence _and_ his father. The military training ran too deep with him, and she was all too familiar with the sort of man who felt he needed to be strong for the others. Ignis himself was such a man, though the foundation of trust he and Laura had built—apparently since he was a child—had allowed some small leeway for that nearly impenetrable reticence of his.

Regardless of whether that shell could be broken, Gladio was more than the sum of his training, and this right here was the evidence. Each time she caught him sitting alone looking out at the landscape, reading a book, or protecting one of the boys, she caught a true glimpse of him. Despite still being somewhat limited by his aristocratic upbringing, he could be a thoughtful, gold-hearted _brother_ , and as soon as she had seen that, she'd made it her mission to preserve that hidden nugget of warmth in his heart through this war.

Of course, she'd already failed him once, but it wasn't as though their innocence could be preserved through this.

In this moment, however, she couldn't afford to be gentle; this needed to be handled. As much as she wanted to make the point that she could pick Ignis up and run with him much faster than he could, she refrained. It was probably for the best that he'd forgotten to take into account her inhumanity when it came to comparing their abilities, and now wasn't the time for posturing anyway. And if her suspicions about Ignis's past were correct, Gladio was the last person that needed to be around the boy.

She fixed him with a stony glare. "You know very well that your place is beside your . . . commander." He furrowed his brow down at her, perplexed by her phrasing, then at Ignis. "That hasn't changed."

She looked deep into his eyes, hoping the significance of her gaze would pass some sort of nonverbal message to him that this was beyond the break in their personal relationship—they were currently in grave danger, even if they didn't understand that yet. He must have understood, because he nodded reluctantly and took his place by Noctis's side.

As she passed by them with Ignis trailing just behind her, she murmured so that he couldn't hear, "I mean it, if you want to live through this, do not utter a single word."

The five of them stepped through the arch into the blinding sunlight, and believing that most of their troubles lay behind them, the other four, including little Ignis by her side, let out long sighs of relief. Laura, however, took careful stock of their surroundings, including the tactical defensibility of the location. Seeing that they were relatively sheltered by the high rock walls of the trench, she turned to Ignis.

"I'm sorry, Ignis, but I'm going to have to ask you to wait here for just a moment while I talk to the others about something important. We'll be right over there." She pointed farther down the trench, where a wall of half-decomposed sandbags lay stacked against the rock. "Nothing can come in without us noticing, and the daemons won't leave the cave with the sun still up. Just don't go near the arch, okay?"

His eyes were wide and glassy as he looked up at her and nodded, but his mind was flashing with silent fear.

"Hey," she said gently, bending over so she was at the level of his eyes. "Everything's going to be all right, sweetheart, okay?" She smiled sweetly, hoping to put him at ease.

The pulsing red eased somewhat, but he still didn't say a word as he continued to gaze up at her with that relentless mind of his prickling in thought. Sighing, she gently caressed his cheek with the back of her hand in reassurance, but he sucked in a quick breath through his nose and stiffened at her touch. Right—she'd forgotten he hadn't been the touchy-feely sort when she'd first met him.

She took a step out of his personal space. "M'sorry. We'll be right back." As she passed by Gladio, Prompto, and Noctis, she said, "Come with me." The three of them cast a nervous glance at Ignis before turning and following behind her.

When they had gathered around her several yards away, Noctis leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her. "You wanna tell us what's going on? Why haven't you fixed him yet?" His expression loosened, his mouth dropping open a little before he said more hesitantly, "He _can_ be fixed, right?"

With the fading of the adrenaline in her system, Laura's headache had returned in full force to pound at the backs of her eyeballs. "I'm sorry, I need to sit," she said as she eased herself onto the closest sandbag, but she realized she could no longer see Ignis around the bend in the rock wall. "Gladio, keep an eye on Ignis for me?"

He nodded, glancing in the boy's direction. "And anything else that's coming to get us. You wanna get to the point soon? We gotta get out of here. Is Iggy gonna be all right?"

She nodded. "Ignis is fine, for the moment, and believe it or not, is currently the least of our worries right now."

Prompto bounced on the tips of his toes, looking back and forth between Laura and Ignis farther down the trench. "But . . . how're we gonna fix him? What was that thing?"

"You've probably figured out that that creature wasn't a daemon. It's called a paradoxis, an interdimensional wraith that feeds on the destruction of entire universes. When that ball hit Ignis, it sent him back in time to Insomnia, I'm guessing to around the time he was eight to ten years old, and brought his younger self here. Luckily for us, it only has one shot before it disappears, otherwise we'd all be scattered in different points in time right now."

"What's the point of that? Why would switching us destroy the universe?" Noctis asked.

"It was likely drawn here after the Fall, at a vulnerable time when people of power would be more likely to want to change their past. You were probably its primary target. It hopes that the swapping of people in their own timelines will cause a paradox, which will tear apart the fabric of reality. Then it feeds off the energy from the destruction."

"Yeah, about that . . . what's a paradox? I tried to ask earlier," Prompto said.

"Say you go back in time and keep your parents from meeting, and you were never born." They all nodded their understanding, so she continued, "But if you no longer exist, who went back to keep your parents from meeting? That's the paradox. Adult Ignis could change his past, or we could say something to young Ignis that he could remember and bring back with him to change his past.

"Don't say anything to him that will reveal your identities. Try not to use names at all. If you must, agree on pseudonyms before doing so."

They stared at her in shocked silence for a moment but eventually nodded mutely.

"But what about Specs? How do we get Ignis back?" Noctis asked.

"We've had one stroke of luck on this, at least. That was a very small paradoxis. The effect should last a couple of days at most, and then their places will switch back on their own. To minimize timeline corruption, I suggest you leave him with me at the haven near the outpost. You guys can stay in the camper in case we need you."

Gladio said, "You all work this out, I'm gonna check on things," and headed back in Ignis's direction.

"Why does it have to be you?" Noctis asked suspiciously. "He didn't get to know Prompto really until he was like, seventeen. Prompto could stay with him."

Prompto flung a hand up in the air as though to volunteer. "Yeah, I could do that."

Laura shook her head. "It has to be me, because of all of you, Ignis knows me the least and has met me the latest in his life. And of all of you, I'll know what's safe to say and what isn't."

"Why's that?" Noctis challenged.

Laura took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Because I'm time sensitive."

A hundred thoughts—probably questions, accusations, and insults—flitted across the surface of that typically placid mind of his, but she cut them off before they could escape his lips.

"Look, we don't have time for me to sit here and explain the madhouse that is my brain right now, but suffice it to say, I have a running probability in my head at all times for everything that did happen, is happening, will be happening, has to happen, and must _never_ happen. On a cosmic scale though; I can't tell you what you're having for breakfast tomorrow unless your breakfast choice determines the fate of all mankind—which actually has happened, come to think of it. Anyway, it's not as liberating an ability as you would imagine, quite the opposite."

Though she had to admit to herself that in this world, for all her skills acquired over her too-long life, she'd never felt quite _this_ weak and helpless—almost like being human again. She wondered, not for the first time, if she would be able to help this group reach their full potential and save the world or if she was just an extra source of complications in an already bleak situation.

. . . It was his mind she noticed first. She'd spent so much time with him these past weeks that she felt as though she was tuned in to that restless prickling of undefined thought, even, it would seem, as a child. That constant fluttering against her mind went suddenly still as it only did when he was either in awe or extremely upset. A scrape of shoes taking hurried steps in the crunchy gravel met her ears as she whipped her head in Ignis's direction, and pushing past her vertigo, she hurled herself toward the source, not bothering to see if the other two had followed.

Gladio raised both his hands in the air as she approached. "I dunno what happened! He was freaking out about not being home in time for a meeting. I swear, I just reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, and this." He nodded down at the child pressed against the far wall, who was making a quiet, frantic attempt to disappear into the stone behind him.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. She'd been afraid of this, and she cursed herself for not saying something to Gladio before assigning him to watch over the boy.

"What the hell kinda kid has meetings at his age?"

Laura ignored him in favor of focusing on Ignis, who had his wild eyes locked on Gladio's feet as he struggled to pull in a ragged breath. His face had grown chalky white, and with each breath he couldn't catch, he seemed to grow more panicked, his breaths coming in quick gasps.

"Ignis? It's all right," she said soothingly, taking slow, careful steps toward him. "Just breathe."

Those frightened eyes flicked to her briefly, his mind screaming for help, before he collapsed to the dirt.

By the light of all the stars, he didn't know what was happening to him. Disoriented by the rough trip here and experiencing what appeared to be his first panic attack, he probably thought he was dying.

"Eh . . . what's wrong with him?" Prompto asked. "Does he have asthma or something?"

Laura looked back to the three of them crowding behind her and held a hand up. She was careful to keep her voice gentle for Ignis's sake as she said, "Everyone, please back away."

Gladio hesitated a moment before stepping backwards with the others, his hands now wrapped around the back of his neck. "I swear—I didn't mean to scare him."

She turned back to Ignis, whose eyes were rolling in his head, his hands frantically clutching at his rising and falling chest as he struggled to breathe. He would surely pass out any second if she didn't calm him now. She approached slowly, her hands spread wide in a gesture of benignity.

"Ignis? It's just me, sweetheart. It's going to be all right," she murmured.

Ever so slowly, she knelt in the dust by his side and reached a hand out to his shoulder. His condition didn't change in the slightest, but even through his abject terror, the color of his mind shifted somewhat to recognize her as a friend seeking to help. With his nonverbal acquiescence, she carefully maneuvered him so that he was leaning back against her chest and ran her hands down his arms to entwine her fingers with his. Careful not to restrict his breathing, she brought their joined hands to his diaphragm.

"It's all right. I've got you," she whispered into his ear. "I promise you're going to be fine. I'm going to talk you through this, all right? Just listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on your breath. Try to match it with my hands."

She began to hum a soothing song from her childhood in London, a sweet, haunting melody from one of her favorite princess movies, as she rocked him gently back and forth in time with the slow, rhythmic pressure and release of their hands on his diaphragm.

"Hey, I know that song! Ig—" Noctis began, but Laura shot him a sharp look and tilted her head to silently tell him to shut _up_.

But so much of this was already falling into place—why Ignis had felt like he'd already known her when they first met, why the identical view of the statue he was blindly staring at right this second had inexplicably sent a shot of fear through him, why Noctis was familiar with a song that _no one_ on this planet should be familiar with. Clearly, Ignis would retain at least some memory of this experience, which meant the timelines had been contaminated since the day she'd arrived in this universe. She reached inward to check the time sense that was still screaming to make itself known, only to find a knotted mass of indecipherable tangles.

Well . . . they hadn't died yet, she supposed, so this had to have been a part of the fixed point.

After several minutes of humming and rocking as the others looked on in silence, Ignis's gasps had slowed to long, hitching breaths. Most human children would have begun sobbing hysterically at this point, usually sending them into another fit, but Ignis remained silent beyond his breathing and the strobing red fear in his mind.

"I know you're frightened, but look at our uniforms. Do you recognize them?"

He nodded against her shoulder. "C-C-Crownsguard."

"That's right, we're Crownsguard, which means we're here by order of the King. That means that you're now here by order of the King. Your meetings, your lists, your school—they can all wait, dearest. You're safe here with us. None of us will hurt you, and you have my word that nothing will harm you so long as I am near. Do you hear me, Ignis? I swear to protect you."

The little body in her arms gave a violent shudder and let out a whoosh of breath. "Yes, My L—" He stiffened in her arms again. "Your Gr—"

Her hearts broke a little for his distress. In a voice loud enough for the others to hear, she said, "No titles here. You may call me Rose, or Miss Rose, if that makes you feel more comfortable."

How long had it been since she had last gone by that name? Not since the day her dear James had died and she'd left Earth for good. It had once been the only name she'd ever known, and yet it felt foreign on her tongue as she'd given it to him.

 _Careful_ , warned the mind that had, up until Ignis had been transported, been slumbering around her neck. _These reckless schemes of yours always nearly kill you when you become personally entangled._

 _I think it's far too late for that already._

 _Foolish child. You never learn. You should not have used that name. It means more to you than your others._

 _There's nothing for it now._

Shaking her head free of grief-filled memories long past, she got an idea. Laura remembered Ignis's words about his relationship with the sky as a child, a habit he was only just beginning to outgrow, as they'd lain against that anak in the Weaverwilds. She infused her voice with a wondrous sense of awe and adventure and leaned in to whisper into his ear.

"Ignis, look up, sweetheart. You're free."

His head pressed deeper into her shoulder as he raised his eyes further to the sky above him, and his mind went still, the terror turning to wonder and freezing. She wished she could see his expression from this angle. What must it be like for him, after living beneath that ever-present translucent haze shifting over him his entire life, only to suddenly find nothing between himself and endless, clear cerulean?

"It's the sky," he whispered in amazement.

She chuckled. "Mmm hmm, and we'll get a better view of it as we walk to safety. But we really do need to get going now. Are you able to walk?"

As though suddenly realizing he was lying in her arms, he shot upright and tried to stagger to his feet. "Yes, of course," he said in a soft-spoken tone. "Forgive me."

"Hey, easy there." She stood to catch him as his knees wobbled, and as the other three shot forward to do the same, Ignis staggered back a step, throwing himself off balance. She caught his trembling shoulders and helped to steady him.

"Apologies." He shot her an uncertain look before bending to brush off his trousers and the back of his linen shirt. His flinch was nearly imperceptible as she pulled a towel out from the boys' armiger to give him, but he accepted the offering with a slight bow and quiet "thank you."

She waited until he'd finished futilely attempting to return his half-spiked hair to its original state, but he froze when she bent to look him in the eyes.

"I thought I might take this time to—I couldn't appear so disheveled alongside His Majesty's—please, I beg of you not to fall behind on my account."

"Take all the time you need, please. It'll be a long walk back. Are you certain you're all right?"

Ignis took a deep breath and nodded, his glazed green eyes still appearing too wide with fear as he looked down at the ground between them. "Yes, Miss Rose," he almost whispered. "If I can be of any sort of assistance . . .."

She couldn't help herself. Touch had always been a source of comfort to her—hugs, holding hands, pecks to the cheek—they had always been used to express friendship, connection, compassion. She reached out slowly to graze the tips of her fingers beneath his chin, gently entreating him to meet her eyes.

He didn't flinch as he looked up at her, and she gave him her kindest, gentlest smile. "All right then. Let's get going, shall we?"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Any explanation I have for that statue now or in the future is not canon.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:**

Warning: Reference to aftermath of child abuse.

* * *

"Ignis and I will follow behind," Laura instructed the other three. Though the journey through the time vortex with what minimal protection a paradoxis offered a human tended to glaze memories somewhat, she thought it best that the boys spend as little time with Ignis as possible—just to be on the safe side. "I recommend you three keep the path ahead of us clear, but stay close enough that I can jump in if needed."

"Got it," Noctis said with a firm nod.

"And when we get close, one of you needs to go on ahead and move the car."

"Ehh . . . huh?" Prompto asked, frowning in confusion. "Why do we need to move the R—"

"Right," Noctis cut him off with a wide-eyed glance down at Ignis. "I'll take care of it."

That—right there—was why they needed to stay away. Prompto might not have been aware that Ignis would be well-familiar with the name of the King's car, but a slip like that would reveal far too much about their identities before she had the chance to stop him.

They had taken less than ten steps beyond the protection of the trench when the muffled sound of a mobile beeping met their ears. They stopped in a wary huddle and waited for Noctis to pull his phone from his pocket. On checking the caller ID, he looked up at Laura hesitantly.

"I should probably take this."

She only raised her eyebrow in response—a silent warning to watch what he said.

"Yeah?" he said once he'd raised the phone to his ear.

With her sharp hearing, she could just barely recognize Cor's voice on the other end of the line. She was able to catch just enough to understand the gist of the conversation—he wanted them to take out a new imperial base going up nearby—and she groaned inwardly. Honestly, she understood that the Crownsguard had been devastated and what loyal Kingsglaive left scattered, but was there no one else to handle these chores? Their schedule was quickly filling up with enough life-threatening tasks to handle at the moment.

"Yeah, we can do it, but it's gonna take a few days. Something's come up," Noctis answered. He paused, and Cor's voice grew loud enough for her to hear clearly.

"There is nothing more important than handling this now. If this base is allowed to come to full operation, we could lose access to the western side of Lucis—and all of the tombs located there."

"We kinda don't have a choice. Listen, I can't talk about it right now, but we've got our own problems."

A softer murmur sounded from the phone, and Noctis's eyes met hers. "She agrees. This needs to be handled first."

Laura nodded.

He finished the call and cast a quick glance down at Ignis, who had silently regarded the entire conversation from his vantage point just to the left and behind Laura. He let his tense expression relax enough to give Ignis a soft smile. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, sir," Ignis replied.

They took up Laura's suggested formation, with Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto several yards ahead while Ignis and Laura took up the rear. In any other situation, the arrangement would have left Ignis and Laura vulnerable to attack from behind, but she was confident she could handle anything that tried to make a go at them out here, even in her present condition. She might not have mastered all the Crystal's powers enough to create a shield just yet, but if necessary, she could always resort to her own magic.

The faraway sound of voices from the other three carried on the hot Leiden breeze and floated back to them, but it was low enough that even she couldn't pick out the words. Were they discussing this latest assignment? She doubted it. Given that Ignis as an adult had always placed a seemingly impenetrable shield of aloofness between himself and the others, they were likely discussing the details of this most recent development of seeing Ignis at his most vulnerable.

Having allowed the other three enough of a lead to get started, she smiled down at Ignis and held out her hand.

"Shall we?"

He stared down at her fingers with a perplexed expression, as though this were some complex puzzle that needed solving, but he eventually slowly reached out to take it. As best she could now that she was a foot taller than him, she wrapped her arm around his and entwined their fingers.

"Fantastic! Let's go."

As she began leading him in the direction of the outpost, he looked up at her with a troubled expression. "It sounds as though my appearance has inconvenienced you."

"I don't want you to worry about that in the slightest. While you're here with us, consider yourself a welcomed guest, all right?"

"If it pleases you, Miss Rose," he added in a thin, small voice as he lengthened his stride to keep up, "you needn't keep a hold of me if you'd rather not. You have my word I will remain by your side."

She minutely tightened her fingers around his. "Is this all right? Does it bother you?"

He frowned, and a cloudy sort of confusion spread over his mental expression like fog. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I'm not holding you hostage, sweetheart. This is just what friends do."

The fog thickened, but a thread of muddy-green suspicion seemed to penetrate it for a moment. "Friend? You consider yourself . . . my friend?"

"Of course. And you can be mine, but only if you want to."

"What precisely does it entail?" he asked carefully.

It appeared as though some things didn't change through the years. Hadn't they already had this conversation? But he was so much younger this time. She simplified her response.

"It entails anything you wish. Friendship requires no obligation—only that we be kind to one another."

He broke eye contact with her to let his eyes wander over their wild surroundings, but though she held his hand loosely that he might more easily let go, he didn't. He also didn't respond, and after several seconds, she feared she might be asking too much of him. She was about to let go of his hand and tell him it would be all right if he chose not to be her friend when his grip tightened ever so slightly.

That fragile trust he'd placed in her with that one tiny movement slammed into her just as forcefully as it had the day he'd closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep against the back of an unknown wild animal. She only hoped she could live up to it this time.

They fell into an easy rhythm of walking—past the crumbling, bombed-out buildings and half-eroded brick walls of the former city of Keycatrich, interspersed with evidence of the cause of its destruction in the broken tanks and moldering Magitek engines slowly sinking into the sand over time. She wondered if he'd studied this place yet, if it would provide him clues to his whereabouts. Between visual and diminished telepathic sweeps of the area searching for potential danger hidden behind the ruins and among the crags in the cliff faces, she would glance down and notice that Ignis's sharp, evergreen eyes seemed to miss nothing. They lingered curiously on the ramparts, the machinery, and the ruins in particular, and even past her headache, she could feel the burn of a deluge of questions in his head.

But he kept silent.

To put him more at ease, she filled the silence with friendly chatter about some of the more benign bits of scenery that had nothing to do with the history of his kingdom: the little patches of dried grass dotting the sandy brown soil in a way that almost looked like a river, the striated patterns in the high rock walls shrinking into a narrower and narrower passageway as they left the ruins behind, or how the few trees in the area had adapted to the climate by growing long and spindly branches with dry green brush. With each discovery, that prickle of interest and questions would increase in pressure against her enflamed synapses, but not once did he open his mouth to put voice to them.

It was only when his hand had grown sweaty with the heat that he let it slip from her grasp, but he remained close to her side, his dress shoes seeming to float silently over the gravelly dirt as though he were a phantom that could disappear at any moment.

"You can speak freely, you know—anything you want," Laura said gently. "There's a lot I can't talk about, but I promise not to get upset at anything you say."

His eyes shot up to hers immediately, narrowing ever so slightly as he weighed the truth of her words. "The commander . . .," he began hesitantly, "is he the dark-haired man? Is that his true rank? Is he titled?"

This wasn't where she was expecting the conversation to begin. Having prepared to field a thousand variations of queries on where he was and what had happened to him, she found herself merely blurting out, "Does that matter?"

His eyes grew wide. "Of _course_ it matters. Royal protocol _must_ be adhered to—whether I know the courtier's title or not."

"But we've volunteered none of that, so how could you be expected to adhere to anything?"

His expression suddenly went calm and placid, his mind retreating in on itself somewhat, and she realized she'd said something wrong. He looked down at his feet and said in a soft voice, "Ignorance is no excuse for failure to comply. I make my best effort to know everyone and everything as a result."

Seething fury at his insinuation washed over her, though she kept the emotion from her face. The longer she spent in his presence at this age, the more she feared her assumptions to be true, but this was too much. Whoever had forced him to feel the need to hide his true emotions behind a wall had also played mind games with titles, had they?

But he was still walking beside her, his head hung low—silently, patiently waiting for an answer. She let her anger go and attempted to infuse her voice with calm.

"He is the commander, yes, though that isn't his true rank. I am sorry, sweetheart, but the less you know about them the better. They'll be leaving tonight anyway, but you have my word they won't mind if you call them whatever you wish."

"You're a member of House Caelum, aren't you?" he said in a trembling rush, still not raising his head. "You and the commander. I wasn't aware there were any branches of the family left beyond the ruling lineage."

"Interesting observation," she said in an attempt to give her time to come up with an answer that wasn't technically a lie. "What made you reach that conclusion?"

"High ranking in the Crownsguard—you must be higher than he, as they all seem to defer to you—and your coloring."

Laura had heard nearly nonstop since she'd arrived of her resemblance to the royal line. With the exception of Regis's green eyes, many of House Caelum possessed the same hair, eye, and skin color as she, and it was more than inconvenient for keeping under the radar. This predicament had disappeared since leaving the Crown City, where hardly anyone recognized or cared about the monarchy, but she'd forgotten how identifiable this would make the two of them to a young, far too observant Ignis.

She chose to focus on herself in the hopes he would forget about Noctis. "It's true that they defer to me, but I'm not as highly ranked as you might think. Their deference is to my experience alone. And as far as my lineage—people tell me that all the time. It's not true."

"I see. Please forgive my impertinence."

"Nonsense," she replied lightly. "I promised I wouldn't hold anything you ask against you, and I meant it."

His tone held a measure of surprise as he said, "I appreciate your courtesy."

She took advantage of the quiet moment to turn in a circle, casting her gaze and mind out for any creatures that might be following. As always, it was a frustrating endeavor, as her sensitivity seemed to be stifled by something in this planet's atmosphere. But just up ahead of the boys—was that a scattering of light that could indicate life? It was difficult to tell from this distance.

"May I ask how you know about my lists?"

Laura looked down at his soft and too-innocent tone, pausing to think her answer over carefully. He'd emerged from his last query with her unscathed, and now that he was feeling more confident, the games would begin. But deliberately waiting until she was distracted to ask so her answer would be more candid? Child's play. She'd never been particularly talented at these games as a child, but he couldn't know that her species had made a lifestyle out of twisting words to speak with hidden meaning and playing games to extract information. As much as she hated the practice, she couldn't deny that the skill had come in handy since meeting him.

She beamed down at him. "I have a friend like you. He's very important, _very_ intelligent, and he makes a lot of lists too. I figured you were the same way."

 _By the light of all the stars, look at him glow,_ she thought happily. What she could only describe as a smirk-smile had kindled a matching glittering fire in his eyes in response to her words.

 _Of course the child is happy. You honor him,_ Eilendil said in a tone that, had he still had a body, would've likely been accompanied by a roll of his enormous silver eyes.

But it was more than that. Beneath the subservience and ever-present loneliness, she'd seen glimpses of that self-assured version of him as an adult. It was only too easy to coax it out of him—he secretly flourished under sincere praise but tended to brush it off outwardly, as if unused to receiving it and unsure of how to accept it. Even more difficult was persuading his quietly passionate side to reveal itself, typically only when they were alone and she'd managed to get him talking about himself. He would stumble for what seemed like forever over her questions until she would suddenly strike the correct one, and he would wax poetic about his desire to see the world or his newly-discovered interest in mixing poisons for their weapons, combining chemicals for dish soaps and laundry detergents, and creating new recipes for them to enjoy. And all while he spoke, that very same expression would light his face up.

Laura had missed him these past few days. He may have offered his forgiveness the night of the Fall and had been cordial with her since, but she longed for those nights by the campfire when he'd been truly open and uninhibited in a way that he hadn't since before Longwythe. They'd made some small progress that night on the haven, but god, there couldn't have been a less appropriate time as he grieved, and she'd been giving them all space since then.

And now, he wasn't even here anymore . . . sort of.

"Are you all right?" the boy by her side asked melodiously, eerily reminiscent of his adult counterpart.

Dumped back into the present, she remembered that she needed to check on the status of those possible telepathic contacts she'd felt before. Reaching out, their closer, brighter minds scurrying back and forth up ahead between remnants of the old ramparts were far easier to identify—a pack of sabertusks on the hunt.

Placing two fingers to her lips, she let out a shrill whistle—there was little point in attempting to skirt quietly around them in such close quarters—and Noctis and Prompto turned around as Gladio kept watch ahead. She pointed and held up ten fingers moments before Gladio summoned his greatsword to meet the first of the sabertusks headed toward them.

"You two stand back," he shouted. "We got this."

"This way," Laura said, placing a hand on Ignis's shoulder, retreating several paces, and backing him up against an outcropping in the side of the cliff. She could feel him growing afraid behind her, and though she wanted to turn and reassure him, she had to keep watch in case a sabertusk broke free of the fray and came for them. His sharp gasp was nearly obscured by the psithurism of her magic whooshing over their ears as she brought her falchions to her hands and crouched in front of him. She held them out at the ready. It still felt unnatural to be using them again after all these centuries, but when in Rome . . ..

At least the air was no longer shrieking every time she tried to access them anymore.

"Miss Rose?" Ignis whispered.

"It's all right. The boys can handle this, but I need to concentrate just in case. Don't worry. I'll protect you."

"Okay," he whispered even more softly, "though it isn't me I'm concerned about just now."

Tenderness for his thoughtfulness washed over her, but she brushed it aside in favor of concentrating on their current predicament.

She hoped with all her might that she wouldn't have to kill an animal right now. The last thing she needed was to experience death in her mind with her time sense still rolling like an angry surf in a storm and her head still pounding from her time spell in Insomnia. As it was, the pain of the animals' last moments tore at her ribs and chest even from this distance as Gladio, Noctis, and Prompto began thinning the pack, but she had no choice today. They were one man down, and she needed to stick close in case they couldn't handle things on their own again. Three against ten weren't the best of odds at their level of experience.

It was a delicate balance—allowing them room to fight so they could grow and yet knowing when to step in or stop holding back before they got themselves killed. Regis had been abundantly clear in his instructions that she not interfere with their development unless their lives were threatened, but he had to know how impossible a task that was, even for her. It already tore at her to sit back and allow them to injure themselves so grievously in their battles—especially Ignis, who needed to take potions _so_ often while protecting Noctis.

This potion system of theirs was ridiculously bizarre—everyday energy drinks bought from petrol stations and random vendors to be supplemented later by Noctis's healing power. The magic itself worked as hers did, though unlike her own magic, the wound had to be recently inflicted for it to work. She feared their safety net made them, especially Ignis, more reckless on the battlefield, which honed the already sharp edge between life and death where she needed to step in even finer.

Just—whatever happened, she couldn't fail them.

She watched with pride and regret in equal measure as the three men took the pack out, quipping and casually wielding their weapons as they protected and supported each other. They had come so far in such a short time, their practical experience increasing their skill exponentially. The little boy behind her who would grow up with the potential to be more skilled than all of them was currently missing from their party, but they persevered nevertheless.

Did they know how much potential there was in all of them, really? How much the loss of their homes had affected their dynamic already? Had they realized yet that all that protection and support and friendship was really love? They would find out soon enough, if they hadn't already.

She didn't dismiss her weapons until after Gladio had felled the final sabertusk, and only then did she turn around to check on Ignis. Though his back was pressed against the rock precisely where she had put him, he had leaned forward to reach out a hand as though he were checking on _her_. She scrutinized his wide-eyed expression, perplexed to see awe color his mind a brilliant gold that seemed far to potent given their situation. What was going through that head of his now?

"Are you all right?" she asked him gently.

He nodded, whispering, "Thank you."

"Oh, sweetheart," she said, bringing a hand up to fix the hair he hadn't quite managed to grow into the shape of his name just yet, "all I did was stand there. It's the boys who did all the work."

He turned toward the other three watching them from a distance and bowed his thanks before she reached for his hand. He took it with a tentative smile, and together, they passed through the corroded wire fence that provided minimal protection to the outpost beyond.

"I'm going ahead!" Noctis called back, pointing toward the settlement, and she nodded, slowing her pace to so that they wouldn't be too close by the time Noctis managed to make it to the Regalia and hide it.

Ignis squinted against the bright sun, his attention zeroed in on the weather-worn water towers of the outpost, then to the arcing ray of red electricity crackling high into the sky off to the west.

"That's . . . an imperial base, is it not?" he asked, his voice growing breathless with trepidation.

"Now you understand why we're keeping a low profile."

"Where are we?"

"Leide," she responded immediately with her prepared answer. He'd likely already surmised as much for himself, anyway. She simply had to trust that he wouldn't remember this part of his journey well, because the odds were slim there existed such a dry region with evidence of a city devastated by a war with the Empire, an imperial base nearby, and oh yeah . . . that statue made the area stand out just a bit.

"That encompasses a rather large area," he said, suspicion tightening his features, but he smoothed them over immediately before looking around with a practiced, casual air. Honestly, he believed himself just as inscrutable as an adult as well, but to anyone actually paying attention, he was surprisingly expressive and easy to read. The only difference between him and the other three was that he hadn't the tendency to put voice to his thoughts, but to her, he may as well have spoken aloud that he was making his best attempt to finagle information from her.

"I suppose the Ostium Gorge is far enough from the Insomnian checkpoint to truly be considered Leide," he replied loftily, and if she listened for it, she could hear the barest hint of the patronizing tone that was meant to provoke her into getting defensive and correct him. Again, she fought the urge to laugh. It was a small mercy, she supposed, that he lacked a pair of daggers to threaten her with should he grow more suspicious in the coming days, because he was far too similar to his grown-up counterpart for history not to repeat itself as it was now.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you more than I have—only those with clearance can know our location."

"Oh, my apologies, Miss Rose," he replied, his voice growing softer in disappointment at failing his mission.

"It's quite all right." She raised a hand in front of her eyes and looked up in the direction of the late afternoon sun. After such a severe anxiety attack, Ignis would be well prepared to sleep through the evening no matter what time he'd been pulled from his timeline. Would he have the energy, however, to remain awake until sundown? "We've nearly arrived, but we still need to set up camp before we can rest. Are you tired?"

"No, My L—Miss Rose," he lied.

"Mmm."

The other three had already begun their setting up camp routine by the time Ignis and Laura arrived, and with a significant glare to the adults, she allowed Ignis to do as he pleased. What he pleased, however, was to follow each of the three men around the site, asking questions and volunteering his help in a veiled attempt to work his own subtle brand of magic on them, clumsy though it still was at this age, and learn more about his situation. It was clear he made them all somewhat uncomfortable with the restrictions she'd placed on them all, but none more so than Noctis, who seemed to be almost afraid of the quiet child attempting to be visible enough to be of assistance but invisible enough that he wasn't in the way, as any good servant knew to be.

Heartsbreaking though it was to watch, perhaps this experience would be good for the both of them.

Still fighting the pounding headache and nausea from the churning timelines, Laura elected to set up Ignis's kitchen equipment. They may not have had the chef himself to help her make supper, but she thought, perhaps, a relaxing chore like cooking might soothe her mind.

Rather than invading Ignis's supplies, she opted instead to access her own pocket universe for ingredients. She was rarely surprised these days, after having traveled to a new world nearly every day for centuries, but when she learned that the Crystal allowed them access to dimensional technology so similar to what James had made her and she had later modified, she couldn't help but be amazed. She'd never had a name for where she stored her things besides the Pocket, but "armiger" seemed a limiting term for all hers could hold. Perhaps when Ignis returned, they could discuss in further detail the differences between their versions of such a rare and advanced technology.

She decided on ochazuke for dinner—a simple, comforting, nourishing green tea and rice dish that she'd discovered while visiting Japan about a hundred years ago. She boiled the rice, pressed and grilled the tofu, and set about preparing the vegetables, but all the while, she kept an eye and an ear out to the somewhat awkward interactions taking place across the haven.

"Hey. Why don't you sit down or somethin'?" Noctis asked with that same irritation in his tone as when Gladio would try to ruffle his hair.

Ignis placed his hands behind his back and took a step closer toward the recently-erected tent. "I beg your pardon, sir, but it would be improper for me to sit while there's work to be done."

"Yeah, sounds about right," Noctis chuckled. "And I betcha that prince you look after is always leaving work for you."

"It is my duty—the highest of honors that can be bestowed upon any subject of the Crown—to look after His Highness."

Laura watched carefully as Noctis's hands paused over the sleeping bag he'd just summoned, his stricken expression freezing on Ignis. She'd once heard Ignis describe his caring for Noctis as his royal duties per His Majesty's assignment, followed by Noctis's teasing jab that it had more likely been his hobby. The flippant remark had incensed her at the time, but as with this very situation, she held her tongue.

Though she did her best to help where she could, Laura still had trouble with the part of traveling that involved maintaining that careful distance, of withholding judgment on other times, other cultures. She could hardly flit from world to world, recreating social mores in the image she desired, but in situations like these, it was difficult to quell the desire to defend all four of them from any injustice that plagued them—none more so than Ignis.

Perhaps this was more effective than any lecture she shouldn't but so dearly wished to give Noctis—for him to watch with the eyes of an adult as those same words left the lips of a child.

Gladio let out a booming guffaw and slapped Noctis hard on the back. "Yeah, bet it's a high honor all right, takin' care of that sorry excuse!"

"Hey!" Noctis complained irritably, giving Gladio a little shove, which was followed by Gladio retaliating by locking Noctis's head beneath his arm.

Boys.

"Hey, um . . . guys?" Prompto said hesitantly, interrupting what was promising to be lengthy wrestling match, perhaps even morphing into a full-out spar.

Gladio looked up first, his hand still spread wide over Noctis's forehead as Noctis attempted to get at him with his shorter arms. After a few more swipes, Noctis turned his head as well. They both dropped their arms to stare at Ignis.

His chin was raised high in the air, his jaw and fists clenched tight, but his face had gone bloodless. "You would do well to remember, sir," he said in a cold, formal tone Laura knew all too well, though it was higher in pitch and trembling beneath the surface, "that you speak of your liege lord. Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum is to become the King of Light that will save you all."

"And you . . . really think he can do that?" Noctis asked softly, sincerely.

Ignis's icy gaze shifted in Noctis's direction. "Without the slightest doubt."

"And you're gonna help him do it, huh?"

"I was tasked by His Majesty King Regis himself to stand beside the Prince—as friend and brother. I gave my word, and my word is my bond."

"I—"

"Commander," Laura said sharply.

Noctis's vacant gaze slid to her, and he seemed to remember himself.

"Right."

Picking up Ignis's discarded sleeping bag from the haven floor, he stomped into the tent to finish setting up. Laura gave Ignis a small encouraging smile before returning to her own work.

She had just finished separating and thoroughly rinsing her enoki mushrooms and had retrieved the nori and scallions when a small voice inquired in a genteel tone, "May I be of any service to you, Miss Rose?"

"Do you know how to cook, Ignis?"

He flushed. "I'm afraid not. I've only just starting learning, but I can chop things," he offered hopefully.

"Great! You can help me chop up these vegetables." He seemed to swell at her enthusiasm and the prospect of being of help, his back straightening and his chest puffing out a little. She placed a cutting board, a chef's knife, and several sheets of dried nori in front of him. "Make sure you slice these into very thin ribbons, because one of my friends doesn't really like vegetables."

He nodded sagely, picking up the knife with a confidence identical to that of summoning his daggers to his hands. "His Highness doesn't like vegetables, either. He's the one I'm learning to cook for." Turning to the cutting board, he exclaimed in a high, ringing voice, "Very well. Chop chop!"

Laura huffed a laugh, and he grinned up at her with bright, sparkling eyes. A mechanical click drew her attention to Prompto lowering his camera.

"Oh. Em. Gee. That—was _adorable_."

"Heh, yeah, kinda," Noctis said from just inside the tent flap. He opened his mouth to say more but seemed to think better of it.

With half an eye dedicated to ensuring Ignis could handle the task—and of course he handled his knife as proficiently as any chef at Arpège—she'd only had the time to check the rice before Laura felt Gladio's tentative mind approach. He leaned suddenly into their field of view, and though Ignis's hand merely tightened around the knife handle, both she and Gladio noticed and shared a glance.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Sure." She turned to Ignis. "This won't take long. Go ahead and finish what I gave you, but don't worry about having to watch anything else. If anything burns, it's my fault, okay?"

He nodded, looking down to the knife in his hand. "Yes, Miss Rose."

Leading her to the edge of the haven, Gladio ran a hand uneasily through his hair. "What did I _do_? I swear I didn't mean to scare him like that, and now he goes rigid every time I get near him. I'm usually really good with kids."

As much as she despised becoming yet another link in the chain of people who'd probably kept this quiet, adult Ignis was obviously a very reserved and private man, and if they didn't know his secrets, nothing could be gained by her telling them what she suspected. This was already in the past, and there was nothing any of them could do to change it—if her suspicions were even true.

Laura placed a hand on his shoulder. "He's just endured a very rough journey. He's been pulled from everything he's ever known. He might not show it openly, but he's terrified."

"But it's worse with m—"

"Hey, Ignis," Prompto called out from behind them. "You all right, buddy? You got blood on your shirt."

Laura turned around to see him pointing at a stripe of blood about six inches long slashed across the mud-smeared linen covering Ignis's back. She thought furiously to when he may have injured himself in that specific manner since meeting him and came up blank.

Ignis spun to face Prompto, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Do I?"

"Didn't we just give you a potion? Did an old injury open up or something?"

The color drained from his face at the mention of an old injury, and Laura's hearts sank. Bloody hell,up until that moment, there had still been the slimmest of chances that she'd been wrong, but the evidence was stacking up to suggest that circumstances were far worse than she'd feared. Regis had been a stern but fair man, described by his marshal as a kind, optimistic soul—surely he hadn't . . . surely she would have seen in his mind . . ..

"Forgive me for appearing in such a state," he let out in a rush. His voice was calm and his expression neutral, but even from this distance, she could see the tremor in his little hands betraying him as he carefully set the knife down on the cutting board next to his perfectly ribboned nori. "I must have fallen and scraped myself. Might you point me in the direction of your washing equipment? I can clean it immediately before the stain sets."

Laura let her eyes fall closed for a moment, wishing with one last hope that this wasn't what it appeared, but all the signs that had whispered to her instinct as an adult were far more obvious in a child that hadn't yet perfected the means to physically suppress every emotion she'd felt roiling in his mind and smother in that goddamn courtesy. God, no child deserved this, but Ignis's heart was so gentle, so kind, so special.

She opened her eyes to see Noctis clench his jaw and take a step toward Ignis. "To hell with the damned shirt, Ignis. You're hurt!"

"Noctis, don't—" Laura called out, but he ignored her, summoning a potion and advancing on the child that had already taken a small step back and gone still. Ignis's eyes slammed shut, but he held his chin high and his jaw clenched tight, ready to face whatever he thought Noctis was going to do.

But as Noctis registered Ignis's reaction, he stumbled to a halt, nearly dropping the potion at Ignis's feet in his haste to pull himself upright. All three men fixed Laura with shocked expressions, all silently wondering what they were supposed to do now.

She let out a quiet sigh. Carefully approaching the prep tables, she slowly reached behind Ignis to turn off the heat on the camp stove before he took another step back and burned himself. Then she crouched in front of him, searching his face. It was carefully blank, his slight body still, but his thoughts were frantically scrambling like a skittering mouse. Searching his eyes, she saw that fear made manifest in his contracted, darting pupils.

"Hey there, it's all right," she soothed, running her fingers up and down his forearms. "I've got this stuff that can take out any stain, any time," she said, thinking of Ignis's own homemade stain remover sadly. "But we can't have you bleeding out here in the wild. It might attract dangerous animals. They may not be able to get onto the haven, but we certainly don't want them surrounding us all night either."

She summoned one of her smaller black t-shirts from their armiger. Turning around and snatching the potion from Noctis's limp hand, she hissed, "You all should leave now."

"No way. We're not going anywhere until I know what the hell is going on," Noctis growled. Behind him, Prompto and Gladio nodded furiously.

"On your own heads . . .," she muttered darkly. Honestly—though this would be mortifying for Ignis when he returned, if he even remembered, it was probably long past time for this darkness to be brought to the light—for both Ignis _and_ Noctis. It was time for Ignis to learn how to share his burdens, and most importantly, it was time for Noctis to grow up.

It seemed that despite Regis's best efforts, the weight of Noctis's destiny had affected him far more than Regis had intended. His mind was always clouded over with a heavy haze to the point where she could read little more from him—until he'd returned from the Tomb of the Wise reeling with heartbreak, anger, and resigned resolve. That haze had blinded him to all but his own lot in life, but now that circumstances were pressing in on him, now might be the opportune time for him to open his eyes to those suffering right beside him. She could see clearly how much he cared for each of his friends, fiercely so, but damn it, he never said a thing and was too wrapped up in his own admittedly prodigious problems to notice. Like father, like son—if Regis's ignorance of Ignis's upbringing was anything to go by—and she didn't want Noctis to experience the same regret Regis had.

She turned back around, settling on her knees at Ignis's feet. "Don't mind them," she said gently. "They're just concerned for your wellbeing; they don't like to see people hurt. Unfortunately, they have all the manners of a herd of galloping garulas."

He let out a tiny, half-chuckle, but his smile fell as she asked, "Can you turn around and take off your shirt for me? I can crack the potion and get it soaking. Then I have this one here for you to put on."

He hesitated briefly, but nodded. "Yes, Miss Rose."

His long fingers made quick work of the row of pearlescent plastic buttons before he turned around, but he paused momentarily before shrugging the shirt from his shoulders.

As the skin of his back was revealed, she couldn't help but exclaim softly, "Ohhh, Ignis . . .."

He'd spoken of his younger years often with her, usually describing times spent with Noctis or the extent of his education. She could tell from what he hadn't said that he'd felt terribly alone, even with the Prince as a near constant companion when he wasn't in school. Still, he'd never spoken about anyone in his life with the kinds of feelings that would give her a clue as to who might have done this to him—likely because it just wasn't in him to hate. For certain, he could be driven to violence and even ruthlessness when the situation called for it—but never hatred. All that pain and misery and loneliness, and it had _just made him kind._

"What the _hell_?" Noctis ground out, and Ignis twitched a little at his tone.

"Oh my gods," Prompto said in a low, tremulous voice.

"Fuck," Gladio muttered.

It was difficult to tell beneath the mottled canvas of black, blue, pink, and yellow bruising, but the crisscross of red scarring and angry scabs still puffed up like biscuits in an oven indicated that the violence against him had recently escalated.

The largest of these was seeping blood along the edges, where it looked like he had, in fact, reopened the old wound.

"Please, accept my apologies. I'm so sorry," Ignis whispered heavily.

Laura looked up at the darkening sky to hold back the tears threatening. "It's not your fault, sweetheart."

Taking a deep breath, she cracked the potion over his back, which stemmed the flow of blood but did nothing to heal the older injuries. She turned him around and handed him her t-shirt, which he took with a small bow of thanks and quickly pulled on. He looked down, idly toying with the hem.

"You have my thanks," he murmured.

"Ignis." She held her arms open to him, but he frowned, confusion clouding his mind. When he hesitantly mirrored her, she pulled him into her arms and squeezed him as tightly as she dared, careful to keep her hands near his neck so as not to touch his back.

"It's all right. It's going to be all right." The only indication that he gave that he'd heard her was a tremor running down his body. Then, knowing the boys would ask him anyway and likely be none too gentle about it, she said, "May we please know how you got hurt?"

He stiffened in her arms and took a step back, hanging his head to stare at the glowing runes at his feet. "The fault is entirely mine. Unfortunately, I make errors sometimes, but you have my word I shall do my very best as long as I'm a guest here."

"But who—" Gladio began, but stopped as Ignis clenched his teeth shut. Of course, whoever had done this to him would've instructed him to keep his silence, and wild sabertusks couldn't pull an answer from Ignis he didn't wish to give.

"His tutors," Noct spat. "Only explanation. My— . . . uh, king would _never_ . . .."

Ignis's eyes widened—enough of a confirmation for her, but she turned to Noctis with a cold expression. "And what would _you_ know of palace staff?" she asked, pointing out Noctis's slip in a way that Ignis wouldn't question. No matter how shocking this discovery, he needed to keep in mind that they were all still in very grave danger. "Anyway, it doesn't matter right now."

"The _hell_ it doesn't!" he roared.

"Please don't be upset," Ignis whispered. "The error was mine."

Only Ignis's quiet words stilled Noctis's outburst, which allowed Laura to step toward the stove.

"Here's what's going to happen." She poured warm water through a strainer full of gyokuro leaves until she had a potful of electric green tea. "My friend here," she motioned to Prompto before turning to assemble a bowl of rice, tofu, and toppings, "is going to hang out with you while we go over there and have a chat." She poured the tea over the bowl and set it on the prep table. "I've set you up with dinner, so after you've changed into some clean trousers, why don't you go sit by the campfire and eat, hey?"

"I would rather you didn't fight on my account," he pleaded, looking up at her with overly large eyes, but he still held his hands out to take from her the smallest pair of pajama trousers she owned.

"No, sweetheart. These guys always could use a good lecture on manners." She cupped her hand to his cheek, running her thumb along his cheekbone to wipe away a smudge of dirt. "You sit and eat, and when I get back, we'll see what we can do about those older injuries of yours."

Grabbing Noctis's sleeve, she led him away, jerking her head for Gladio to follow, but she stopped next to Prompto before they'd stepped onto the haven ramp. He gave her a tight, sad smile.

"If he finishes his bowl, get him another, even if he says he's not hungry. And for gods' sakes, do not say a word to him, no matter how politely he asks for information. He's not quite a master at manipulating people with those manners of his, but he's getting there."

Prompto frowned but bobbed his head in understanding. "Yeah, I gotcha."

"I'm sure the others will catch you up after." She placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping she could touch that so very insecure part of him with her words. "I don't mean to exclude you. I just need someone to keep an eye on him, and you're the only one I can trust not to intimidate him."

His response was a more genuine smile that made his sapphire eyes light up a little. "Thanks," he whispered.

When they were out of earshot but still close enough to see the haven, Noctis spun around to face her.

" _You_ don't seem surprised. How long have you been keeping _this_ from us?"

"I've had an idea as long as I've known him, but I didn't know for certain until I saw his back. Honestly, I've known you all for over two weeks. What was I going to say? 'Hey, Noctis, your friend there seems a little on the submissive and obsessive side. Is it possible he was abused as a child?'"

He paled at the frank way she'd named his condition. "He never said a word," he whispered, "I just—I don't even know—"

"Of course he never said a word. Protecting you is who he _is_. Protecting those he loves is what makes a man of his heart willing to summon a blade and force it into flesh. You should know yourself the inclination doesn't come naturally."

"I guess. We've trained our whole lives, but it's different out here—more real. He just did everything so perfect. Was always getting on my nerves to be perfect too."

"He gets on your nerves cause he knows you can do better," Gladio said, folding his arms over his chest.

"He's more complex than just being a stuffy perfectionist. Don't you understand what it takes for a man to become what he is? To anticipate every need around him to the point of obsession? What did you think drove him all those times he sat up escorting us merrily around Leide, even though he'd just undergone every trial that we had? Where did he derive the energy to forage, plan, and cook all those meals even after that? To stay up after you all had gone to bed and work on laundry and finances? It certainly wasn't inspired by the Ebony!"

Noctis looked down at his boots. "Guess I didn't really think about it like that. Just thought he was . . . I dunno, picky. Thought he liked it."

"A good deal of it stems from his love and duty to you, but people don't tend to _enjoy_ dedicating their lives to chores, Noctis. It's a testament to the strength of his will that he's as well-adjusted as he is, but those monsters undermined the foundations of his spirit, wresting away his self-worth so they could re-mold him into a servant. I wouldn't be surprised if it were true of the others as well, in some form or another," she said with a motion to Gladio.

Gladio raised his hands and took a step back. "Hey, leave me outta this, thanks. I mean, I got knocked around a little, but nothing like _that_. I had a good childhood."

"Thank goodness that's so. But has Noctis ever taken a moment to wonder what it was like to be raised with the entire city believing you were nothing more than a meathead used to protect the life of your king? Forgive me, I know you value your position more highly than that, but I also know what it's like to be judged for what you are destined to do and not who you really are."

"Who I am doesn't matter when I have a job to do."

"Yes it does matter, Gladio! Of course it matters when that which protects the King is a man and not a piece of armor. When was the last time someone asked you about your other hobbies? Those books you're always reading? A dull soldier certainly doesn't study the tea ceremonies of ancient Lucis or Silence of Knowledge. It says that the man who shields the King has a mind as well. It makes you a more formidable opponent, Gladio."

Gladio fell silent, and Noctis could only gape up at him—a painful, stabbing sort of revelation washing over his thoughts. At their anguished color, Laura softened. He was so young, his future so dark. He wasn't _supposed_ to have all the answers to life yet—none of them were. But as usual, fate was giving him little choice.

Laura continued in a gentler tone, "I told you to cherish them, Noctis, and I know you do. But you're still not getting it. Ignis _always_ takes care of you, and he truly does enjoy it because he cares deeply for you. But when was the last time you took care of him? You weren't the only one dragged into this fucked up destiny of yours, and you need to stick together if you're going to succeed. Cherishing them means taking a look around once in a while and _noticing._ "

Noctis stared down blankly at the ground and intoned, "He always noticed everything—everything about me. Even now . . . it's like he can see through my every move. No way I could stay here two days and him not figure me out."

"You know as well as anyone that Ignis doesn't tolerate ambiguity. If he didn't perceive all the details, he didn't know enough not to make a mistake, and he got punished."

Understanding and horror overtook his expression as she continued, "Yes, see what I mean? _Every_ aspect of his identity has been influenced by this. I shudder to think how he must be cursing my name at my scant instructions back in Insomnia right now," she chuckled bitterly. "Talk about ambiguity."

Gladio cleared his throat. "I wouldn't worry about our Iggy. If any of us could figure out how to prevent a paradox, it'd be him."

"Well, I doubt his education exposed him to much in the way of temporal mechanics, but he is an intelligent, resourceful man."

She grew quiet, looking back up at the haven where Ignis sat in his own camp chair, his bowl of ochazuke balanced carefully in his lap as he dabbed daintily at his mouth with a handkerchief. Even grown up—deep down, he was still that little boy with a mind sharper than any blade and a heart that loved more than all of Eos and so desperate to be loved back. He just hid it better than most.

"You love them all, Noctis," she said in a low voice, not looking away from where Ignis sat. "But you need to show them now and then."

"All right," he sighed irritably, running both his hands up through his bangs, "I get it. And I'm noticing _now_. So what do we do? We can't just send him back."

"But we have to," Gladio interrupted. "If he doesn't go back, he doesn't grow up to come with us. Paradox. And we can't tell him anything or prepare him or teach him to defend himself . . . shit."

"Or the world will end," Noctis finished.

Laura nodded. They seemed to be catching on faster than most. "Welcome to the world of being time sensitive. I ask that you please keep this moment in mind the next time you scream at me for withholding information."

She sighed heavily, looking back toward the haven. Plans were going to have to change. She considered what she was about to do and how much energy it was going to take up. Was it even possible? Reaching out to the mind around her neck, she said, _Eilendil, I may need your help on this one. Can you keep watch?_

Worry and irritation in equal measure prickled in her mind before he replied, _And ensure that you do not kill yourself? You know I do not have much energy to give should you need it. Are you certain the child is worth it?_

 _Yes, he's worth it,_ she growled at him. _**They're**_ _worth it, and you know it._

 _Idiot girl. Your hearts have always ruled your head._

 _Not always, as you well know. But it's a positive trait, in my opinion. I've worked long and hard to get it back, so you may as well get used to it._

 _I have my doubts. It is going to get you killed one of these days._

 _You've been rather one-note lately. Does that mean you won't help?_

He huffed at her. _Yes, of course I shall keep watch, but for you—not them._

 _Thank you, dearest. I do love you, you know._

 _No need to remind me. I am not a twenty-year-old child._

Satisfied she had at least his reluctant support, she considered her spell and reached out to the twisted, writhing timelines, which still felt unnatural and nearly unreadable in her head. But there, in the middle of all the chaos sat one, very simple, almost smug-looking fact: this was _supposed_ to happen—had _already_ happened. She couldn't see the exact path of the lines, but there was some sort of time loop that needed to be closed, which left her path forward very, very clear. If she didn't complete the loop, she could end the world in much the same way Ignis could—a potential paradox hidden within a potential paradox.

"I heard Cor mention a base. Is that our next destination?"

"Y—yeah," Noctis said hesitantly, confused by the change in topic, "he wants us to take it out."

"Is that something you can do without my help once Ignis is back?"

"Yeah, Cor's gonna meet us there. But where will you be?"

"Out of commission, most likely. Listen, I can heal his back—"

"But what does that matter if we're just gonna send him back to Professor Libri and his other tutors?" Gladio interrupted.

"Let me finish. I can heal his back. I can also craft a spell that will protect him in a way that won't disrupt the timelines. They can still hurt his soul, though. And by the stars, if there was anything I could do about that and still leave him Ignis, I would in a heartbeat." She looked between Gladio's and Noctis's alert, hopeful faces. "He'll just have to rely on you to pull him through as unscathed as possible."

"I was there, once I got to know him," Gladio said emphatically. "Still am. All he's gotta do is ask."

"And therein lies the issue," Laura pointed out, because it wasn't only Noctis who tended to take Ignis's servitude for granted. "He may imply, but he'll _never_ ask."

"Do whatever you need to do to protect him," Noctis said. "And I promise, I'll do the same from now on, for all you guys."

"I'm going to hold you to that, you know," she warned.

"So you're gonna do your thing and heal his back. Then what?" Gladio asked.

"I'll be exhausted after using such a powerful spell. You should leave as soon as you've eaten, but I'll need one of you to keep an eye on the haven during the day. I'm afraid I won't be able to watch him as closely as I'd like. Stay out of sight, though, especially with the camper in full view of the haven."

"Will you be okay?" Noctis asked.

Honestly, she had no idea, but she replied without hesitation, "I'm always all right. Let's get on with this, shall we?"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

I had already outlined and written most of these chapters when I stumbled across Ginia, but I had to stop reading because of the similarities so as not to be influenced too much. If you're a fan of Gladnis, I highly recommend checking out this author's amazing work, particularly Coming Up Who We Are.

Fun fact: OS from the reddit Discord has said that data in the game still exists that makes Ignis out to be a bit of an alchemist. There was to have been a feature in the Regalia's trunk that would allow him to make his own cooking oils and things.

The book Gladio is always reading in the car is really called Silence of Knowledge, which is his favorite book according to the King's Knight chatter.


	17. Chapter 17

Prompto was looking distinctly nervous by the time Laura returned to the haven with a marginally more composed Noctis and Gladio in tow, fidgeting restlessly under Ignis's scrutinizing gaze.

"Hey! You're back!" he exclaimed, leaping out of his seat.

"Hey!" Laura called back cheerfully. "Let's eat." As she passed by Prompto, who was taking Ignis's empty bowl from him to refill, she whispered, "Thank you."

Prompto nodded as he followed her to the prep tables and said under his breath, "Anything for Iggy. You guys find a way to help him?"

"Sort of. You'll see, and they can explain after you've all left."

Fortunately for her, she'd had the accidental foresight to use ingredients this evening that hailed from a universe more amenable to her digestion. The spell whose logic she was currently running through with Eilendil in her head was going to drain her considerably, and she would be needing as much help with recovery, miniscule though it was, as she could get. She'd grown to tolerate food from this world since aligning her resonant frequency to match this discordant universe, but no matter how hard Ignis tried to entice her palate, it still sat heavy in her, making her feel sluggish.

The effect was lessening with time, thank the stars. But though the meal itself wouldn't be an issue tonight, disappointing Ignis was still what held her focus.

 _There's no way I can integrate the timelines to take the energy from me every time he gets hurt. It would drain and kill me instantly._

 _What if you used the boy as a source of energy as well?_

 _Come now. You know if it would kill me, it would certainly kill him—kill the both of us together. You saw what the time magic did to me in Insomnia. What if I created a reservoir in him with Lliamérian magic?_

 _With the energy drawing from him? That would work, but for how long could you sustain the spell? You cannot protect him until he meets you. That is too long—too much._

Ignis was twenty-two years old now, and judging by his comments about learning to cook, his past counterpart was ten years old. That made twelve years to cover. Eilendil was right; she couldn't sustain the energy for that long—not on this world, anyway.

However—he'd attended university at fifteen and joined the Crownsguard at sixteen; perhaps then would be safe?

 _I could survive six years._

 _Are you attempting to convince me, or yourself? I do not like this. These humans will be the death of you, Laurelín._

Laura ignored his comment, already well-versed on his opinions of her more harebrained schemes. She pulled away and glanced around the campfire.

Ignis sat quietly in his camp chair, the waistband of her buffalo-checked pajama bottoms bulging around his middle where it had been folded over several times to accommodate his shorter height. He took in every detail of his surroundings as he slowly worked on his second bowl of soup—from the flames dancing in the ring in front of them, to the flash of movement of a wild sabertusk his eyes couldn't quite identify in the distance, to the crude glowing runes that spelled out the surprisingly complex messages that protected them from daemons and wild animals alike.

"If you're still hungry," she said, nodding to the bowl he'd just finished, "please help yourself to as much as you would like."

"Thank you, Miss Rose, but I've already had two helpings. I couldn't possibly eat another bite."

"This stuff's different," Noctis grimaced, stabbing at the bowl with his spoon. "A little too . . . healthy."

"How'd you make that broth? Never tasted alstrooms that strong," Prompto said.

Gladio took another bite, swallowed, and nodded appreciatively. "Yeah, what in the name of Bahamut's balls is this stuff, anyway? It's actually pretty good."

Laura cast an amused glance at Ignis's wide-eyed, scandalized expression. Choosing her words carefully, she replied, "It's called ochazuke. I dipped into my ingredients stash to make this, so I'm afraid you won't find anything like it around here. The broth is actually a tea called gyokuro konacha, and though the soup does contain a type of mushroom similar to alstrooms, it's the tea you're tasting. Everything else should be identifiable to you."

"Well damn, girl, gonna have to have you cook more often for us, eh Iggy?" Gladio said with a smile and a wink at Ignis.

Ignis tilted his head, his lips subtly parting to form the shape of the word "Iggy" with a questioning look. "Me, sir? I wouldn't want to presume . . . it was the most delicious meal I've had in recent memory, however," he added diplomatically to Laura.

"Thank you."

When they had finished eating, Laura was the one to wash the dishes while Ignis dried. Sensing that the atmosphere had grown tense once the food had disappeared, Ignis remained silent by her side as she worked over the final wording and logic of the spell for the reservoir. A single word, a misconjugation, a fumble in pronunciation, and she could wind up killing them both and destroying the world in the process. Unfortunately, if she didn't even try, the timelines were implying that the result would be the same. Either way, she had to go through with this.

Indistinct murmurs from the other three huddled close in their chairs around the campfire added to the tension. Laura could tell from the color of their minds that Gladio and Noctis were bringing Prompto up to speed on the plan, but she didn't quite understand the reason for Noctis's aggressive anguish—not here in this place where there was no enemy on which to seek revenge. The third night they had camped in Leide, when Ignis had felt far more exhausted and irritable after so many days in the heat without decent rest or a real shower, he'd sighed deeply into his hand and reluctantly admitted that he never really understood what went on in Noctis's head, even after all their years together. She had to say that even with the advantage telepathy brought, she was no better off. Noctis handled stress in a way she would never understand—remaining sullen and silent until it was suddenly bursting from him in a flurry of anger and yelling, as though he'd never learned to handle negative emotions properly.

She didn't envy Gladio and Prompto's task these next two days.

She closed her eyes as she dismissed the last dish. They needed to get this over with. The boys had already lingered for far too long, and every moment increased the chance of a slip of the tongue. Taking Ignis by the hand, she led him to her chair and sat down, pulling him to stand close in front of her so she could look up into those almost eerily aged eyes of his. Somehow he knew—this tension was centered around him.

"The boys are going to leave soon. Then it's just going to be you and me until you go back. Will you please allow me to heal your back before they go?"

He pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose with a finger and frowned. "You needn't waste more potions on my account, Miss Rose. His Majesty's magic is not a resource to be used lightly—and certainly not for my sake."

"This won't be a potion. Please?" she pleaded, hating herself for manipulating him like this, but it wasn't as though she could ignore the potential paradox, either. "It would make me feel so much better if I knew you were completely healed."

He paused to consider her words for a moment before replying, "I shall do anything you wish if it pleases you." For what seemed the millionth time that day, she smiled as her hearts broke for him. Subservient Ignis was _not_ someone she ever wanted to see again, and she would spend the next two days chasing him off if she had to.

But with his acquiescence, a spark of apprehension had appeared in his eyes and mind that she wished she could quash along with her own fear. This Ignis had not yet grown accustomed to her energy signature, and while she had adapted her touch to the people of this world, she doubted her magic had been similarly affected. This might hurt him, a lot, but she had no way of knowing.

Yet with the memory of those first nights by the campfire arrived an epiphany—but _of course_ , her spell in his body for six years was what had made it so easy for him to help her acclimate when they'd first met. There had been a moment as they'd walked in the Weaverwilds that she'd suspected he hadn't felt that burning murderous instinct the others had, but when he'd stepped away from her touch, she'd read his discomfort as due to the intimacy of the act as well as the pain. Still—he'd managed to hold her hand with far greater ease than Prompto. She'd thought at the time he'd simply endured to be polite.

She had been wrong. This spell she was about to cast, and the timeline resulting from it, was part of the time loop she had to close. At the very least, this meant he would survive this intact and with only a vague memory of these events. It was no wonder he'd asked her the night of the Fall whether she'd ever infiltrated his dreams—this had probably all seemed a dream to his scrambled mind after the return trip to Insomnia.

Somewhat bolstered by the evidence of her future success, she reached up to take both of his hands in hers.

"Okay, here's what's going to happen: I'm going to put my hands on your back and cast a spell. It might feel tickly; it might itch. It might hurt, Ignis. I wish I could say that it wasn't going to, but it's different for everyone. If it does hurt, it should only be for a second, and then you'll be as good as new. All you have to do is hold still."

A bolt of significant thought shot through him when she'd mentioned casting a spell, similar to that shimmering golden awe he'd experienced earlier today, and she wondered at its meaning. But as she continued to outline what he should expect and what was expected of him, he focused on the task with a single-minded determination, nodding seriously.

"I understand, Miss Rose."

"Very good. Then would you please turn around and lift the back of your shirt for me?"

He didn't hesitate this time as he complied, lifting his shirt so that his injuries were bared to her. The indirect light from the campfire flickered against the lashes, casting eerily undulating shadows against his vulnerable back, and she clenched her jaw, closing her eyes to look away from the sight for a moment. The crack of Gladio's knuckles reached her ears even over the wood popping in the fire, followed by Prompto's troubled sigh.

Scooting to the very edge of her chair, she summoned the magic to her palms and brought them to the skin of his lower back. His torso expanded to inhale as she touched him, but he didn't make a move otherwise. All was still and silent except for the wild nocturnal goings on outside their circle of light. Taking her own deep breath, she began to cast the spell of knitting, blending, healing, and renewal.

"Náranath araīm, logara oá lliana. Mumúren ath narathat, la thana."

As though being siphoned into her palm beneath the silver light of her power, the mottled bruising, scabs, and scars slowly disappeared, leaving pale, unmarked skin as she moved her hand upward and repeated the spell. He had stiffened the moment the magic had begun its work, but his mind indicated he wasn't enduring a great deal of pain. The draw on her energy and the burn from the Crystal was bearable. Things were going well so far, but this was the easy part.

When the last scar had faded to his natural skin tone, she paused with both her hands placed vertically along his spine. Here, she switched to song, which was more effective when casting complex, emotional spells. The quiet, wild melody she chose had originally been composed by one of their finest songweavers to describe the untamed, boundless highlands just to the north of the Kithairon Mountain range on Miriásia. Laudation for the buttery yellow wildflowers that would grow in the meadows in the summer became an ode to Ignis's kind and gentle heart. Poetic descriptions of the jagged pewter rocks decorating verdant rolling hills like jewels morphed into praise for his indomitable spirit, his fierce and beautiful soul.

Next, she sang of the darkness he would face, but also of the family he would one day find in the three men currently watching them—infusing a message of hope enduring. Then she sang of her protection, vowing that she would always watch over him. Strictly speaking, these words would not affect the spell, but she hoped that by adding them, they would bring him some comfort over the coming years and preserve his mind, even if the effect would only be subconscious.

Turning to the heart of the spell, she built the foundation for the reservoir that would lie dormant in him for the next six years—filling with his own energy as he could spare it and activating when he needed protection from pain and healing of his injuries. As she sang, she held the power back in her hands, letting it build until a blinding silver light had gathered to hover between her palms and his skin. With her final phrase, she released the magic, and a silver glow enveloped him—starting at the point of contact before spreading over his entire body and disappearing in a flash.

Laura threw her head back and sucked in a stabbing breath of air, the searing pain too much for her to hide as she felt her life force transfer from her to Ignis. Beneath her hands, she could feel that Ignis had gone rigid as well, and somewhere in the depths of her mind where there was still room to think, she hoped she wasn't hurting him too badly. God, she'd never wanted to be the one responsible for hurting him.

Her energy continued to drain to cover those six years, and for the second time that day, she struggled to maintain her hold on consciousness as angry tongues of lava licked at her every nerve.

 _Come on, damn it._ She gritted her teeth to keep from screaming.

 _Laurelín, stop this!_

Why would he even bother saying such a thing? He knew as well as she that once the spell was released, the energy was committed whether it killed her or not.

 _It's almost done. Don't give me any energy unless you must. We may need it later._

The mental cadence of his voice grew rough and anxious. _If you die here, you leave me alone in this world for eternity, without even eyes to see. Please, do not die._

 _I won't, Eilendil; I promise._

After what seemed forever but was only seven seconds, the drain slowed, then halted as her hands slipped from Ignis's back. He stepped away the moment he felt them leave him, but with that maneuver, she discovered that she was weaker than she'd thought. Her vision began to darken as she sagged forward, nearly tumbling out of the chair and into the fire, but Gladio appeared in a flash to catch her.

"Easy there," he said in a low, deep voice, wrapping her in his arms and lifting her high in the air. She sucked in another breath of cool night air to keep the vertigo from pulling her under. "I've gotcha."

"My hero," she said breathily.

 _By the light of all the stars, you are the stupidest creature I have ever encountered. I cannot condone this. Wake me when we leave this forsaken world._

 _I love you too, dearest._

She reluctantly opened her eyes to try and locate Ignis somewhere below, but she couldn't spot him around Gladio's massive arm holding her head up.

"Ignis, are you all right?" she called softly.

To her relief, he responded immediately. "Yes, Miss Rose. Please forgive me!"

"S'alright, little man," Gladio called over his shoulder. "Stay out here for a minute, will ya?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is he really all right?" Laura whispered, doing her best to ignore just how sick the jostling made her feel as Gladio carried her to the tent.

"He looks fine," Gladio said, but there was a warmth in his tone that had been lacking since before the Fall. "Can't say the same for you though."

She didn't answer, choosing instead to seal her mouth shut as he did his best to gingerly place her on top of her sleeping bag. As she let her body sink into the plush fabric, he summoned her favorite blanket from the armiger and draped it up to her shoulders. He sat cross-legged by her side, looking her over with a tense expression. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something.

"Keep your voice low so he doesn't hear," she reminded him.

"Right. You sure you're gonna be okay by yourself tonight?"

"Yeah. Ignis should sleep through the night. I should be conscious by morning." She forced her eyes open. When had they fallen closed? "Don't come back until the third morning, but stay close. I'll send Ignis if he comes back sooner."

"Will do. We'll be nearby if you need us. Bet we could even hear ya if you shouted loud enough. Just keep your cool if you see a spider or something, got it?"

"Pfft. What would I call you for then? Bet you'd scream like a little girl, Princess," she mumbled.

She felt a hand settle on her shoulder, and she forced her eyes to open to look up at him.

"Thanks," he said in a low, rumbling bass, "everything you did for Iggy—everything you said about both of us. You uh . . .." He took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. "You were right."

He stood without waiting for her to respond, shuffling to leave the tent, but he stopped when she said, "Gladio? I know I've only known you guys for a couple of weeks, but I just wanted you to know—I would've done the same for any of you."

His solemn amber eyes shifted just to the left of her face, his nostrils flaring. He swallowed. "I know I've been kind of a shit to you, but gods _damn_ , if you don't make it hard."

She let the weight of her tone speak for everything he didn't want to hear from her. "I'm sorry. I am _so_ sorry."

"Naw. Iggy was right. You were doin' your job. My dad was doin' his. Just like I'm gonna do mine. After everything you've done? You're family now. We don't got much left."

"Gladio . . .," she said softly, touched, but unsure of what else to say to ease the pain she could still feel radiating from him.

"G'night, Princess. See ya in a couple of days." He turned back toward the tent flap. "Don't worry 'bout a thing with us. You just take care of Iggy."

"Night, Gladio," she sighed.

It could have been a minute or an hour later—her time sense seemed to have abandoned her for the evening—when the rustling of the tent flap and hurried feet slipping across fabric roused her from unconsciousness. She opened her eyes in time to see Ignis fall to his knees by her side, spreading his hands wide to hover reverently over where she lay.

"Miss Rose, please, I must beg for your forgiveness," he breathed. "Had known I would incapacitate you, I never would have agreed to this."

"Then it's good you didn't know. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

He settled his hands in his lap and shook his head sadly. "Forgive me, but I'm a mere servant, and you . . . I cannot be worth—"

"Listen to me. Station doesn't mean anything at all in this world. It's all nonsense, dear. Your worth is measured by your heart, and you have the most incredible heart, Ignis. You are worth more than the stars. Promise me you'll remember that."

He wouldn't remember, she knew, but she had to tell him that once—to try—at least.

"I'll remember; I promise."

"Good."

"Miss Rose?"

She hummed in response.

"Are you an _Astral_?" he asked breathlessly.

"Ha!" she barked before she could stop herself. So, this was the source of that awe she'd felt glowing in his mind a couple of times today. Really, _nothing_ had changed in twelve years at _all_. But she softened when he recoiled a little, an anxious frown bringing a wrinkle out between his brows. "Sorry," she sighed, "but no. I'm nobody, really."

But it was quite clear from the impatience brewing in his thoughts that he'd been sitting on his observations quite long enough and wanted answers.

"But your magic is nothing like that of the Crownsguard. You can _hardcast_. And it glows such an ethereal silver-white. I saw it shining behind me when you healed me and when you summoned your weapons. And the Crystal's magic doesn't work through song. And I didn't recognize that language you sang. And the way you summon things is different. And I've never seen swords like yours before. And—"

"You notice far too much for your own good," she said on a sigh. This conversation needed to end, and soon. "I'm sorry, but I really can't tell you."

A frustrated expression flitted across his aristocratic features. He remained silent, but that fluttering increased like a curtain flapping in a gale. She chuckled.

"You must be tired," she said, closing her eyes. She sure as hell was. "Lie down and go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Yes, Miss Rose," he said reluctantly. With another rustle of cloth, he settled into his sleeping bag and let out a small, shaky breath.

It was the last thing she remembered before she lost her tenuous grip on consciousness.

* * *

She was adrift in a sea of primal savagery—yelps and screams and suffocating, oppressive darkness. She was alone and frightened. Where was Noctis? Where was the quiet, soothing comfort of her safe quarters?

She must stay strong. She'd already imposed enough this evening, but the dark . . . she couldn't breathe.

Laura's eyes shot open, but the gauzy cobwebs of sleep threatened to hold her head to the sleeping bag as she slowly rolled to her side and sat up. Waiting for the wave of dizziness that washed over her to dissipate, she attempted to get a measure of her surroundings. It was far too early for her to be awake—the moon was still shining its ethereal blue light through the tent's dark fabric.

It was several more seconds before she registered what had reached into her dreams and yanked her to consciousness—a heavy exhale followed by a deep, sucking inhalation.

"Ignis?" The tent was spinning as she crawled forward to reach him. She closed her eyes until she felt his sleeping bag underneath her fingertips. "Hey, I'm here," she called softly.

"Miss Rose! I—"

Without pausing to consider what she was doing, her hands found his shoulders and pulled him close. To her surprise, his trembling little body gravitated toward her, his face burying in her neck and his thin arms wrapping around her shoulders.

"I'm so sorry; I'm not usually like this," he said between pants, his voice muffled in her hair. "I don't know what's come over me. I can't seem to control it."

"Shh," she soothed.

She held him, rocking him a little as she gently combed her fingers through his hair. She knew precisely what had come over him. Even as an adult, Ignis got very little sleep on the havens. Well—he seemed to have an antagonistic relationship with sleep no matter where he laid his head, but she noticed that after he'd run out of excuses not to go to bed each evening, he would lie awake deep into the night, his mind prickling in thought and feeling, snapping to attention each time a sound alerted him to what might truly be taking place in the dark beyond their circle of safety. She doubted he'd admitted to himself that his behavior was considered fear, but there was no questioning the label in this child who hadn't fully learned to suppress it just yet.

"It's all right. A nightmare's to be expected after all you've gone through today, and I imagine this is your first time sleeping outdoors. It can be disorienting after life in the city, especially all those strange sounds out there in the dark. But we're safe here on the haven."

He chuckled wryly as he pulled away from her—a small, terribly adult sound in the back of his throat that made her sad to hear. "That's really no excuse for my behavior today."

She flopped back down into the pile of bedding, pretending it was exasperation for his response. "It is to me, and I have just the cure. Lie down on your stomach for me, will you?"

She heard his movement to comply, but he still asked, "If the question isn't too presumptuous of me, Miss Rose, may I inquire why?"

"There's something my gran used to do for me when I had bad dreams. Perhaps it'll help you."

It was about time someone did something kind to this child's back.

When the sound of his movement stopped to indicate that he'd lain back down, she reached out to place her hand under his shirt and ran the very tips of her fingernails gently over his new skin, beginning across the tops of his shoulder blades and working in slow, swirling patterns down to the middle of his back and up again. His lungs expanded his torso as he took a deep breath, and his body slowly collapsed under her hand as he sighed and snuggled deeper into his sleeping bag.

"This was my favorite thing in the world when I was your age. I loved how it gave me the chills," she said softly.

"I like it," he whispered, but he sounded pained, as though it were a dark and shameful confession. "No one has ever . . .."

She waited for him to finish, but no more words came. "Well . . . we'll just have to make certain it isn't the last time then."

After a few moments of silence, she began humming absent-mindedly, already beginning to drift in the space between sleep and awake. Eventually, she felt his mind slow, and she allowed herself to join him.

* * *

The headache and searing timelines thundering through her brain were still sending streams of fire down every fiber of her being the next morning when she refused to open her eyes. Paradoxis notwithstanding, there was just something about this world that seemed to despise her existence. Several planets scattered throughout the universes had required her to realign in the past, and plenty of time anomalies existed that prevented her from using her abilities, but never had she experienced such a constant stream of burning agony from so many sources before. With any luck, this would be the last to hurdle to clear before she could breathe freely again.

Stretching out a hand, she reached out to where Ignis's sleeping bag lay, only to find cool fabric beneath her fingertips. She bolted upright to search the tent and found it empty, but any plan after that had to be put on hold for a moment as she held her head between both hands to keep the tent from spinning. God, she felt like she'd been hit in the head with a troll's club—again.

"Ignis?" she called out, hoping he was nearby, hoping the boys were keeping watch. Her voice sounded far weaker in her ears than she'd intended, and she didn't think she'd have the strength to leave the tent this morning.

"Yes, Miss Rose. I'm coming," came his reply from just outside. Relieved at his quick response, she flopped back down onto her sleeping bag.

Another two seconds passed before the tent flap was brushed aside, and Ignis ducked in, carrying a carafe full of sheep's milk in one hand and balancing a tray with two bowls full of what looked like Cotton Alley Monster Flakes—Prompto's favorite breakfast discovery here in the outlands.

"Apologies, Miss Rose, but it took me longer than anticipated to properly lay out my shirt near the fire without getting it soiled. I'm afraid I couldn't locate an iron substitute."

He'd been busy with more chores than that this morning, as his hair was wet, but styled, his trousers damp, but clean.

"You started a fire?" she asked with some concern. "And how did you manage to make breakfast? You don't have access to the armiger."

He shook his head and set the items down between their two sleeping bags before folding his legs beneath him. "The fire was already going when I woke up, and these were sitting on a chair that had been moved in front of the tent flap. Doubtless it was one of your company."

"Yes," Laura sighed, the corner of her lip twitching into a fond smile. "They can be very thoughtful at times when they think about it."

"Are you all right?" he asked earnestly. She looked up at him, carefully inspecting his face for any signs of lingering pain or trauma from the night before. The green of his eyes was bright and his expression alert and calm in the morning light streaming into the tent. If she cut through her own nausea to brush against his mind, she found that even his thoughts were calm, though still prickling incessantly.

"Yes, I'll be fine," she said, doing her best to sit up slowly.

Ignis lunged forward to steady her when the tent began to spin again. "You're far from fine. Here." He reached behind him and one-by-one, brought each of the boys' rolled-up bags to tuck behind her back and prop her up.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, though she hated that she was likely setting the tone for his inexplicable need to coddle her as an adult. "I'm afraid I may need some additional help today."

After pouring the milk over the cereal, he handed one of the bowls to her and nodded seriously. "Leave everything to me, Miss Rose. I'll take care of you."

Laura shook her head. "No. It doesn't work like that." Because there was only one way she could even begin to accept his solicitude at any age. "We take care of each other, all right?"

The smile that spread across his face was sweet and boyish, enough to crinkle his eyes at the corners. "All right."

Once Ignis had cleared and even washed their dishes, they spent the rest of the day in leisure together. He was a bossy little caretaker, insisting that she not lift a finger to assist him adjusting her bedding or straightening the clutter the boys always seemed to leave behind whether they had slept there or not, but she indulged his miniature authoritarian streak despite her distaste for being nursed.

As the sun rose higher and the heat grew unbearable, Laura pressed a small crack into one of Noctis's ice spells, and she managed to convince him to lounge with her in the crumpled bedding in the cool tent for the day. She found _The Little Prince_ in her Pocket and figured the absurdity and the alien in the story would explain away anything that would point to its non-native origins, so she read to him. Several times, she would open her eyes to discover that she had fallen asleep, and he had taken the book from her to read in a soft, dulcet voice.

She only left the tent twice that day—her arm wrapped around Ignis's shoulders as he supported her weight long enough to guide her to the outhouse. Each time they emerged, Ignis's eyes would widen in surprise at the refreshed fire and tray of Cup Noodles waiting for them, and she could almost hear him wondering how he'd managed to miss Gladio's covert visits. But a rush of tenderness washed over Laura each time she'd felt him arrive and pick his way around the site as quietly as though he were stalking a bounty.

As night fell, Ignis reluctantly led her out to the fire per her request and helped her to sit before settling into his own chair by her side.

"You should be resting," he said with a frown of disapproval.

"I _am_ resting!" she argued, sticking her tongue out at him. He tossed a dubious side-eye at her childish behavior, and she gestured to her lap. "See? Sitting down and everything!"

"It's my fault you're hurt," he replied softly, gazing into the fire.

She leaned over to wrap her arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to the chair arms between them. "Hey, now, none of that. I brought us out here so we could watch the sun set and count the stars as they come out." She looked up at the darkening sky, covered with a thick layer of swirling clouds. "The best laid plans . . .," she sighed.

"The sunset was breathtaking, particularly through the clouds, and with the mountains in the distance—stunning." He pushed his glasses up on his nose and raised his eyes to the sky. "I do regret not being able to see the stars, however," he murmured sadly. "I often read my astronomy book to Prince Noctis, but to see them in person would have truly been an experience to remember."

"We'll try again tomorrow, if we can."

He sat back with a sigh, crossing his legs and placing his hands neatly on top of his knees. Though his lips pinched down in a wistful sort of melancholia, his eyes slid to her—open wide as though he were trying to communicate with his expression alone just how moved he was in this moment.

"This was more than enough."

They didn't need to say a word to each other as they took turns readying for bed. He settled down in his sleeping bag on his stomach, and Laura reached out immediately, spreading her fingertips wide between his shoulder blades and humming soothingly to cover up the rustling and howling of wild animals and the creaking and shrieking of daemons appearing nearby. She dearly wished she could put him to sleep telepathically so he could get an uninterrupted night's rest, but there was no possible way to obtain his permission without explaining what she was doing. So she remained awake with him, brushing her nails over his skin and singing softly until she felt his mind drift off.

Ignis was still asleep when she forced her eyes open the next morning, his arms wrapped around one of the spare pillows she'd summoned the day before to make their little fort more comfortable. Hesitantly sitting up, she found that her surroundings remained where they should, and though she still felt as though she could lie back down and sleep for the next week, she decided to get up and prepare Ignis a proper breakfast. Her first thought was to make something simple like eggs and soldiers, as adult Ignis personally preferred an uncomplicated breakfast. But then she remembered.

Given their history together, there was really only one choice. The timelines needed to be preserved, after all.

Just as Ignis never took shortcuts no matter how exhausted he was, Laura began from scratch, using the finest ingredients she could find in her Pocket—the largest, juiciest encore peaches, picked at the very end of the season after spending the summer soaking up the sun to create the perfect balance of sweet, tart flesh; the very finest Gatarthian vanilla bean, harvested on the driest night of the first of the cold season to produce a potent, almost floral flavor; a dash of maple syrup; nutmeg; cinnamon; ginger—all went into the pot to simmer down to a softened, fragrant compote while she prepared her favorite mixture of nutty grains and oats from six different planets in five universes.

Her knees were beginning to tremble from fatigue when Ignis emerged from the tent, dressed in his day clothes but his hair still in disarray as he searched the haven and spotted her assembling their bowls.

"Miss Rose, I didn't hear you awaken. Please, allow me to—" He took the bowls from her and ushered her to the chairs.

"Ignis, I'm fine."

"You're _not_ fine; your entire face is ashen. I beg of you, please sit."

She huffed as she complied, and he handed her one of the bowls with a chastising glare before taking his to his own chair.

"I can't bear to spend another day cooped up in the tent like that, but we'll have to apply sunblock to your face as soon as we're finished with breakfast. I left it by the water. Can't have you going back with a holiday tan."

"Honestly, you're as stubborn as His Highness," he mumbled, but then he seemed to remember himself and shot a wide-eyed look at her. "My apologies, Miss Rose!"

Laura laughed merrily. "You're not quite as yielding as you let on. Good for you." Though really, she'd already known that.

He ducked his head bashfully, a delicate flush spreading over his cheeks as he took a bite of his breakfast. His eyebrows shot up to his messy hairline as he chewed.

"This is delicious. May I inquire after the orange bits?"

"It's a fruit called 'peach.'" With a flash of silver light, she pulled a full peach out of her Pocket and handed it to him.

He brought it to his nose and sniffed experimentally before handing it back to her. "The aroma is intoxicating, the flavor complex, cutting through the sweet nuttiness of the grains just so. My thanks for sharing it with me, even if you risked your health to do so."

"You are very welcome, sweetheart. It's far more fun to enjoy something when it's shared."

"Indeed."

Standing to take her bowl to the dish bucket, she smiled cheekily down at him. "Now, hurry up and eat. I've got a very important lesson planned for today."

She took a step forward to ruffle his hair, but she felt the blood suddenly drain from her head as the knee bearing all her weight buckled beneath her.

Just before the darkness wrapped around her spinning head, she heard Ignis's frightened cry drawing closer.

"Rose!"

* * *

Gentle, hesitant fingers were probing at her cheeks, and she reached up to brush them aside. "Miss Rose," a small, worried voice entreated, grasping her fingers and squeezing tightly, "please wake up."

"I'm here. I'm awake."

"Can you stand with assistance? I need to get you to the tent."

Laura opened her eyes to find herself staring up at a bright blue sky scattered with puffy white clouds. Perfect. The weather would be perfect this morning.

Ignis's anxious face inserted itself into her peripheral vision.

"No, really. Just tried to do too much this morning, I think." She sat up, stretching her neck experimentally and running her fingertips over the back of her head.

"I was able to catch you before your head hit the stone," he explained. "Now _please_ , return to the tent."

She shook her head and summoned her blanket to her hands. "Told you, I have a very important lesson planned. Did you happen to find the sunblock I left out for you?"

"I'm afraid I was a bit busy," he said guiltily, but he stood and rushed to the spot she'd indicated, hurrying to comply. She waited until he'd covered his hands, face, and the back of his neck before she attempted to stand.

Even Laura knew at this point that she was being obstinate, but she only had until tomorrow morning at the latest to take him on a life adventure, and they'd already wasted so much time yesterday lying around.

"At least allow me to do whatever it is you intend to do with that blanket," he huffed impatiently, grasping her elbow and ducking under her arm to support her as she stood.

"We're just lying it down over there near that boulder."

He led her to the stone she'd pointed out and leaned her against it before taking the blanket and spreading it out as she instructed, curling one edge up so that it formed a makeshift pillow on one side. When he had finished, she crawled up the blanket and stretched out on her back, patting the space next to her, but she stopped when she felt his mind color with unease. What might she have done this time to upset him so?

"What's wrong?"

"My apologies, but I haven't any paper or pen with which to take notes," he said calmly, but a crease had formed between his brows. "Might you have a spare I may borrow?"

Laura shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile, patting the blanket by her side again. "It's not that kind of lesson, sweetheart. Not all lessons are about memorizing facts and being graded. Now come lie down. This is supposed to be fun!"

"I suppose you _are_ lying down, at the very least."

His mind relaxed as he came to lie down next to her, but only once he'd settled and looked over at her for additional instructions did she allow her expression to grow glittering and euphoric.

This was her favorite part of spending time with him—at any age, it would seem—showing him the wonders of his own planet. She'd tried a few times with the others: Noctis was only mildly interested; Prompto preferred a landscape based on its photographability and the presence of wildlife; and Gladio appreciated the scenery, but preferred to be left alone to contemplate it. With Ignis, however, his mind would go still with wonder and amazement before looking over at her with those viridian eyes lit up with delight. It reminded her of those days, so long ago, when she was nineteen and being stolen away from Earth by the Doctor to be shown the wonders of all of time and space.

Would that she could do the same for Ignis. But without a temporally shielded vehicle, she couldn't pull corporeal beings into the time vortex along with her, so she would have to settle for showing him this, which seemed enough to him for the time being.

"My skin feels all tingly," he said, a grin lighting up his face to match her expression. "Feels as though my skin will go crispy like in an oven."

"Yeah, ain't it lovely?" She beamed at him. "Wouldn't be able to stay like this for long, but the shade from the rock's gonna cover us up soon. But we're not here for the sun. Nah, we're here for that sky," she said, pointing at the never-ending stretch of cerulean sprinkled with hundreds of puffy white cumulus clouds above them.

His eyes slid up to where she was indicating, and as usual, his mind went still for a moment before he said reverently, "I don't believe I shall ever tire of that sight. It's so different every time I look up. One could always see the daylight sky in Insomnia, of course, but not like this. It's clear of the haze of the Wall, the pollution of the city."

"And with the clouds, ya get to pick out the shapes. Come on, whaddya see?"

It took some time convincing him to use his imagination, but he was eventually able to relax into the exercise and master the concept with his usual level of skill. In no time at all, he was pointing out clouds and comparing their likenesses to objects from his daily life: cars whose makes and models she'd never heard of, the Citadel, a ballerina doing a pirouette, a subway train, a steaming bowl of soup, a violin, one of Noctis's favorite television characters.

Apprehensive about inadvertently saying something that would draw attention to her foreign status in this world as she had their first day out in Leide, she stuck to mundane objects she knew existed in his world—a toothbrush, a stack of books, a cat—but the exercise grew somewhat boring after a while. Then she changed tactics.

Pointing at a thoroughly ordinary-looking cloud, she said, "I see a grand banquet table, big enough to seat fifty, with a full set of fine dishes and silver, a soup tureen, and, see that little piece in the corner there? That's the fish course."

The look on his face was priceless as he turned to her; he gaped for a moment before arching a single eyebrow, his mouth tightening in a frown to keep from laughing in case she was serious.

"Either that, or a dualhorn . . .." She turned back to the sky to inspect the cloud again, careful to keep her expression serious. "Yep," she nodded sharply, "a _very_ complex dualhorn."

An undignified, piggish snort sounded in her left ear, and she looked over to find him grinning like a madman up at the sky, his entire body convulsing with silent laughter. She let a smile grow wide across her lips and giggled like a child herself, elated to see him acting his age for once, and his eyes scrunched tight as his convulsions grew to full, unashamed snorts.

"This is the most absurd lesson I've ever had," he gasped between breaths.

"Those are the best, most important kind, you know," she replied with a tongue-touched smile.

He squeezed her hand tightly when she reached for it, and together, they dreamed and laughed up at the clouds.

Their lesson ended as it grew too overcast to pick out any shapes—unfortunately, it would be another night she couldn't give him the stars—but they remained on the blanket for most of the day, watching the clouds grow thicker and greyer as she told him stories about a sad, old alien in a blue box who found a friend in a nineteen-year-old shop girl from London and traveled the universe together causing all sorts of trouble. It had been millennia since she'd allowed herself to recall those days, but even if he never remembered these pieces of herself she'd given him, they were her way of repaying him for his invaluable friendship and all those nights he'd given himself to her without any expectation for reciprocation.

Perhaps when he returned, he wouldn't mind hearing them again.

As evening approached, Laura could feel the timelines beginning to unfurl in her head, easing the clenching tension and allowing the headache and nausea to subside somewhat. A bolt of pride flashed through her as she thought of adult Ignis, wherever he was and whatever he was doing at that moment. It seemed that everything was going to turn out all right as soon as she was able to properly rest from this ordeal.

To her surprise, Ignis requested more ochazuke when she asked him if he had any preferences for supper, but of course he wouldn't allow her to stand long enough to prepare it herself. He let her start the rice and the tofu, but he insisted she sit down while he handled the nori and scallions and followed her directions for putting the bowls together. When it came to brewing the tea, however, he paused.

"May I please try some of this on its own?"

"Of course." She summoned an ancient purple mug and got up to pour some from the pot.

His eyes widened when he took a sip. "This is remarkable. Why does it taste so much like mushrooms if there aren't mushrooms in it?"

Ignis was a gifted child, obviously well-read and well-learned far beyond his years, so she didn't speak down to him as she answered, "The leaves are grown in the shade just before they're harvested, which reduces the rate of photosynthesis and increases theanine levels—that's the amino acid that creates the savory flavor."

Ignis frowned for a moment, but then he nodded his understanding. "I see. And why does the reduction in photosynthesis increase theanine levels?"

"Sorry, I don't know everything about everything, you know!" she laughed.

He grew quiet as they sat around the fire and finished their supper together, almost as though he knew that his time left here in this place was fast coming to an end, but she still made her best attempt at keeping up the cheer as she taught him to make s'mores and every cheesy, pun-related joke in her repertoire that was safe for him to know until his sad eyes sparkled with mirth.

But not once did he laugh as freely as he had while watching the clouds.

The spell wasn't completely broken until they readied for bed, when she regretfully handed him the shirt he had arrived in. "You might be going back tonight. You should wear this, just in case."

And just like that, the leisure of the last two days was washed away as though she'd doused him in frigid water. His expression didn't noticeably change, his eyes grew dull and his posture more rigid.

It was then that she realized he hadn't once asked her when or how he was getting back to Insomnia.

"This has been a most enchanting dream, Miss Rose; I hope to have it again sometime. But I do need to get back. His Highness needs me."

"I know, dearest," she said sweetly, drawing him into a fierce hug. She wished with everything she was that she could be there to protect him when he returned. Who knew what his tutors would do to him when he reappeared after going missing for two days? Adult Ignis might have thought to pull some strings somehow, but if not, she would have to do some finagling before she left this universe. "I wish we could keep you here with us."

He pulled away from her embrace and searched her face as though he were trying to memorize her features.

"Will I ever see you again?"

She gave him a slow, beatific smile. "You will, someday. I promise."

* * *

Ignis lay down beside the strange woman who had been his guide to this dream world for the past two days and closed his eyes. He was no fool; he knew she'd lied to him about being nobody, but then, what vision would freely admit to being an Astral?

He couldn't seem to help the deep sigh that escaped him as he felt her nails whisper against his back, sending waves of tickling chills down his spine as she hummed that melancholy melody. As soon as he awoke, he was going to research the name of it, along with every other odd aspect of this illusion that had arisen. Ignis knew the scope of his own imagination, and while it was considerable, it was hardly _this_ extensive or absurd.

Dream or not, he remained awake for as long as he possibly could, soaking in the goddess's affection until he felt her hand fall limp across his shoulder blades. It was only then that he allowed himself to weep silently.


	18. Chapter 18

_If you get hit, know the effects are temporary, but above all, you must prevent a paradox, no matter how much you might want to change things._

Those words had been a refrain playing over and over in his head for the last two days, with perhaps her expletives acting as the hook. But it was regret that had become the verses for Ignis as he settled into the more deserted stacks of the Royal Library. He'd spent many a night here in his university years at the tender age of fifteen, dusting off faded obscure texts on the mysterious origins of the Lucian language or scrolling through microfilms of older war coverage. At the time, the quiet solitude inside his own mind had suited him, for he had owed no one anything in those hours of silence.

But now that he had come here and verified that a paradox was precisely what he'd thought, his duty to keep the world intact bound him there—no matter how much he wanted to run to the King and tell him everything, no matter how much he wanted to fling himself into the nearest cab and visit his parents, no matter how much he wished he could summon every weapon at his disposal and protect every last man, woman, and child from what lay ahead.

A dark part of him wished that he had explored the city before rushing out of the Citadel entrance and winging his way here, just so he wouldn't have felt obligated to obey her final instructions, just so he could claim ignorance. What would it have felt like to walk among the bustling streets of his home once more and revel in those echoes of life? But it would have been merely a mirage—he would have been the last truly living man walking among the dead, gagged against uttering a single word of warning to any of them, including his king. No, it was best that he remain where he was. He'd already come too close to destroying his future world when he'd bumped into an eleven-year-old Gladio and his father quite by accident not a minute after he'd arrived.

Looking back on his life thus far, he knew he couldn't have fit more into it than he had already, but that regret burning in him made him wonder if he'd always prioritized the most important things, especially knowing now that much of that which he'd spent so much time on was no longer useful after the Fall. Would it have been so awful if he'd found some graceful way to let the King know of his fond regards? Could Noct have gone a single day without an escort, or even gone with another, such as Gladio, so he could have visited his mother and father? He most certainly should have never cancelled a single meal with his Uncle Caeli.

But it hardly mattered reviewing how he could have done things differently in the past, even if his past was currently in the future. The most necessary and effective action was making plans for his present, which also happened to lie in the future. Ignis had spent his entire life preparing for a future as Senior Advisor to the King of Light, which no one had truly understood the scope of, so he'd spread his considerable cognitive resources thin to encompass as many subjects as possible. That broad scope was what had convinced him it would be necessary to join the Crownsguard despite it not being required for his position. He could assist Gladio in fighting whatever darkness was coming for Noct, whether it was an entire army of Magitek or the mysterious Starscourge that no one besides Lady Lunafreya seemed to know anything about curing.

Now that his scope was beginning to narrow, Ignis found that his time could be far more efficiently spent in his research. He had taken advantage of this free time in the library these past two days to review any information which may prove useful in traveling to the different regions of Lucis to collect the Royal Arms—including foraging, tactical strategies for daemon hunting, area history, offensive and defensive magic, healing magic—though he knew he would never be able to make headway against the scourge as Lady Lunafreya could—Niflian geography, and even some small amount of mundane field medicine for Laura. But as it had been his entire life, details about the outlands and other countries beyond a superficial overview were difficult to find, particularly information regarding the vanishing disease that had proved so much more prevalent than previously assumed.

After hours of sitting still, he would stand and stretch, extending each muscle in his long and lanky frame until they burned and tingled as he reached for the ceiling. He'd thought he'd been missing the cool cleanliness and comfortable luxuries of civilization, and really, he had. But he found that sitting in chairs all day no longer suited him. He missed using his body and brain in equal measure. He missed the thrill of the hunt and tactical planning on the wild, open plains of Leide. He missed Noct, Prompto, and Gladio. He missed Laura. Astrals, he hoped they were all safe from that horrible creature after he'd been . . . transported.

He had no idea how long the "temporary" effects would last, so Ignis had convinced the café owner downstairs that he was a starving student and would trade a few hours' food preparation work in exchange for a sandwich or two. The café owner, a grandmotherly woman with a careworn face and bright brown eyes, had pinched at his collarbone, declared him entirely too thin, and sent him on his way three hours later with six enormous sandwiches and a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. Doing his best to brush aside the no doubt inadvertently implied insult to his physique, he'd stashed his bounty in the back of the refrigerator in the employee break room and still had enough provisions to last a while, at least.

This wasn't a long-term solution, however, so he settled into one of his favorite sections of the library—the linguistics section—to make his plans. Not only was this area always deserted because the majority of even the most scholarly academics were unaware of the true nature of the discipline, it was also located in a corner with a window overlooking a picturesque courtyard, with trees dropping their vibrant gold and scarlet leaves onto the benches below as the sky darkened beyond the Wall. He settled into the plush black armchair that he himself had likely moved to the window as a boy. This concept gave him pause, but he knew it was safe enough to be here now, as he'd never had the time to visit on the weekdays.

He would have to leave Insomnia should this "adventure" last longer than a week. There was too much of a chance for him to run into someone, anyone, he knew from the future, as well-connected as he was. But without access to Lucian crowns or a functioning mobile, he would need to find means for purchasing provisions, finding places to stay, smuggling himself out of the city at the very least. How would he know what was safe to say and do? He thought of Laura walking through all those periods of history. How did she always know what was safe? She must have some innate sense or an item in order to move freely about the worlds in which she traveled, else she'd cause destruction wherever she walked.

Pushing his second and third fingers up under his glasses to rub at his eye, he settled deeper into his armchair, arranging his notebook and tome on offensive field magic in his lap so it wouldn't fall if he fell asleep. Anyone happening by and seeing him in this state would likely think him yet another overworked intern and leave him be. He turned to his book, unconvinced that anything could be found in it that would help Noct in strengthening his connection to the Crystal and thus the hold he would have over all magic wielders once he took his place as King.

As for Ignis's personal arsenal, he'd been satisfied with what he had accomplished thus far with his natural talents in spiritual and healing magic—his recently-mastered regroup and new overwhelm techniques had proven extremely useful in more difficult battles the past few days. But of course, there was always room for improvement. He'd been toying with the idea that he could possibly use the new spells Noct had put into flasks, with their ability to spare allies from the damaging effects of their magic, to place a boost on Noct's sword, but he had to run a few more tests before he could inform Noct that the technique could be safely relied upon in battle.

As he'd been developing the theory, Ignis had believed only Noctis would be able to sustain the elemental magic using his power endemic to the Caelum line, but he was beginning to wonder— _was_ his connection to the Crystal through Noct powerful enough to fuel an element under his own magic as some of the Glaives were capable of? The ability this book described to imbue one's blades with the capacity for sustaining an element for short periods at will seemed promising, but he could likely only make it work with a single element, if at all.

Perhaps he would begin experimenting with fire. There had always been something about tossing a fire flask that he'd found particularly satisfying, something about the element itself that spoke to something deep in his blood. Was it the way the heat and light burned away the darkness and consumed all obstacles in its path? Perhaps it was how fire could be warm and comforting as well as raging and ferocious.

Perhaps he was simply growing weary after another long day buried in books and was growing fanciful.

* * *

Something soft brushed against his back, and his entire body jerked as his eyes shot open. Ignis didn't recall falling asleep, but the lack of light combined with the warmer temperature and change in atmosphere indicated he was no longer in the library.

He . . . _had_ been in the library, hadn't he? Surely, that hadn't been a dream, had it? Reviewing the past couple of days, he found that he only had a vague sense of what he'd been doing, as though his research had been a dream recreated after the fact, the details filled in so that his well-ordered mind could fully make sense of the experience. The fact that he felt as though he'd simultaneously been hit by a bus and recently experienced the flu contributed to his uncertainty.

Whether laid up in bed experiencing a vivid fever dream or traveling back in time for the last two days, he had to be somewhere now. He began to raise himself to his elbows to peer into the dim, but that touch that had startled him awake in the first place made itself known again. It felt as though a hand were resting on his bare shoulders beneath his shirt.

He froze.

"Shhh, Ignis," came Laura's sleepy mumble in the dark from just beside him, "I'm here."

He sucked in a quick breath as he felt fingernails scraping lightly between his shoulders, sending familiar tendrils of comforting chills down his spine. All right, so he was in the tent alone with Laura, who had apparently felt comfortable enough with him to touch his bare skin in sleep. This sudden escalation in their interactions, though as pleasant a sensation as crawling into bedding fresh from the dryer on a frigid winter's evening, was beyond bewildering. If he had indeed been in Insomnia for the past two days, what had been happening here? Clearly, he had still been here in some capacity, or Laura wouldn't be so . . . solicitous with him right now. Had his body lain here while his mind had traveled back in time? That didn't seem likely, as he'd needed a corporeal form to affect events.

He began to grow somewhat alarmed when he heard Laura half-heartedly hum several notes of an impossible melody before drifting back to unconsciousness.

He'd only heard that melody once before—the last time he'd experienced such an intense hallucination. Had she lied to him when he'd asked whether she'd ever infiltrated his dreams? Or perhaps it had been accidental, an unconscious reaching out that she'd been unaware of at the time. But then that would mean Rose had been neither a figment of his imagination nor a vision from Shiva.

He wasn't quite ready to face the consequences of that line of reasoning just yet when he wasn't even certain what exactly had happened. The answers wouldn't simply appear before him; he had to wake her to discover the true nature of recent events and, most importantly, learn where the others were.

As he shifted to his side to face her, her hand slid down his back and around to his ribs. He shuddered at the intimate touch and guiltily met her eyes as they snapped open wide—though this entire scenario was hardly his fault. As quick as lightning, she snatched her hand from beneath his shirt and sat up.

"You're back," she said shakily. "I'm sorry; I thought I'd feel it when you returned and could move away in time."

He ignored her response, as well as the shiver still singing down his nerves, in favor of the most important information he needed. "Are the others all right? Where are they?"

He could just barely make out her expression in the dim moonlight, but he grew concerned when she closed her eyes. "Everyone's fine. You were the only one hit by the paradoxis, the creature you saw. The others are staying at the camper just across the road. You're welcome to go and wake them now, but seeing as how it's the middle of the night, I doubt even Noctis's relief to see you again will eclipse his grouchiness at being awoken at this hour."

"I don't believe there exists anything in this world capable of such a feat," he replied with a crooked smile, but he grew serious as she leaned forward as though searching his expression.

"How much do you remember?"

"I—I'm not entirely certain. I thought I was dreaming when I found myself standing in the middle of the entrance of the Citadel, bumping into an eleven-year-old Gladio."

"Yes, I felt that. You were right to get away. And after that?"

"I had a vague notion of what a paradox was, but I went directly to the library to verify. Of course, it was difficult finding reliable sources, time travel being a theoretical construct on our world. Afterward, I may have haunted the stacks of the more deserted wings, making plans in case I had to settle in for a longer stay."

"Hmm," she hummed warmly, "at the risk of sounding condescending, I'm so proud of you. Not everyone handles their first time traveling experience with as much resourcefulness and level-headedness, you know."

He let out an indelicate snort. "First time traveling experience? I should hope it was my last, thank you. Standing on a blade's edge of the world ending for two days is not something I care to repeat."

He felt her hand settle over his gloved one. Odd—he hadn't been wearing them in the library whilst reading. "Are you all right? I know that can't have been easy for you, being back there."

He looked down at his lap, pushing down his grief and regret for a moment before nodding. But this wasn't what he wished to discuss. "I must ask, what has transpired during my absence? There are indications that I was here in some capacity."

"You should remember some of it, don't you? The paradoxis switched you for your younger self. I've been playing host to you as a ten-year-old for the past two days."

He stiffened, letting his eyes wander to a loose thread sticking out from the seam of her sleeping bag. He'd have to trim that before they packed up in the morning, else it would unravel before long.

But he could no longer shut out her words. There it was, confirmation of the source of the vision he'd carried with him for the past twelve years—a kind and gentle seraphim offering him respite from the Prince's convalescence with reading and sleeping and watching the clouds and _oh._ So much of his adult life had been shaped by that day. He had thought her to be Shiva in his youth, sent to him as a lodestar to guide him through his difficult school years. And though the Royal Family—and by reluctant, obligated extension, Noct—historically tended to offer their prayers to Bahamut at shrines of trinkets and onyx statues, Ignis had spent the rest of his childhood offering his own quiet devotion to the Glacian in gratitude for her kindness. He had never been as strict a follower as he'd heard was the case with those living in the southern regions of Tenebrae. Not once had he stepped foot into her singular glass temple in Insomnia—not even to appreciate the breathtaking crystalline structures and stained-glass windows the priests and holy artisans had crafted in her honor. But he had devoted a considerable amount of his precious time studying what little could be found on Messenger lore and, more practically, the art of healing magic in deference to all she had done for him.

A half a life's worth of dedication to the ideal of the Ice Mother, and this entire time, it had been a case of mistaken identity. His goddess Rose had been real—flesh and blood and standing right in front of him. He recalled awakening in his favorite chair in the library with bitter tears stinging his eyes, thinking it had all been a dream paired with a bizarre case of somnambulance. The fact that no one, not a single tutor or even Prince Noctis himself, made mention of his absence contributed to his theory.

But as he'd lain awake in his bed later, the scent of fresh wild air already beginning to grow hazy in his memory, he had decided to treat the goddess much as Noct had treated Carbuncle in his own vision and hold her as a talisman against the dark. Shiva—his Rose.

"Oh, my word. That _really_ happened. All these years, and I thought you had been a dream."

Laura tilted her head and inspected him carefully. "It did really happen. How much do you remember from that time?"

As the years progressed and the power of his vision had faded, he grew more proficient in his duties so as not to need his Rose as often, and he'd slowly let her slip from his mind to the point where it had been years since he'd last thought of her, until Laura had appeared and stirred his memory of the experience. It _was_ a relief to have the mystery of where he knew her from solved, at least. It had been a most irksome inconvenience, that puzzle insistently poking at his mind like an angry, buzzing fly.

But he shook his head at her, not willing to try too hard to recall the details so he wouldn't feel obligated to discuss it. For so long, he'd held his Rose secret in his heart, and he wasn't quite ready to speak of it with anyone—not even the source—until he was no longer reeling with the aftershock of this discovery. "Not much, flashes of your face, mostly."

She hummed in affirmation and closed her eyes, leaning back into her pillow. "And the song," she whispered.

"Yes. I confess to spending a great deal of time trying to learn the name of it in my youth. I even wrote a composition of it when I could find no evidence of its existence. How did you know?"

"Noctis almost let something slip in front of you. Implied you used to sing it to him when he was young. It's called 'Once Upon a December,' by the way, but you couldn't find it because it isn't from this world."

She let out a long, slow yawn, then said, "M'sorry."

Ignis squinted into the dark, attempting to see her face in greater detail. She seemed exhausted, and he wondered what she'd had to do to save the others from the paradoxis. Knowing that everything had turned out all right in the end and that everyone was safe, he could wait until later to hear more. He himself was rather fatigued after spending two days catching a few minutes here and there in an armchair as he contemplated what, precisely, it would feel like to be the one responsible for ending his entire world.

"No, I should have waited until morning to inconvenience you. Please, go back to sleep."

He settled down on his side facing her and allowed his gaze to roam over her already sleeping form—her eyelashes laid against her pale cheeks, the angle of her jaw, the curves of her silhouette in the diffused moonlight. Suppressing the desire to graze his fingertips over the line of her cheekbone, he removed his gloves and glasses, placed them above his pillow, and closed his eyes.

In between taking notes and ruminating on all he'd regretted not doing in the past, Ignis was able to recall a potential regret in his future that had kept surfacing in his mind as he'd sat in that library, like one of Noct's sea bass breaching the surface of the waves just to tease him.

Laura. He was afraid he was developing feelings for her. His heart couldn't identify them, but his head was screaming that could possibly be love, and that was terrifying. He couldn't possibly . . . enamored, perhaps—attracted, most certainly. It wasn't as though he'd never been drawn to the sight of the occasional man or woman from a distance, but he'd certainly never followed up on the matter. Besides, Ignis was the sort to prefer the aesthetics of a beautiful body combined with a sharp mind and a kind heart, and the chances of encountering such a person who found him equally attractive in return were absurdly low. These emotions of his, however, were far more than an enticing flash of a stranger from across the street. He found her rare and extraordinary beyond anyone he'd ever met in his life.

But he should have known, really, when his heart fluttered as though he were a character in some silly romance novel that first night she had sat in the moonlight at the haven. And there weren't just feelings there. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he _wanted_ her; he'd wanted her since the moment he'd contained his longing to run his hands over her skin as he held her hand by the fire. That sharp, spicy scent of warm pine sap had settled in his veins and set his blood on fire, and though he still believed his reaction to be due to the science of pheromones, he found himself contemplating for the first time in his life what it would feel like to put his mouth on another person's skin, whether she tasted as intoxicating as she smelled.

Ignis had always been the sort of man who decided on what he wanted or needed, or what Noct wanted or needed, and went out to obtain it as efficiently as possible: his cooking skills; his degrees in military science, political science, and economics; his rank of sergeant in the Crownsguard and all the accompanying skills that went with it. But this was different. This wasn't the simple matter of crawling into the pits of hell and forcing his blades into the hearts of his foes as he'd been training for since he was sixteen. This was his heart, over which his head had always taken precedence. He didn't know how to balance the two and wasn't equipped for it, and when he was around her, he would find himself swept away by one or the other in any given moment. Even now, he was torn between ignoring the matter of romance as he always had or waking her and asking to press his lips against that mouth of hers, Six damn the consequences. More and more, he found he wanted to be swept away for once in his life. He wanted to be the one to be carried, to be carried off. He'd let go before with her and trusted her to be there to catch him, and she'd thus far never let him down.

In a way, she was far safer than any other choice he could make. His duty to Noct wasn't in jeopardy, as their goals were the same in that regard. But she was still a goddess—his own personal goddess, in fact—and he was still a mere servant to the Crown. His own meagre title was still nothing in comparison to divinity. Was he daring enough to pursue a goddess despite being unworthy? It was better than regretting that he'd never even tried. And, if he proceeded with caution, he could strike when he was certain of her reciprocated feelings without risking their friendship.

He had been wrong in front of her. He had been weak in front of her. Now she could watch as she inspired him to be audacious. This was folly, but he couldn't help himself. Gods damn it, he wanted to _live_ , just this once, and see where it got him.

* * *

From beneath his closed eyelids, Ignis could tell that the light had only just begun to change, but he was loath to open his eyes and break the spell he was under. Astrals, he was so warm, so comfortable, with that enticing scent of pine and kithairon enveloping him and the delicious sensation of her body breathing against his. But he needed to get up and see for himself that Noct was safe, so he opened his eyes to face reality.

She was still there when he looked down; he had migrated toward her like a lover in the night, and somehow, he held her head cradled in his left arm. His right hand rested perfectly in the dip below her ribcage and around to the small of her back, but he wasn't the only one displaying physical affection in this embrace. When he realized that her hands were curled up against his chest, he sucked in a quiet breath, savoring for a moment the heat of her body seeping through her shirt and into his palm. He could feel his face and neck growing flush, but he had to remind himself that he couldn't take any true meaning from this moment. Not only was she currently unconscious, she was the sort of woman who was free and open with her affection.

However, she never seemed to cross a certain line when she was friendly with Gladio and Prompto. Perhaps, if he subtly expressed his interest in touching her in a friendly manner when she was awake as Prompto and Gladio had, she would become more demonstrative with him and perhaps cross that line if she were interested. Yes, that seemed to be the most sensible way forward while he thought of a more comprehensive plan.

As carefully as he could, he disentangled himself from her, noting that her brow furrowed as they separated, but she made no other indications of stirring. He hastily arranged his hair before she could awaken, intending to change out of his filthy rumpled uniform and take a full shower in the caravan as soon as he prepared breakfast as a peace offering for rousing them all this early in the morning. But when he emerged from the tent, he immediately spotted Gladio almost comically tiptoeing up the haven ramp with an armful of firewood.

"Gladio," he called softly.

Gladio started and, on spotting Ignis, dropped the armful of firewood at his feet with a clatter.

"Fuck. Iggy!"

So much for his caution in not waking Laura.

Gladio jogged up and yanked him into a hug, resting his chin against Ignis's shoulder and slapping his back roughly. "It's so good to see you man."

"Good morning to you, too, Gladio," he said mildly, patting Gladio's shoulder in return and attempting to mask his surprise at his overenthusiastic greeting. "Was the lack of proper nutrition these past two days really that distressing?"

Gladio pulled away and inspected his face closely. "How long've you been back?"

"Only a couple of hours or so."

Gladio seemed to be searching Ignis's face for something; the expression in his eyes reminded him of Laura always doing much the same. When he spoke, his enunciation was careful and earnest. "You okay? Do you remember being here with us?"

Ignis frowned. He hadn't recalled any time spent with the other three, but either way, he preferred to keep the entire experience to himself much as he had these last twelve years.

"Flashes here and there, nothing more."

Gladio hesitated, opening his mouth as though he wished to say something, then nodded before tilting his head to scratch at his scalp. "Yeah, makes sense, I guess," he said on a sigh. "You were pretty young then. And you? I mean, damn, this time thing's confusing. Were you okay back in the Crown City?"

"Quite all right. Once I realized what had happened, it was only a matter of avoiding everyone."

His voice dropped in pitch and volume, growing soft and gruff. "How was it, being home?"

Ignis let his eyes drift to the dead campfire and kept his expression carefully blank. "Exactly how you would imagine, I suppose."

"This is all some fucked up shit, you know?"

"Indeed."

They stood together in silence for several moments, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the blackened logs and piles of ash. Ignis wasn't certain he could put a name to what he was feeling, but it felt like camaraderie, solidarity. He wanted to say something to Gladio—words of comfort, perhaps that his father would have been proud of him for picking up and carrying out his duty after experiencing such a profound loss, but any words he could have given would have merely broken the moment and cheapened the experience, so he allowed the silence to speak for him.

He heard Gladio take in a deep breath, then felt the light slap of a hand against his shoulder.

"Tell you what, I'll go wake up Spazzy and Sleepy and get 'em back here to help take camp down. Cor's got an assignment for us we better get movin' on."

Ah, yes. Nothing focused the mind better than a task on the horizon. "Very good, though I'd ask you not to return the keys until Laura and I have gotten the chance to use the facilities. In the meantime, I'll start breakfast and wake her."

Gladio looked toward the tent and frowned. "Naw, best let her sleep in. We'll take the tent down last if she sleeps through the cleanup." Before Ignis could ask after her condition and the circumstances behind it, Gladio turned and headed down to the camper.

Eager to catch up on the news, he managed to find a radio station on his phone, which he set on the table next to him and turned down low so as not to disturb his sleeping companion. Then he set about pulling out a large stack of Mama Eden's garula ham and arranging the slices on the preheated grill as he listened. Reports on the imperial occupation, the people plunged into anarchy, the installation of a provisional government—with each announcement, disquiet would tear at him. They should be there now in the thick of things, taking back what was rightfully theirs, but he knew it wasn't a tactically sound plan until they had acquired Noctis's Royal Arms and the Crystal.

Particularly curious was the report of Lord Ravus Nox Fleuret's promotion after his involvement and severe injury in the invasion. Ignis's hands paused briefly over the bowl of cracked eggs when the newscaster announced that the new high commander now carried His Majesty's personal glaive.

" _The high commander insisted that the late King Regis gifted him with the glaive as a gesture of goodwill before the signing, denying claims it was taken as a spoil of war afterward. With armistice talks tabled indefinitely, suspicions of the high commander run high, many alleging he pilfered the blade after the king was slain._ _But official media deems this version of events to be false."_

Ignis was unfamiliar with Lord Ravus's character or precisely where his loyalties lay, but he _was_ certain that the more benign version of events was untrue. Upon his death and transformation into a Lucii, His Majesty's glaive would likewise transform into a spectral weapon made concrete to house the soul of his power, to be fully wielded by another of the line of Lucian Kings alone. It would be possible to steal, as King Regis had been forced to store the sword out of his armiger for years, but as a gift? That weapon was part of Noctis's heritage and not something His Majesty would give to anyone under any circumstances.

Perhaps King Regis had given it to Lord Ravus for safekeeping. Perhaps it was just another part of Noct's rightful inheritance that the five of them would have to take back by force. Time would tell.

It had been nearly a half an hour since Gladio had left to fetch Noct and Prompto. The ham had long since finished and was growing cold, but fortunately, he'd waited to start the eggs. He sincerely hoped the delay meant they'd discussed his memory of what happened amongst themselves, as he wasn't relishing the idea of them all fussing over him.

"Iggy," came Noct's rasp from behind him, and Ignis turned to see him staring up at him, some intense, unidentifiable emotion behind his wide eyes.

"Highness, good morning," he greeted with a nod and made to turn to pour the eggs into the hot pan, but Noct stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"It's really good to have you back, Specs," he croaked.

"Y-yeah, we're really glad to see ya, Iggy," Prompto said from behind Noct, and Ignis looked over to see the typically spastic man standing stock still for once, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression troubled.

Ignis furrowed his brow, puzzled by everyone's reaction to his return—almost as though he'd died. "It's good to be back. Is everything all right?"

Noct took a retreating step and allowed his expression to morph into a cheeky grin. "Yeah. Just missed havin' you in charge is all. Gladio's a pain in my ass."

Ignis let out a long sigh. Honestly, he resented being the one to constantly remind Noct to mind his manners. It gave him the unfair reputation for being ill-tempered, but Gladio certainly never assisted in keeping him in line unless it had to do with pugilistic or dueling activities. Who else would keep them all from descending into chaos?

"Clearly, he's already influenced your language in a matter of days. I shudder to think what other manners he's managed to undo in my short time away," he replied, turning back to the stove.

Fortunately, Gladio seemed to have shared what he knew because, aside from their unusual greetings, they displayed no signs of wanting to speak of the matter further. They allowed him to finish with his work, though they all seemed to hover, offering assistance or engaging him in idle chatter. Several times, he found himself stepping on an ill-placed foot or running into an errant elbow as he moved back and forth between squeezing the fresh Duscaean orange juice and stirring the eggs. He appreciated the company, but honestly, he wasn't so delicate that two days away from his duties warranted such solicitude and change in their usual patterns of behavior. They needn't have troubled themselves for his sake. And he'd grown accustomed to working with Laura, who always managed to assist without getting in the way.

Even as they all sat around the dead fire to eat, the meal was spent in awkward silence. Ignis would look up from his plate to find one of the other three casting him a furtive, curious glance before looking away quickly. Had his younger self said something to warrant such behavior? For the past twelve years, he had never recalled a moment spent in their presence, but he found himself attempting to force the experience to the forefront of his memory to remember—all for naught, it would seem.

Prompto was still nibbling on the last of his ham and Ignis was finishing the dregs of his coffee when a dark head poked out of the tent—hair sloppily pulled back into a bun and face grey with fatigue, but smiling. Gladio leapt from his seat, hastening to Laura's side to offer her a hand up.

How odd. It seemed as though he wasn't the only one being treated delicately this morning.

"Morning, guys," she yawned, rubbing at her eyes. "Are we heading out?"

"Yeah, Princess. Gotta drive down to Galdin Quay for a quick stop. Dino called and wants to see us for something—and it better be pretty damn important, far as we have to drive for it. Then we're coming back up here to kick some Nif ass," Gladio said, putting his arm around her shoulder and pressing his lips briefly to the top of her head. To Ignis's surprise, Laura responded by leaning into his side, wrapping her arms around his middle, and squeezing him in a side hug.

What on Eos had happened between the two of them while Ignis had been away? They hadn't even been speaking before Keycatrich—it had been mere days since Gladio had threatened to behead her.

"You think you're feeling up to a drive?" Noct asked softly. He stood and, one-by-one, began collecting everyone's plates to bring to the kitchen area.

"Yeah, think I can manage to sit on a cushioned seat for a few hours, but only if one of you rubs my feet," she said with a wink.

"Anything," Prompto said, completely serious, but she shook her head and laughed.

Ignis's eyes shifted to each member of the group in turn, lingering longest on Noct, who was placing the dishes in the wash bucket, and Laura, who was still leaning under Gladio's arm. The fleeting thought flitted through his muddled head that he'd been returned to the wrong universe, but there simply had to be a less complex reason for this behavior. Evidently, they had experienced something profound in his absence, and not only had Gladio and Noct forgiven Laura for her secrecy, they had all bonded deeply. He felt a slight prick of jealousy in his heart, and the corners of his mouth tugged down at the feeling. They'd likely grown closer working together to eradicate the paradoxis, and it was his own fault for being too distracted with Noct's safety to get out of the way himself. Still, he wished he could have been a part of whatever they'd experienced together.

Ignis assisted the others in taking down the haven as Laura went across the road to shower. He swore he could feel three sets of eyes burning into his back the entire time, even as he took his turn to head to the caravan to clean up. Odd morning though it had been, it was with a fresh set of clothes and clean-shaven face that Ignis joined the other four to walk down the main road through the Prairie Outpost to where Noct had apparently moved the Regalia behind a rusty old storage shed. He automatically reached for the driver's side door handle, but a hand came into view and rested on the door, stopping him.

"Hey Iggy," Noct said. "Why don't you sit in back today?"

Ignis suppressed the desire to let out a frustrated huff. "I assure you, I am sufficiently rested—"

"Yeah, but I wanna drive. You take a load off."

He narrowed his eyes, inspecting Noct's face carefully. It wasn't terribly unusual for him to want to drive for short stretches here and there, but the almost guilty expression and the insistence that he rest was atypical, particularly in addition to his cooperative behavior this morning. Had Ignis's younger self said something to the Prince to unsettle him so?

With any luck, this behavior would resolve itself soon. He decided it was best to let the matter pass, for now, but he would certainly need to ask after a full account of events from Laura the next time they were alone together.

"Of course, Noct."

As the others settled into their usual travel routine, Ignis took the opportunity to watch the scenery fly past the window . . . and perhaps to keep a sharp eye on Noct's driving. Gladio immediately pulled out a book, and Laura began an apparently controversial discussion with Prompto on the pros and cons of filter pre-settings versus doing the work on photos in post-production. Ignis half-listened to the conversation, but when the two grew quiet after a while, he noticed from the corner of his eye that Laura had leaned her head back against the seat, crossing her arms over her middle to make herself as small as possible before sighing and closing her eyes. A flash of movement drew his attention, and he turned his head to see Prompto waving his hands wildly at him.

He cocked an eyebrow in response.

 _Hold her,_ Prompto mouthed, miming putting an arm around her shoulder.

He glared at Prompto. Was he seriously suggesting that he just . . . _manhandle_ her? He shook his head furiously, but Prompto only nodded back with equal vehemence.

Looking down at her stiff posture, it _did_ appear as though she would be terribly uncomfortable after the day-long drive to Galdin in that position. Perhaps . . . though he didn't relish the prospect of doing this in front of the others, this opportunity provided him with a legitimate reason to touch her, as he'd only just this morning proposed to himself. This was no different than holding her hand to help her adjust her resonant frequency, really.

And Prompto's affections hadn't yet been met with disdain. Ignis should trust his social instincts, at the very least.

He adjusted his frame closer toward the door in preparation for what he was about to ask. Hesitantly reaching out, he placed a careful hand on her shoulder.

"Rose?" he called softly, and she snapped her head up sharply at him, too sharply to be appropriate for the situation. Perhaps she didn't wish to be pestered. He dropped his hand and leaned further away from her. "My apologies, it wasn't my intention to startle you. I was only going to inquire, should you need the extra space, you are welcome to lean on me."

What was she staring at? Was she disgusted by his offer? He couldn't see how, as she had slept against Prompto in the past. He couldn't fathom from her expression what she was trying to read in his. His mind flashed briefly to telepathy, but then he didn't feel anything in his head—not that he knew what he was supposed to feel at a telepath's touch. He wondered what her passive telepathy was picking up in his mind this very moment, besides bemusement.

Without any additional input on his behalf, joy blossomed across her exhausted face, and his ridiculous heart fluttered in response.

"If you wouldn't mind. I'm having trouble keeping awake."

Suppressing the desire to allow a foolish grin to spread over his face, he stretched his arm along the back of the seat and reclined against the door.

"Not at all. Please."

Still smiling, she draped herself along his side, resting her head where his shoulder met his chest. A curious sort of tingle tickled at his lungs when she brought her arm across his middle as though she were embracing him and sighed peacefully. She appeared so content there tucked into his side, he wondered whether it would be considered taking advantage if he were to . . .. Removing his right hand from the back of the seat, he patted her shoulder gently, surreptitiously leaving it rested there when he'd finished.

"Ignis," she sighed into his shoulder, barely loud enough for him to hear over the wind blowing over his ears. "I'm so glad you're back."

He had to close his eyes against the swell of affection that rolled over him. As it was, all he could manage as a response was a slight tightening of his fingers around her arm. Before he could glance up at Prompto to make certain that someone besides him was there to witness this and ensure he wasn't imagining things, the click of that damned camera sounded overly loudly even above the wind.

"Thanks, Prom," Laura muttered into his chest. "Just what we need to see as we look back and reminisce: a picture of me drooling all over Ignis."

"Heh heh, gotcha!" Prompto laughed. He locked eyes with Ignis—biting his lip melodramatically, bobbing his head, and giving him two thumbs up. Grateful though he was for Prompto's encouragement that led to this situation, he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Another moment of silence passed before he heard Laura say in quiet wonder, "You called me Rose . . .."

Had he? He didn't recall. He'd been thinking about Rose all morning, so he supposed it was possible he'd accidently used her alternate appellation. Still, he didn't know how to respond to that wonder in her voice.


	19. Chapter 19

Gladio made one more minute adjustment in his seat—one of a series of about twenty—which completed his slow, covert maneuver to keep an eye on Noct and Ignis without anyone noticing what he was doing.

He'd thought with Iggy's return that Noct would loosen up a little, but after his first words spoken in two days, he'd sunk back into brooding as he sped down the highway down to Galdin. At least he was actually doing something useful now instead of curling up in the corner of the camper's rear bunk and staring out the window at the haven. Maybe Iggy wouldn't have to end up straightening him out, after all.

But it wasn't like Ignis himself was the finest example of dealing with things, since he'd chosen to pretend that what they'd all seen hadn't happened. Gladio wasn't expecting a heart-to-heart with tears and hugging and shit, but if Iggy wouldn't even acknowledge it as reality, there wasn't much to be done about it. That staunch silence had probably been fostered in him from the beginning to protect the bastards responsible. It didn't matter to Gladio that they hadn't really known each other yet; if Ignis had come to him all those years ago, he would've done _something_ —even if he was only four years old at the time and couldn't beat those guys to a pulp himself. He would've told his dad. He would've told the King. It would've stopped right then and there. No kid's life was easy growing up as a courtier and servant to the Crown—Gladio himself had the snot kicked out of him on a daily basis in the sparring arena until he'd gotten big enough to do his own kicking, but to've just been silently _beaten_ like that . . . and who knew what else he'd gone through they still didn't know about?

But they weren't gonna discuss it because Iggy knew they didn't have time for sitting down and crying, and Gladio respected the hell out of him for that. What he'd experienced was so much worse than Gladio losing his mom to cancer eight years ago or his dad in the Fall, but he'd still managed to harden himself against the pain better than even Gladio could—something his dad had been telling him to master for years. And that pretty much made Iggy his hero. No wonder that subservient, courteous exterior of his had been perfectly ice cold since he'd known him. He'd been pushing all that shit down and hiding it behind his schedule and his manners flawlessly since he was three years old, what the fuck.

Gladio wondered which of his tutors had been the one to do it. He happened to know a lot of them, having taken a few lessons here and there from most of them in between classes at the private school most of the Citadel kids went to. But no way in hell would anyone have the gall to treat the young Marquess Amicitia like that. His dad would've had them beheaded before they'd laid the whip down.

How lonely it must've been for the little guy, with no one to protect him, no one to turn to. For the first time ever, Gladio was beginning to understand just what it had probably cost Ignis to be in his impossible position—charged with ensuring a reluctant kid became a king while somehow keeping him happy. It kinda made sense now why Iggy had always been even more of a hardass on Noct than Gladio had been when they were teenagers . . . until they'd gotten older, and he'd suddenly transformed into an overly-indulgent parent.

How many times had he gotten into trouble when Noct's moping ass didn't perform to standard? Gladio had heard Iggy's reports to the King from time to time—they'd always been unflinchingly honest. Did he catch hell for that? Why hadn't his uncle stepped in and done something? From what little Gladio had seen of the guy, he seemed to be all right, not the kinda guy to sanction that sorta thing.

Come to think of it, where had his parents been? Gladio had been just as shocked as Noct to hear that not only did Ice Cold Scientia _have_ parents, they had probably survived the Fall. He'd never really given any thought to House Scientia after King Regis had caused that upset a couple of years ago—turned the entire system upside down and changed Iggy's peerage.

Whether Ignis had moved on from his childhood or not, that wasn't going to stop Gladio from tracking down every single asshole that had laid a hand on that boy. Like he'd told Laura that night—the four of them were family now.

He turned the page of his book, using the motion to cover up the fact that he was trying to sneak another glance at Iggy snuggled up in the back seat with Laura. His mouth was pulled down into a serious frown, but that flush of color on his cheekbones proved this arrangement wasn't as all-business as it appeared. The expression in his eyes was enraptured intensity as they followed every shift of her hair against his shoulder, every breath of movement.

Damn, the kid had it bad. She definitely seemed to be the crack in that frigid façade of his.

Gladio and Laura may have been a different place now, but that didn't mean he wasn't concerned for Ignis, especially after what'd just happened. Iggy didn't fall easily, didn't fall at all, and here he was obviously whipped by someone who may or may not return his feelings. He was the smartest guy Gladio had ever met in his life, but first loves could make anyone into an idiot. Laura was pretty free with her affection, just like Gladio. Did Iggy realize that her getting all cuddly didn't necessarily mean she was into him? Then again, a girl wasn't up at three o'clock in the morning to sharpen a man's blade because they were good friends, either. She'd never done that for Gladio.

He'd just have to learn to trust her better. Their king had with all their lives—even if Gladio hated how things went down. She'd already proven she'd die for any of them, same as Gladio would, and she was obviously perceptive enough to come up with all that stuff to defend him against Noct. She probably knew enough about this dance going on to handle Iggy's heart with care.

He returned to his book. Ever since Laura had served ochazuke the other day, he'd been looking for the tea she'd used in his book, but he couldn't find gyokuro anywhere. Gladio had never really advertised the fact, but he actually loved the pomp and tradition of a good tea ceremony, and each country had strict and vastly different rules, making it even more interesting. There was something calming and peaceful about sitting down with a good cuppa—watching the steam curl over the surface of the water, contemplating the flavors, and really taking the time to explore his own head amongst the quiet tinkling of porcelain. There was something philosophical about ceremony for the sake of it—taking the extra care to make the tea correctly, coaxing the different flavors out of a single type of tea with different brewing times and temperatures. The delicacy of the dishes and the way each person's personality could be reflected in the intricate patterns was pretty cool, too.

"Prompto?" he heard Ignis ask quietly, interrupting his search. "I never asked, were you all able to defeat the paradoxis all right?"

"Oh, the paradox thingy was no trouble. Disappeared as soon as it hit you. We got back to the haven no problem."

"Then what has happened to make her like this?" Gladio looked up to see Iggy frowning down at Laura, craning his neck to get a better look at her face. "She appears waxen with exhaustion."

Oh fuck. Had their conversation been vague this morning not because Ignis hadn't wanted to talk about it but because he really didn't remember what'd happened?

"She'll be all right; don't worry about it, Iggy," Gladio said.

Ignis's frown deepened, his keen eyes narrowing dangerously at him. "I suspect, given that you all have been acting most strangely toward me this morning, that I should very much be worrying about it."

"It's no big deal," Prompto said pleadingly. "She said she'd be all right."

"As this has _something_ to do with me, I believe I have the right to know."

"She healed your back, Ignis," Noct said tersely, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

That cold resting expression of his didn't change, but Ignis grew white as a sheet as his jaw clenched hard enough to crack stone.

"So," he said almost conversationally, like they were discussing the fucking weather, "you all saw, then."

"Yeah, we saw it. We saw it all," Noct growled, glaring up at the rearview mirror. "And you should've said something."

Ignis stretched his neck to peer over Noct's shoulder, doing his best to keep still for the girl still passed out halfway on top of him. "Do watch the road, Highness, you're beginning to drift."

"Fuck the godsdamn road, Ignis. You should've said something!"

"That would've been inappropriate. A chamberlain's duties require discipline and discretion at all times—"

"Don't give me that crap. I'm not just your prince, and you know it. I'm your friend. I'm your _brother_. And you should've said something."

At the word _brother_ , Iggy's eyes widened a fraction—the first real response he'd had since this fucked up conversation began. Did he really not know? Yeah, Noct sucked at expressing himself, but Iggy had practically raised the kid for gods' sakes. Did he really still see himself as a servant after all these years? Even Gladio knew they both meant more to Noct than that.

"Oh, let's not be dramatic, shall we? I received an unparalleled education so that I could do my duty with grace."

Noct slammed his hand hard against the steering wheel. "You've been brainwashed! All this time—"

Ignis's expression turned dark. He opened his mouth to speak, but glanced down when Laura stiffened, her hand tightening into a loose fist in Ignis's shirt. They all went still, but after several moments, she relaxed into him again. Gladio wasn't surprised. Iggy was right; she looked like a sickly wax figurine, even after a couple of days' rest.

"What about those first seven years, Ignis?" Noct hissed. "Did you forget she had to heal you in the first place? We all saw it. Your back was covered in bruises and scars. And you can't just tell me they . . . stopped after that."

"Well, you're welcome to look when we reach Galdin Quay, Highness," he said airily, his chin raised in defiance and his expression cold. "There is not a mark on my person."

Gladio had had enough. Did he really think it was normal to be whipped like that and not feel pain, to not bleed? From the looks of things, Laura had almost died for him, and that arrogance in the face of her sacrifice was starting to piss Gladio off.

"That's because of her, idiot."

Ignis went deathly still, and for a second, Gladio could see that terrified kid again, standing in front of that fucking stove and ready to take a blow from Noct that would never, ever come. Now that he knew what that stillness really meant, the sight made him sick.

"What," Iggy said in a flat, dead tone.

"When she healed you, she added something so you wouldn't get hurt anymore when they hit you," Prompto said quietly.

"And _where_ , may I ask," he ground out, "has the energy for _that_ been coming from these past twelve years?"

Absolute silence reigned in the car until they all heard a soft, "Stop it, please. All of you."

Ignis looked down at Laura, tightening his grip so that he was clutching her against his side.

"Please," he said in a strangled tone, "tell me you didn't. Tell me that every bump and injury I have received for the past twelve years hasn't been paid for with your life force." His head shot up to Prompto, then Gladio, then the back of Noct's head. "And the rest of you?" he added incredulously. "How could you have let her do this? How could you think that _this_ is what I would want?"

They hadn't asked about the specifics of the spell when she'd proposed it, and honestly, it wasn't until she'd almost fallen into the campfire that any of them had really cared. They'd just wanted Iggy to be safe and whole, no matter what, and she was always invincible anyway. It'd been real _fun_ in that camper later that night discussing how she was even more secretive than Iggy, and she was probably in worse shape than she'd been letting on. Sure enough, as they'd all taken shifts to watch over the two of them and make them meals that first day, they'd seen her using Iggy's little body as a fucking cane to get around.

"No," she answered. "It wasn't my life force; it was yours. I set up a reserve for your energy, which would lie dormant until you were hurt. It would protect you from most of the pain, heal you, then slowly build up again."

Iggy closed his eyes and looked away from her. "Is it still there?"

"It dissolved on its own sometime when you were sixteen."

The muscle in his jaw twitched as he let out a sigh through his nose.

"Please don't be angry with me. I just couldn't send you back to them without protection. And if I hadn't done it, you wouldn't have been able to help me align in time to be strong enough to use the Crystal's powers in Longwythe. I might've lost one of you."

One of them could've died that night? Well, damn. That was news to Gladio.

Ignis's eyes flew open at her words, his mouth falling open as he whipped his head down to stare at her. They both met each other's gaze in silent, serious communication.

Gladio thought the moment seemed too private and looked away.

* * *

Seriously, Gladio didn't see why everyone thought it was necessary to meet them for assignments. Dino could've given them the location for the gemstones he needed over the phone, but no. They had to drive all the way to Galdin, up to Longwythe Peak, then back down to Galdin to deliver the goods. It was a damned waste of time that had cost them a full day and a half when Cor was waiting on them for far more important shit.

He hoped Iggy planned on sending that asshole copies of their gas and caravan receipts.

But it was probably best that Laura got to sleep that extra day. She hadn't even stirred when they parked at Galdin, and Iggy had motioned for them to go ahead and grab the assignment and the keys to the camper while he got her up and walked her to the chairs out front. Despite Iggy's curt and somewhat demanding attempts to persuade her to stay awake long enough to eat, she had remained passed out ensconced in that bunkroom until they left the next morning, where she stayed awake just long enough for him to awkwardly offer her extra space again before conking out.

It wasn't until Noct had pulled the Regalia onto the dusty shoulder, the gravel cracking under the weight of the tires, that Laura opened her eyes and sat up.

"We're here?"

"It's where Dino marked the map," Noct said. "Just gotta find the stones."

"And it's stinkin' hot," Gladio complained.

"Yeah," Noct agreed.

The second the wind had stopped blowing down his open jacket and across his bare skin, that ridiculously bright sun beat down on him. Within seconds, he could feel beads of sweat popping out of his skin beneath his leather pants. Gladio flapped his jacket over his abs a couple of times as Noct put the top up, but it didn't make a difference. They were about to get out and walk in it anyway.

As they got out of the car, Iggy turned to Laura, blocking the door. "This shouldn't take long. We'll return within the hour."

"Yeah, it doesn't work like that," she shot back, scooting across the seat and slipping past Ignis, who reluctantly stepped to the side and shut the door behind her. "I can't protect any of you from the car."

"You're not in any condition to protect anyone at the moment."

"Come on, guys," Prompto cajoled. "I hate it when you fight. Can't you just make up or something?"

Ignis pulled his posture rigidly straight and stared down his glasses at Prompto, who shrank back at being on the receiving end of his pissy mood. "I would suggest that you leave that between us."

Gladio examined Laura as they began walking across the scorched dirt. She seemed a little slow on her feet, but alert enough. She could kick his ass on a good day, and fuck, he kept forgetting she wasn't the girl she appeared to be. Iggy's bad temper made sense in the grand scheme of things, but she could take care of herself. He decided to step in.

"Let's just get this over with."

Iggy pursed his lips together and nodded sharply, giving Laura a stern side-eye. Eager to end this before Cor called them again and demanded to know just what the hell they were doing, they picked up the pace out to the small boulder that stuck up out of the ground up ahead. As they drew closer, Gladio kept his eyes on the swivel for any danger, but it looked like there was nothing with teeth or fangs interested in guarding the dull, rough chunks of garnet tucked between the crags. He wondered why the hell Dino didn't just drive his own happy ass up here and get them himself.

"Got the goods," Noct called, bending to pick up the stones while the rest of them watched his back.

"That was easy, huh guys?" Prompto said enthusiastically, pushing a little at Laura's shoulder.

She gave him a polite smile. "Yeah."

"It's nice to not have to kill anything!"

"Agreed," Laura sighed.

Gladio rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well I don't. Hope we make it to this base in time to do it tonight. Been itchin' to dismantle some MTs."

Before he'd finished his sentence, the familiar percussive roaring of a Magitek engine in the distance reached their ears, almost like Bahamut had heard his prayers and sent him a load of toys to play with. They all turned in a circle, searching for the source of the sound. Wherever it was coming from, it was approaching fast, but Gladio couldn't pinpoint the location standing in the giant bowl of rocks that was Leide.

"Not again," Prompto moaned.

"Looks like you're gonna get your wish sooner than you thought," Noct said, nodding toward the road.

The bulky hunk of metal hovered into view over a rocky plateau and predictably headed for the largest, most obviously identifiable object within a hundred-mile radius—the Regalia. This wasn't the first time they'd been tracked since they'd fought their way through the ramparts. It seemed like rumor had gotten back to the Empire about the group of Crownsguard rookies causing trouble throughout Leide in the King's old car. They'd been lucky so far, as they'd left no survivors in Keycatrich to report to the human division that one of the young Crownsguard was actually the Prince of Lucis.

The payload doors slowly creaked open to reveal a squad of MTs, which leapt from the ramp created by the open door, slammed to the asphalt below, and began setting up a perimeter around the vehicle.

"Welp, guess we better get movin'," Gladio said with a grin.

Iggy looked over at Laura. "Stay here," he ordered.

Gladio chuckled. He knew where this was headed before the scowl had a chance to finish spreading over Laura's face.

"Fat chance," she shot back, picking up the pace to keep up with them. "It's what? Twelve MTs? Think I can handle it with you lot."

His tone grew more commanding. "I must insist. You're in no condition for a fight today."

Maybe it was guilt keeping him from recognizing the snake pit he'd just fallen into, but for a genius, Iggy could be bone-headedly stupid sometimes.

Laura's eyes flashed dangerously. "Excuse me? You insist? I'll _not_ be mollycoddled. I may not be able to take the base with you, but I'm old enough to handle making these decisions myself."

"Apparently not, as you always seem to be on one foolish errand or another to incapacitate yourself."

"I'd rather be incapacitated for a bit than see one of you lying dead any day," she snapped.

"Guys?" Noct cut in. "Can we just get our car back?"

Iggy huffed a sigh, but they both went quiet as the five of them silently trotted to where those fuckers had taken up a patrol around their car. Laura seemed to be keeping up with them all right, so Gladio put her out of his mind and concentrated on the fight as they approached. The hefty weight of his sword burned down his forearm in a familiar, satisfying way as he swung it in an arc to cleave an MT's head in two before flinging it out to his left to chop the arm off another that was headed for Noct's head.

Damn, it felt good to move again after all that camping and driving!

Cutting down the Nifs was easy work with five against twelve; they just didn't move as quickly as a sabertusk or pack a punch like a dualhorn swinging its head around. By the time Gladio had finished off his third, the squad lay in dozens of twitching, sparking pieces across the pavement—and all without a scratch on the Regalia.

"Nice work, Gladio," Noct said, slapping at his arm.

Gladio hefted his sword over his shoulder and grinned. "Back atcha, kiddo."

Prompto toed hesitantly at one of the sickly green faceplates, tilting his head down at the glowing red still fading from the MT's eyes. He shuddered and looked up at them. "What are MTs, really? They give me a kinda creepy feeling. Something about the way they move."

"They're empty humanoid soldiers. Soulless. Merciless," Iggy replied. "Robotics, essentially."

Gladio stopped when Laura halted next to the car and turned to face them, her expression blank and faraway. A cut on her cheek was dripping a thick, white, pearlescent fluid like a shimmering tear, but she ignored it. Was that her blood? Was she _bleeding_? Gladio kept forgetting she was an alien until weird shit like that just . . . casually happened.

"No, not soulless," she said in a small voice. "Has Lucis done no research on them? Their minds are deadened, but they were sentient once, I think." She closed her eyes and folded her arms over her middle, shivering. "Whatever they were, they're daemons now, shoved into that robotic body and programmed to take orders."

"Think my dad was more concerned about holding up the Wall than doing much research. How can you tell they're daemons?" Noct asked.

Iggy stepped forward and approached Laura carefully, removing his glove and reaching a tentative hand out to cup her cheek.

"May I?"

Laura looked up at him, tilting her head in a silent question. When she nodded, Ignis cradled her cheek in his hand and gently brushed his thumb over the trickling fluid. He pulled his hand back and stared at his thumb curiously.

"M'fine," she said when he rubbed the fluid between his fingers and looked up at her. "It's just blood. Not human, remember? It'll be gone by tonight." She turned to Noct. "Their minds are identical to the daemons we fight all the time—teeming with the same slimy, black, oily substance we see when we kill them. I've never seen anything like it before coming to this planet."

"What is it, you think?"

She shook her head and opened the car door. "I don't know. It feels so wrong and abhorrent that I'm afraid to look directly at it telepathically."

They all got back in the car and shut the doors behind them, and as Noct turned them around to head to Galdin, Laura let out a sigh.

"It's been three days since . . . how much longer will you need to recover?" Ignis asked curtly.

"A few more days. I haven't been able to get the sleep I've needed lately."

"I see."

Without exchanging another word, Iggy raised his arm and leaned toward the door, and Gladio didn't need to keep watching to know that Laura would tuck herself into Ignis's side and fall asleep before they'd even gone a mile.

After delivering the gems and refueling, Ignis insisted that he take over the wheel for the trip back north.

"What's wrong, Specs? Don't like how I drive?"

"I should like to resume our regular routine."

"Yeah, but you drive too slow. I got a need for speed."

"A need to test our mortality, more like. Yet the differences in our driving has nothing to do with fondness of the accelerator but my ability to keep my eyes on the road."

Noct let out a half-hearted chuckle, but it was enough to prove he was trying to let things go back to normal, even if everyone in the car was well-aware the effort was forced. "What can I say? You got twice as many as I do."

"And yet you somehow manage to spot twice as many places to stop."

"Yeah, well," Noct yawned, "the car gets boring after a while. Wake me the next time we pass a Crow's Nest, 'kay Specs?"

"Something to look forward to, Highness."

* * *

Gladio let out a long sigh and tensed his leg muscles, wishing he had a little more space to stretch out. He would've preferred sitting in the back seat had it just been the four of them; he wouldn't've had to shove himself between the door and an armrest that way. Prompto and Noct had just recently woken up and were grumbling quietly about finding more food, but Gladio was ignoring them in favor of his book. He'd have to put it away soon; the sun was just beginning to set, which meant Iggy would need an extra pair of eyes on the road in case any daemons popped up.

Which might've been why Iggy was sitting straight up in the driver's seat, tapping impatiently on the steering wheel and staring ahead with an intense expression.

Laura suddenly leaned into the space between the front seats, placing her chin on Gladio's shoulder. "Still working on the tea book?"

"Yeah. Tried to find your tea in here earlier but couldn't."

She hummed. "The gyokuro? It might be under a different name on this planet. Lemme see?"

"Gyokuro," Iggy said under his breath, his eyes still locked on the road but his tone colored in wonder. "Tea that tastes like mushrooms."

Laura turned her head in Iggy's direction. "Yes," she said softly, but he didn't say anything more.

When Gladio handed her the book, she sat back in her seat, turned to the section on tea types, and flipped through each page at a rapid pace. She did this for about twenty seconds, flipping through all one hundred pages of the chapter as her eyes darted rapidly from page to page. When she finished, she handed it back to him opened to the page he'd been reading.

"Sorry, out of luck. Doesn't look like they've invented shade-grown tea here yet. I'd give you what I have, but it spoils really quickly. Best to keep it in the null-time pocket. I'll tell you what though, it's yours. Just ask whenever you want some."

"You sure?"

"Course I'm sure! Gladio, you have no idea how much tea stuff I have. I think I have enough types to blow your mind with a different tea every day. What do you say? New morning routine? If we're not rushed one morning, I can even teach you a new style of brewing."

"Hell yeah, let's do it," Gladio said with a smile, but as he looked back at her and saw up close that translucent, waxy skin and dark circles beneath her eyes, he added, "when you're feeling better."

"How much stuff can you keep in that armiger of yours anyway? It really isn't anything like ours, is it?" Noct asked.

"I don't think so, but then I don't really know that much about how your armiger works. Mine isn't even called an armiger, actually. I guess I just call it 'The Pocket,' but it's not a name I use often because I never really talk about it with anyone. It's null-time, just like yours appears to be, so food doesn't go bad. Accessible anywhere—that sort of thing. Does make things like aging teas and raising levain difficult though."

"Seems like you can put anything in there. We can carry a lot, but it's not unlimited. And it kinda depends on me to make adjustments to what can be inserted."

"Yeah," Gladio grunted. "Noticed it'll take Prompto's camera but not our phones."

"Hey! It was hard enough adding the food and clothes and stuff! And you guys didn't exactly pack light."

"Lucky Laura didn't add much," Prompto said.

"Ahh, yeah, space in mine is pretty much infinite. I collect a lot of things in my travels, and I need it. I later connected it to an energy source that has a tendency to get bored and create more space for fun, so it gets even bigger on a whim."

Before Gladio could even ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, she turned to him with a smile.

"You know, maybe you should start a tea farm when this is all over and invent your own shade-grown tea—like a hobby. I think you could probably achieve a similar flavor with Lucian varieties. Maybe if you—" She leaned over him and flipped several pages. "—crossbred the Cibum cultivar with the Boletus, perhaps add in a bit of the Herba over the generations, I think the flavor profile would be similar."

Huh, he'd never given any thought to pursuing his hobbies back home. Officially earning his title as Shield had taken up most of his time, and it wasn't like the load had gotten any lighter since. But maybe if he was creative about it, he could do both once they'd gotten the city back on its feet. He could even help people.

As King Regis had gotten older and his job centered more around keeping the Wall intact, his dad had had hobbies—like calligraphy and even painting now and then. Maybe crafting the perfect cup of tea could be his. He could work with Lucian farmers to see to the trees, and maybe he could have a tea shop or something someone else could run. He could source teaware from local potters, display and sell art from local artists, even provide a space for local musicians to perform. It'd give people some jobs, and he could do something he actually chose for himself at the same time.

"Pardon me," Iggy said, interrupting his plans, "but did you just _read_ that entire book?"

"Not the whole thing—about a quarter of it." Ignis looked over at the two of them from the corner of his eye, then returned to watching the road. Laura pointed at her head and added, "Photographic memory."

" _I_ have a photographic memory," he said irritably, "and I assure you I cannot do _that_."

"All right, _flash_ photographic memory then." Iggy sputtered in response, and she laughed merrily. "Stop trying to compete with another species. It's not fair, Ignis."

"Oh, snap! Are you jealous, Iggy?" Prompto teased.

"Seriously though, Princess, is there anything you're not amazing at? It's getting kind of annoying."

Her voice grew quiet. "There are a lot of things I'm not good at, actually."

Damn. It seemed like every time he asked her a personal question, he made her sad.

"The worst one being figuring things out in time," she continued. "I've had seven thousand years to learn things, which makes me seem smart to you guys, but really, it just makes me an encyclopedia. Though my experience learning things the hard way helps me out a lot, it still doesn't mean I'm a good strategist."

Her eyes flickered to Iggy, who frowned sharply.

She suddenly changed to a bright tone, her accent flipping like a light switch, "But I'm bad at other stuff, too. Like maths. Oh _gods_ , was I terrible at maths in school! We 'ad this teacher that'd give us 'omework every day, yeah? And I'd trade wiv my mate Shareen—my French for her maths. We'd copy off each other all the time. Only way I made it through school. Well, actually I didn't. Never did get my A-levels. Left school when I was sixteen to move in wiv a punk rocker."

"Am I to understand that you cheated your way through your education and then dropped out of school?" Ignis asked, clearly appalled.

"Uh oh," Noct chuckled. "I think you just broke Iggy."

She let out another laugh and slapped his shoulder. "Yep! Keep tha' in mind the next time you call me Your Majesty or a goddess, will ya?"

"You are a most dichotomous creature," he replied, pursing his lips and shaking his head.

"And some of the arts I'm pretty bad at too," she continued. "I can sing al'right, but any sor' of instrument? Buggered. I was forced to play violin in secondary school, then forced to stop after a year."

"Iggy plays the violin really well, don't ya, Ig?" Gladio said.

"Well, I make do."

"Bullshit. Guy could've been a prodigy if it weren't for having to take care of that useless bag of bones back there."

"Hey! I've got muscle, and I'm useful enough to take _you_ on," Noct retorted.

"Oh yeah? Keep count of your Nifs tonight. We'll see who's more useful."

"You're on."

Gladio looked over just as Laura leaned forward again, her chin resting on the edge of Iggy's shoulder. Gladio couldn't make out the words she said, but he could hear her low, almost seductive tone as she murmured something into his ear.

Iggy's mouth fell open a little. He took in a stuttering breath before replying, "W-well, I'm out of practice, and I'm afraid I was never very good to begin with."

"Somehow I doubt that, but it doesn't really matter as long as you enjoy it."

"Yes, but I wouldn't want to inflict it on someone else." When he turned his gaze away from the road for a second to see her pleading, hopeful expression, he added, "However, if you're that keen to ruin your evening, perhaps we can arrange to borrow a violin at some point."

She hummed in response and gave him a warm smile before turning to Gladio. "But why am I always the one answering questions? Seems like I'm the only one we ever talk about."

"Cause you got enough weird to fill up all of Lucis, Princess."

She punched him on the shoulder. "I wanna know what _you_ boys are bad at. Come on! Out with it! What was your worst subject in school?"

"History!" Prompto and Noct called out immediately together, giving each other a fist bump behind Laura's back.

Prompto added, "Yeah, we had history together, and it was sooo boring! He had that droning voice that'd put me to sleep every time! Thought I was gonna die in that room."

"After that, we had this teacher with this hideous wig, and we'd try to get paper balls stuck in there when she wasn't looking," Noct said. "And every time a war came up, she'd glare at me like it was my fault. What about you, Gladio?"

"Dad would've killed me if I'd done bad in any subject. I was pretty weak in orchestra, I guess. Played viola in the same community class as Iggy for a couple of years. Outside of school? I sucked at sewing."

"Dude! When'd you take up sewing?" Prompto asked. "And . . . why? I can't picture that."

Gladio smiled to himself. "Around the time Iris turned eight and got into fashion. Took a class with her so she'd have someone to go with and so I could spend more time with her."

"You adore her," Laura said with a soft smile.

"Yeah, she's a good kid. It's rough being so far away from her right now, but I'm glad she's safe."

Gladio hoped he'd hear from her soon; he hadn't since Insomnia fell. Dustin would take good care of her—he was one of his dad's best Crownsguard—but Gladio was eager to get this base handled so they could get to Lestallum and see for himself that she was safe. As much as he tried to shove it aside, he had to accept that he was head of House Amicitia now—he was no longer Marquess Gladiolus, but Gladiolus Amicitia, Duke of Myrl, so Iris, and even Jared and Talcott were his responsibility.

Fuck, that was a terrifying thought. His old man hadn't been around much their entire lives, so Iris was tougher than she looked, but with the way things were working out, he was gonna be even more absent. Gladio's first duty was to Noct, no matter what, and the only blood family he had left was fifteen and on her own in a new city for the first time in her life. They were gonna have to have a few long talks when he got to Lestallum and figure out the long-term money and living situation. The five of them had been making a decent living out here in the wild, but definitely not enough for Gladio to support three people.

It'd gone quiet for some reason, and it took Gladio a few seconds to realize that everyone was afraid to ask Ignis what his least favorite subject had been. But he seemed to have pinpointed the source of the awkward silence, because he volunteered the information himself for once.

"If I had to choose a least favorite subject, I would say combat training—more specifically, the footwork involved."

"Huh, I didn't know that about you Iggy," Prompto said. "I always thought you were amazing on the field."

"My physique just isn't suited for it, I suppose—too long."

"You've been talking to those gymnastics instructors, haven't you? They tell everyone they're too tall and long-limbed. Told me that when I was six years old, but I still took home the bronze," Laura said, rolling her eyes. "It's rubbish, you know. It makes you doubly skilled that you've managed your level of proficiency at your height. And I think you're incredibly graceful when you move."

Ignis's jaw twitched in response, a faint blush rising to his cheeks, and Gladio wondered if Laura was finally executing her secret plan to kill them all by getting Iggy to crash into a tree when he gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly.

"Makes sense you'd say that about footwork though, Ig," Gladio said. "Your weapon of choice requires you to get in close to the enemy, so you either gotta be a beast like me and take a lotta hits or you gotta keep moving. I've always said you think too much on the field; it slows you down, and you don't do enough footwork, which is why you gotta take more potions than the rest of us."

"I beg your pardon?" he asked somewhat pointedly.

"He's got a point there, Ignis. You do get injured a lot," Noct said.

"It's cause you're always next to Noct, who can warp out of the way, unlike you," Gladio said.

As much as he didn't like ragging on the guy, he _was_ gonna get himself killed trying to protect Noct one of these days. It seemed like no matter what they went through, that longstanding argument continued to stand between them. Gladio never tried to baby the kid or manage his schedule and step on Ignis's toes, so why had he always tried to encroach on Gladio's job?

"You'd take less damage if you hung back like Prompto, but then you'd have to rely more on tossing your daggers around. Maybe if you used your polearm more, but then you're not as quick with that."

"Yeah, and you do this attack-retreat thing, where you step back and analyze," Noct added. "Gives the enemy time to figure you out too, ya know."

"If you've all quite finished discussing my . . . inadequacies," Iggy said with a frown.

"Well, what do you think, Laura? You're s'posed to be the expert," Noct asked.

Laura pursed her lips before answering. "I'd never remark on weaknesses in a swordsman's skill in front of other people unless they volunteered in a class or something. I will say that offense wise, you're almost as skilled as I am with a blade, and you're about as quick with them as any human can be."

"By all means, continue, if I may serve as a lesson to the others," Iggy said.

Laura hesitated. "There's . . . room for improvement. No point saying much more, since everyone else's fighting style is so much different than yours. If you're amenable, I believe our styles are similar enough that I could help you."

To Gladio's surprise, Iggy's mood seemed to do a one-eighty, as the corner of his mouth quirked up into a slight smile. "I might be amenable, yes," he said softly.

They arrived at Entethina Haven a few minutes later, where they hastily set up camp so Laura could get back to sleep. Again, she proved to Gladio how good she was at hiding shit, because despite the upbeat conversation in the car, she stepped inside as soon as the tent was up and was unconscious before they'd even left.

* * *

Gladio leaned back in his seat, rubbing absent-mindedly at his blood-soaked arm where a soldier had tried to take it off at the joint earlier in the evening. His brain obviously hadn't caught up with his body yet, as he swore he could still feel the fiery gaping gash despite the hi-potion having healed everything over without leaving so much as a scar. The air in the car was stifling—Ignis had left the top up for the drive back to the haven in case they ran into daemons, and despite summer Leiden nights still being pretty warm, had turned the heat on full blast.

Iggy just didn't realize that wasn't gonna do shit for the shaking. Only time would fade the effects of adrenaline overload in the blood; he knew that from experience.

"We . . . we're doing the right thing, right?" Prompto asked in a voice that sounded like someone had just kicked his puppy.

Gladio and Ignis locked eyes for a brief second, the green impossible to see from the lights coming off the dash and reflecting in his glasses, but Gladio took pity on him for once and decided to answer. He had been, after all, the first of them to stick his weapon into human flesh and blood the day after the Fall.

"You shouldn't have to ask that. They killed our families. The Empire will pay for blood with blood."

"Yeah," Noct agreed, but there was a tremor in his tone that told Gladio he was shaken too.

"Absolutely not," Iggy said forcefully, and Gladio looked over at him in surprise. He thought of everyone in this car, Ignis would be on the same page as him. They'd both trained in the Crownsguard; they'd both known their entire lives that this was a possible future for them, even it hadn't been real to Gladio until that red had stained his steel.

"Ignis?" Noct asked hesitantly.

"It's true we can't let them get away with what they did to Lucis, but it's vital we keep in mind that this isn't about revenge."

"You think we can do it? It's five of us against all of them," Prompto said.

Gladio barked a humorless laugh. "You can call it quits if you're scared. We got a job to do, but you're free to go."

"Go?!" Prompto shrieked. "After all we've been through? But I—"

"You're pissed," Noct said softly. "You're pissed they took what's ours, and you wanna take it back." Gladio looked over his shoulder to see Noct scowling darkly at the back of Ignis's seat. "So do we."

"Precisely," Iggy said with a nod and a touch of pride. "And if that requires cutting down those who would stand in our way, then so be it. This is justice"

Semantics—at least to Gladio. "Think you can handle that?"

"I mean—I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared, but we gotta take it back. Yeah . . . think I can handle it."

He didn't sound sure, but Gladio knew they'd all get over tonight pretty quick. Noct and Iggy at least had been training for years for this kinda thing, and Prompto was made of stronger shit than he thought. Now that the first rush of triumph and survival had waned, the remorse was setting in, but he'd remember what he'd set out to do this for in the first place.

 _Suck it up and get the job done_ , as Gladio's dad had always told him. For him, that was serving his king, protecting his people, and helping to take down the fuckers that had killed King Regis and his dad.

"No, we _will_ take it back," Noct declared.

Now that the blockade was destroyed, they were free to explore the lands of Lucis that none of them thought they'd get the chance to see this soon, since the heir didn't usually go on the royal tomb exodus until they'd taken a spouse. Gladio was itching to leave this dusty desert behind and see something new, but what he really wanted most was to get to Lestallum.

Iris had finally gotten in touch on their way to meet Cor, even if it was Noct she'd called and not him personally. But it was a load off his shoulders to know that she, Dustin, Jared, and Talcott had all made it safely. Still, he wouldn't feel right until he saw them with his own eyes.

But they were probably gonna stay at the haven for a day or two first, since Laura was still asleep when they returned, and Gladio knew he was gonna have to wait another day or two while Noct and Prompto cooed over those godsdamn chocobos. Prompto had brought up the excuse that they could use alternate transportation to the car that kept getting them tracked across the country, but Gladio wasn't stupid. It wasn't that he disliked animals; he loved pets, but damn it, his sister was waiting.

The horizon was just beginning to lighten when they all sat down to a quick meal of multi-meat sandwiches, and by the time the three of them finished helping Iggy with the cleanup, the very edge of the sun was streaking the sky in fiery orange. They were all gonna sleep like shit today with that sun streaming into the tent, no doubt about it, but at least Laura had discovered a way to keep them cool with one of Noct's ice spells.

"Now honestly, the three of you," Iggy huffed as they headed for the tent, "while I appreciate your efforts, I expect to resume our normal routines starting tomorrow."

"Whatever you say, Igs," Gladio replied before Noct could argue.

Iggy was a stubborn bastard who wasn't big on people making exceptions for him—his acting pissy with Laura was enough proof if the three of them hadn't known it already. She'd managed to wiggle her way into helping him somehow, but the three of them would just have to find ways to make life a little easier without him noticing. Gladio hadn't really thought about how much Iggy did for them outside his job description before Laura had lectured Noct. Maybe he'd gotten too complacent with being served.

He was gonna have to let Jared know just how much he'd appreciated it all these years when he saw him in a few days. Thinking back on it, he'd done a hell of a lot for House Amicitia that wasn't part of a chamberlain's duties, too.

Gladio crawled across his sleeping bag and collapsed face first into the fabric, not even bothering to unzip the damn thing.

The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was Iggy lying on his side facing away from him, carefully adjusting Laura's blanket so it covered her shoulder.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

A lot of what I based Ignis's lack of combat skills on was the person I watched play this game. I'm told now that person used Ignis all wrong, but he was always the first to die in our party.

I felt there really needed to be higher stakes for the boys going off to war. It's rather convenient that they mostly killed MTs, who are no longer human. Perhaps the game did this to get around a rating, perhaps to keep our heroes as squeaky-clean as possible. In this story, however, all the soldiers that look like knights (Imperial Rifleman, Imperial Sniper, etc.) will be human. This is not canon, but serves to create additional conflict and character development.


	20. Chapter 20

"I can feel you seething from up here, you know." She didn't turn around to look at him as she spoke but infused her voice with a hint of amusement. "Let it out. It'll make you feel better."

"I'm not."

He was, of course, but it would be beyond inappropriate to loose the rather fierce temper he'd always kept under a ruthless rein. Ignis feared he'd already made too clear his disapproval of her actions since learning of what Laura had done for him, but his irritation had only grown as she relayed to him the full account of everything that had happened since he'd been hit by the paradoxis. He felt helpless at having been manipulated, yet he couldn't deny that the price he had paid had served the greater good in Longwythe several years in the future. But surely, there might have been other options that didn't require the stripping of his dignity and the endangerment of their greatest asset in this war. Yet again, Laura had displayed a surprising lack of sense for a deity; they might have lost her all because of his weakness and her fallibility.

That absurd fallibility of hers might have incensed him, but at the same time, it paradoxically filled him with a fragile hope that she wasn't as unobtainable as she first appeared.

Holding his temper in check or not, it hardly mattered whether he voiced aloud his extreme displeasure. No matter how vague she claimed her passive telepathic impressions to be, she seemed to know everything he was thinking.

"So long as you understand that I accept the circumstances under protest," Ignis muttered, keeping his voice at a volume that wouldn't be overheard by enemy ears as he skimmed up the final flight of steps. He shivered a little as another gust whipped across the plains, still carrying with it the chill from the night before. What had once been a gentle breeze seemed to have grown to a prevailing wind the higher they climbed. "You might have died, and for what?"

Laura reached the top of the stairs and spun to glare down at him. "I already told you what was at stake had I not acted."

He halted two steps below her. "You have far more important duties to see to than the trivial comforts of a servant. There may have been other options."

She retreated far enough for him to step up onto the landing, and though he gained somewhat of a physical advantage in this conversation with his head now higher than hers, she still maintained her commanding regal presence by straightening and lifting her chin.

"Like what?"

"I—I don't know. Something. Anything but _that_."

"I know full-well what my duty is, thank you. Like it or not, my word to Regis involved all of you, and I saw nothing at all trivial about your situation."

Ignis clicked his teeth shut and looked away. What concerned him was that she likely would have acted just as irresponsibly whether Time had been in danger or not, but it would hardly do to speculate on what might have happened. And honestly, he'd grown weary of speaking about this. He had noticed that she'd steered well-clear of the subject of his upbringing as she reported all that had happened to him as a boy, for which he was grateful, but he was far beyond ready to change the topic to something other than himself.

Fortunately, as he turned in a slow circle and inspected his surroundings, a perfect subject presented itself.

"I must admit, I didn't— _couldn't_ believe you when you said no one was up here. Why has such a strategic location been left unmanned?"

"That's the thing. Something strange is going on here, and I was hoping to find out what it is. This is supposed to be a lookout tower, so why is no one bothering to keep a lookout?"

A sandstorm had blown through the area the day before, somewhat obscuring the horizon with a thick haze of golden dust that hadn't yet settled, but as he surveyed the area, he realized he could see nearly all of Leide's expansive territory—from the suspension towers of the bridge leading to Insomnia's south gate to the eerie statue lamenting over the ruins of Keycatrich to the mountain range that rose up like the backbone of the world to block Duscae from view. The newly-risen sun had just shaken free of the jagged horizon to tinge the cerulean sky in shades of gold and light up the layers of wispy clouds.

Had it been a clearer day, he imagined Insomnia's broken skyline would have been visible from here. He hadn't realized until their first evening on Entethina Haven how much he missed that halo lighting up the northeastern sky from nearly anywhere in Leide—a beacon that would always lead him home. That dark hole in the horizon was a reminder every evening of all that had been lost, and a part of him was grateful he wouldn't have a memory of yet another angle of her destruction here in the daylight.

Ignis was about to move to the eastern handrail to catch a better glimpse of the true focus of their journey here, but he paused. An innocuous touch here wouldn't be considered gauche, would it? Beyond checking her pulse and temperature as she lay ill the past several days, he'd only managed to accidentally brush her hand while reaching for the same Leiden pepper on the walk here. He gestured toward the rail, and once she had fallen into step beside him, he placed the very tips of his fingers between her shoulders—a polite guide. But surely, she would perceive that he wasn't a tactile man by nature and would understand his intentions with such a gesture?

The light in her eyes sparkled as she smiled up at him, almost as though she knew exactly what he was doing, but he couldn't trust what his senses were telling him. It was more likely that she found him a ridiculous, overeager child than a welcomed suitor.

His already precarious mood soured further the moment they reached the railing.

"And there it is," he growled, glaring down at the base below. "Formouth Garrison. This and many similar sites scattered around the continent were once Lucian until the Empire forced a retreat. It appears as though they've availed themselves of the additional protection."

"Mmm, I can see why Cor advised you to leave this one alone. You say the new base at the blockade had fewer forces?"

Ignis scanned the walled-in area briefly, tallying up an estimate of how many MTs were marching beneath the electric red turret that powered them. "About a tenth of what you see here."

"Yes, way too much for us to handle in our present state."

Which was precisely what concerned him. Had Laura admitted the full scope of her intentions when the two of them had left just before sunrise to "do some light foraging," he never would have agreed to this. For the past three days, he had cared for her as she slept—ensuring she ate enough nutritious meals and drank plenty of fluids. Though Gladio was clearly beginning to grow restless the longer they lingered in Leide, Ignis hadn't begrudged her the additional time to recuperate, and not simply because of the obvious reason.

The Empire's armies were vast, seemingly limitless, and even with a goddess from another world on their side, it would be Noct's responsibility to wield the Crystal's powers once they'd managed to achieve the impossible and obtain it from Niflheim's capital, where it was reported to have been taken after the Fall. As it stood, using his new Royal Arms left him reeling with exhaustion; he'd needed to sleep right alongside Laura for the entire sandstorm yesterday when he'd taken them out to practice with them in their first and only hunt.

They would surely lose this war if they marched him inexorably along to becoming King before he was ready.

Not only did Noct need to take this time to grow into his new powers, but there was still so much they all needed to learn—to become more skilled in combat, to research and understand their enemy, to come up with a plan for the five of them invading Niflheim alone. But more than that, Ignis still believed that Noct should take this opportunity to explore, to broaden his horizons, and to enjoy his life before he was shackled to the Wall as his father had been.

"This doesn't make any sense," Laura muttered. She dropped to the floor, scooted forward to dangle her feet over the side, and patted the space next to her. "Doubt anyone will notice you up there, but you should sit down, just in case."

Another particularly strong gust of wind blew across their lookout tower, and Ignis frowned down at Laura's thin white t-shirt. It occurred to him that he should have realized she'd had something in mind other than foraging when she insisted that he wear civilian clothes this morning. He'd managed to make it a mere hundred feet from the haven in his jeans and charcoal-colored t-shirt before it became clear that mornings in the desert were too chilly for his comfort. He thought Laura might have tossed him an odd look from the corner of her eye as he'd summoned his indigo hooded jacket to pull on, but he had still been too irritated with her at that point and eager to have the full recounting of the paradoxis out of the way to ask what fault she'd found with his wardrobe choice.

Ignis wasn't familiar with the comfort range of her species, but with her still recovering and the wind gusting so strongly, he thought it unwise for her to be wearing so little. He summoned one of his Crownsguard blazers to his hands, as the only other coat he had packed was his snow parka.

"Here," he said, draping the jacket over her shoulders. "You'll catch cold if you don't wear a jacket."

She smiled warmly, pulling the edges of the garment more tightly around her and breathing deeply as he folded his legs and took his place by her side. Was she breathing in his scent? No—impossible. But whether she was or not, he refused to acknowledge that some deep, hidden part of him enjoyed the sight of her drowning in his clothes.

Ridiculous—he was being ridiculous.

"What doesn't make sense?" he asked before she could thank him, or say something else that would make him blush like a fool.

She gestured down at the base. "Why do they have so many troops here? Man and Magitek roaming around in full armor . . . doing what? Why aren't more men being sent out in greater numbers to search for us? I notice those that find us are always in numbers we can handle."

"Are you suggesting that someone or something is toying with us?"

"Well, _something_ is going on. With Insomnia taken, there's no strategic advantage to keeping this base manned because no one is putting up a fight here in the outlands. The personnel would be better utilized to control the uprising in Insomnia right now. And look at it—what are they even doing? It looks like they're in a holding pattern."

Ignis tilted his head, thinking, then twisted around to see the blockade they had destroyed the other day, mere miles away. "You're right. They sent no reinforcements to the blockade when a paltry party of six managed to take it down. And what's keeping them from remanning it?"

Laura nodded. "That's exactly what I mean—everything here is for show. I don't even see any sort of command structure in place. They all appear to be common soldiers."

"Who can say how the command structure works for an army half made up of automatons? But for whose benefit is this charade? _That_ is the real question."

"Certainly not the few hundred people living in the area. They care more about survival right now than who's in charge."

Ignis stared down at his hands folded in his lap, thinking furiously for any other alternatives, but the only one he could come up with seemed implausible. "It seems too great of an effort to make for us personally, and what would be gained from such a strategy? Our false sense of confidence?"

"A test of our strength? Gathering information on us?"

"We leave none alive to tell the tale," he pointed out.

"And that itself is information, is it not?"

"True."

Why hadn't he thought of this himself? Astrals, he could tell by her tone that she wasn't ridiculing him in the slightest, but she had to believe on some level that he was as dense and green as she made him feel. Making his first kill the other day hadn't brought with it any clarity or additional sense of purpose than he'd already had. Taking life would, to him, always be a distasteful but necessary tool for exacting justice. He felt no different for having taken a life—no older, no more experienced—perhaps only slightly less innocent, but that notion hadn't unsettled him as Laura had predicted it would. He'd given away everything he was the moment he'd made his vows to the Crown.

How long would it take for him to adapt to this new world and feel settled in his own role out here? At what threshold was a man considered a man? If the traits Prompto often listed as he moaned about "hashtag adulting" were correct, Ignis had become a man at the age of six. It couldn't have been taking a life. His hands may have been stained, but what of those who'd lived out their entire lives without ever having done so? Was it losing one's virginity? He had yet to do so himself and had little interest in rushing into the project simply for the sake of getting it over with. Besides, he knew of several men and women he certainly didn't consider mature enough to be adults who'd lost theirs.

Perhaps it was when a man finally felt comfortable with his destiny. Ignis wasn't holding out hope he could accomplish such a feat.

Laura placed her arms up on the guidewire closest to her chin and rested her head between the gap. "I heard you yesterday, by the way," she said softly. "Thank you."

"I do hope I wasn't disturbing you. Before his fondness of videogames developed, Noct always preferred me to read tales of knights and heroes when he was taken ill."

"Not at all," she said, her lips twitching up into a tender smile. "I love listening to the sound of your voice. It's calming."

He chuckled, ducking his head to push his glasses further up on his nose. Was she just being kind, or was it at all possible she was displaying evidence of her affections just as subtly as he?

"Now that I know you're listening to the sound of my voice, I find that I can't think of anything to say."

This was yet another facet of his new life that made him feel as though he were a bumbling child. Ignis was uncertain how one went about courting a goddess. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have prepared a resumé and spoken to her father, which even then would have caused a stir. Most matches were arranged by the heads of the noble houses for the greatest benefit of one's family line, though there existed a few couples fortunate enough to have discovered a mutual attraction and earned their heads' approval. The couple would then attend a handful of pre-approved social activities together before negotiations for marriage began.

Even if he hadn't already received his mother's approval to court whomever he chose, Ignis was under the additional restriction that courtiers such as he required permission from the King once the relationship appeared as though it had the potential to lead to marriage. This particular practice may have been strictly ceremonial in modern times, but it was still deeply ingrained into royal protocol stretching back to the ancient era. Families whose trades were passed from parent to child, such as House Amicitia, tended to obtain approval far more easily in those days than commoners like House Scientia.

But these were far from ordinary circumstances.

Letters expressing affection, poems—how could those not be seen as childish attempts at romance to her eyes? Even if he had the funds with which to buy her gifts, what cheap trinket could he obtain from a petrol station on the side of the road to impress her? He couldn't even ask her on a date . . . unless one stretched the definition of "date" to include spying on enemy bases. A picnic beneath the stars was suitably romantic, but daemon hordes aside, the others would notice their absence.

This was merely one of several reasons why he had ignored romance in the past. He'd had far more important tasks to attend to back home than involve himself in the song and dance that went along with impressing a lady. But he wasn't without skills he could employ to please her. He would continue to make his subtle overtures so long as they continued to be happily accepted. He would prove he was capable of being solicitous by anticipating her needs, for now, and perhaps find an opportune time to court her properly once they'd reached Lestallum.

Solicitation would involve getting to know her better. With everything of his childhood experience laid between them, including its later impacts on his life, Ignis felt as though he was acquainted enough with her to ask more about her past—so long as he went about it gently.

He quietly cleared his throat. "So," he began, "you've spent much of your life traveling from universe to universe."

"Yes."

Her tone was not unkind, but its terseness gave him pause. He should proceed with caution.

"That sounds as though it could get rather lonely," he suggested, leaving the direction of the conversation open to whatever she wished to share, but he was hoping it would entice her to say more. She had suggested the night of the Fall that her period of reticence would end now that they knew of her origins, after all.

"Hmm," she said more musically, tilting her head in thought, but she didn't tear her eyes away from the scene beneath their feet. "Yes and no. It's complicated."

He wanted to respond with, 'What mortal could hope to understand the mysterious ways of the gods?' but he knew she despised it when he referred directly to her deity. Instead he said more roughly, "Is there anything that isn't with you?"

He was unexpectedly rewarded for his insolence with the glittering, tongue-touched smile he'd come to realize she only gave when she was well and truly pleased. "Not really!" she let out on a quiet laugh.

"Still, to travel from place to place as you do—few beings in all of existence could claim such an honor."

Her eyes slid to his—careful, calculating. He stiffened and waited to hear whatever had just crossed her mind.

"Perhaps you could do that someday—more than you do now, I mean."

Refusing to allow his thoughts to stray into fantasy, he kept his mind blank as he asked, "Do you mean to say you could take me with you?"

Her expression fell along with his brittle hope. "No. I'm sorry. I actually lose corporeal form when I travel . . . it's complicated. I meant here—on Eos. You've always wanted to see the world, have you not?"

"Forgive me. I'm afraid I may have allowed reality to run away with me for a moment. I have duties to see to."

The hand she placed on his shoulder was meant to be comforting, but he took no comfort in her pity. These were the facts of the life he was fortunate to have been given, and it wasn't as though he didn't truly enjoy taking care of Noct. He did, but his damned imagination kept whispering of the possibility of more in defiance of his life path. He shrugged his thoughts and her hand away, but she surprised him when she spoke again, offering not words of consolation or pity but of hope.

"Perhaps you could do both. Already, your duty will take you clear across the continent. Who knows what the future will bring?"

"Perhaps," he said noncommittally. He looked over to catch her snuggling deeper into his jacket, and the absurd sight of it warmed him from within.

But then he realized something.

His original intention in this dialogue had been to encourage _her_ to speak of herself, and yet she had somehow, without his noticing, turned the tables on him. How had she done that? With the exception of His Majesty, Ignis had always, _always_ dominated and influenced the conversation in the royal court, placing himself deep within the current of rumors that often flowed between the upper echelons of noble society to learn everything he could of everyone. But therein lay the issue—he had never attempted to wrest information from someone so clearly his superior. Somehow, his deference to Laura's position was affecting his behavior subconsciously.

Perhaps a more direct approach would yield better results.

"Could you . . . would you be willing to share some of your adventures?"

Though she didn't meet his eyes, her lips pulled wide into another euphoric smile. When she didn't begin speaking, he backtracked a little. "Though don't feel that you're obligated."

"No. I'm just . . . trying to choose which to tell you first. People are usually in the middle of a crisis when I meet them, so it isn't often anyone asks."

"Would you happen to remember your youth?" He'd wondered since she'd first told them her age what she might have been like when she was his. "Perhaps your early twenties?"

As always, she seemed to see right through his intentions when her smile turned smug and morphed into a smirk. "Let's see . . . when I was twenty-two, I was a field agent working for an organization called Torchwood. Outside the government and beyond the police, we kept track of alien life on a planet called Earth and armed the human race against the future."

"Seems an odd profession for someone of your species."

"Again, complicated. The organization didn't always have very benign goals, but when I worked there, we helped people; we saved the world."

"Not entirely different from your current goals, then."

"Well . . . at that time, I was working out of London for a top-secret project involving dimension hopping in order to save _every_ reality, including this one, but before that escalated, I was mostly handling interstellar, intertemporal, and interdimensional flotsam that washed up in Cardiff—entertaining at times, but not typically registering on the global disaster scale."

"Am I to understand that there exists a city on this planet where debris from other times and planets 'washed up'? How does such a phenomenon occur?"

"Cardiff's got this rift running through the middle of the city. It's invisible, but it's like a quake fault in between different places, times, and dimensions. It had been closed for nearly a hundred years by the time I was assigned to the hub that monitored it, but closing a rift always leaves a scar, which allows things to leak through sometimes."

"'Things.'"

"Particle guns, spaceships, people. There was this one bloke from the planet Skeer who'd heard some prophecy about himself from a dodgy fortune teller. She'd told him he was going to track down the item that would enable him to 'take the world by storm.' He located what he thought to be an 87th century Zandorian lightning gun and fell through the rift trying to get it. Well, you can imagine how his report ended up on my desk."

"I really can't, you know," he said sardonically, though he was somewhat distracted by trying to imagine her with a desk—perhaps in a dreary broom cupboard like his office back in the Citadel. "Alien incursions weren't exactly common occurrences in Insomnia. In fact, you're the first reported case in the history of Eos."

" _Reported_ , perhaps, but I'm certain I'm not the first. The general population on Earth was unaware of the existence of aliens as well, but that didn't mean they weren't bagging your haddock at the local Tesco's or raising free-range chicken in Pontypridd."

She'd lost him at this point with her alien words, but he understood the gist of her meaning. He cocked a single eyebrow in her direction—a silent request for her to continue.

"My partner Mickey and I were sent in to diffuse a hostage situation—he was holding thirty-three people with his prize, demanding to speak to the central world authority because he was in charge now. Course, it turned out he wasn't much of a threat when R&D identified the weapon as a hair dryer from Platina V."

He waited for her to say more, but she had fallen silent. When he was certain that that was the end of her story, he asked, "What happened to him? Was there a penal system in place for offenders who shouldn't exist to the general populace? A justice system? You mentioned you were outside the government's purview."

Her lips twisted into a pained grimace as though he'd struck a nerve. "Yes, and don't think that wasn't an issue at more than one point in the company's history. I did tell you about vivisections, didn't I?"

"I—forgive me. I didn't intend to drudge up—"

"No. It's all right, really. So many things in my life have dark or absurd endings, and it's impossible to tell which is which. For instance, the Skeerdian served some time, but then ended up taking the world by storm as one of the most famous hairdressers of the 21st century."

"Surely, you must be joking."

She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "His species could pass as human, so he integrated when his sentence was up. Had to admit, I never thought a bald man would make it as a hairdresser, but Garren managed it."

He shook his head in disbelief and turned back to the base. "Utterly absurd."

The mechanic and organic inhabitants of the base still appeared to be practicing some sort of drill near their Magitek generator, so he kept his eyes locked on the activity as he allowed his mind to wander.

Ignis believed he'd heard enough to understand that for all that they had suffered on this journey so far, she had probably seen true hell in her long life. And yet she didn't dwell on the horrors she had likely seen; she seemed to search for joy in the mundane—something he had struggled with since he was a child.

With that thought arrived a tenuous thread of longing. Was it possibly too much to hope that she had found joy with him?

There was some profound solution in her apparent philosophy of finding happiness in the face of adversity, one that applied well to the lives they now found themselves living. He now found himself needing to find that joy, even if he couldn't recall a time when he'd truly experienced it himself. Noct had never needed a role model in this more than he did now. Despite the fact that the reasons for this trip had changed drastically, this was still their one chance to live their lives before their burdens became too great. The road ahead was clear—teeming with the sort of adventures unknown that often skipped hand-in-hand with mortal peril. Ignis would still do his duty and remain the sensible one of their retinue, but so too would he do his best to find joy for Noct's sake.

Like sitting on this lookout tower next to this enigmatic new friend of his.

"I just occurred to me," he realized aloud, "that I never thanked you . . . for what you did."

"You're very welcome—and very worth it," she replied, but she was still staring at the base with that frown tugging the corners of her mouth down and that distracted look in her eyes. He placed a hand on her elbow, and she looked up at him.

"What is it?"

Her attention slid away from him as she worried at her lower lip. "I—something you said earlier . . . sometimes I worry that you don't understand what we're doing this for."

"Justice," he answered automatically, because it had been the word echoing in his head since he'd felt that first man's ribcage give way beneath his steel. "To take back what rightfully belongs to Noct. To see him returned to the throne. And to protect him with our lives."

"No," she gasped, horror overtaking her features. "You really think that's why I'm here? To entangle myself in human political disputes? If that were the case, then what I'm doing, choosing sides like this, would be . . . stars, so _very_ wrong. Already, I'm inching far too close to that line I've drawn for myself."

"Please. Enlighten me, then. Why are we doing this?"

"I thought you understood Noctis's place in all this. We—all five of us—have a higher calling that drives us to commit murder, and that is to save this world from darkness."

But those two goals ultimately meant the same thing, did they not? Regaining Noct's heritage meant seeing him master of the Crystal and the throne of Lucis, from which he could wield the Crystal to purge the world of darkness. He didn't understand what point she was trying to make, but the seeds of a potentially compelling argument had been planted. He would have to think more on the matter before readdressing it at a later time.

In the meantime, "We'd best be heading back. Gladio will be finished with his morning routine by the time we return, and they'll all be wanting breakfast."

That concern didn't fade from her expression as she pulled herself to her feet. He swiftly stood and offered her a hand up, but once she'd given him a nod of thanks, she turned toward the stairs, making him feel as though he'd somehow failed some invisible test. "I wanted to give you a break and started something for us between sparring with Gladio and us leaving. Come on."


	21. Chapter 21

Prompto stuck his head out of the tent flap, squinting up at the bright blue sky to locate the sun and see if he could tell what time it was just by looking. Eleven, maybe? Had Iggy felt so bad about Noct being knocked out for most of yesterday that he'd let them sleep in until _eleven_? He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone—nine-thirty-seven. Man. He was gonna have to get better at this survival stuff if he wanted to get as good as Gladio.

An eggy, spicy scent wafted on the barely-warm morning breeze—Iggy must've come up with another new recipe—but for whatever complicated and mysterious reason he always seemed to have, Iggy had instructed them to set the tent up facing away from the kitchen and campfire, so he couldn't see to check.

"Hey," Prompto called toward the pile of twisted sleeping bag in the far corner. He poked the lumpy bottom with his foot until something stirred from the depths. "I smell food!"

"Ungh," came Noct's muffled grunt, followed by what he thought might've sounded like, "fuh more mins."

"You got it, buddy." He stood and ducked his head back inside. "But ya know if Gladio decides to rip one on your face again—nothin' I can do. No way I'm takin' _that_ bullet for ya!"

As he skipped and shuffled his way around to the other side of the tent, he was surprised to see Ignis sitting at one of the camp chairs, sipping at his morning Ebony with his legs crossed like he was actually relaxing for once, but his attention was totally focused on something Prompto couldn't see from this angle—probably the camp stove.

"Morning, Ig! You didn't just wake up, did ya?"

"No, I've been awake for quite some time. Laura and I just returned from foraging." He took another sip of coffee and nodded toward the kitchen area.

Prompto leaned over to peer around the tent, almost losing his balance as he lifted his right foot off the stone. He'd known the second he'd woken up that Laura was awake, but he hadn't expected Iggy to be letting her move around and doing chores and stuff the first morning she'd left the tent. She was at the camp stove, bending to open the door to the little metal box that was somehow supposed to be an oven and looking inside. She sighed, shut the door, and looked up at him.

"Morning, Prompto! Sleep well?"

Prompto plopped into his chair and eyed one of Iggy's tables that'd been set up by the fire ring.

"Oh yeah! Like a rock," he laughed, drumming on his knees. He finished his solo as she approached the table, giving her a saucy point and a wink, but she only pursed her lips together in a smile and shook her head as she pulled something out of her . . . what had she called it? Pocket? What looked like a large wooden tray gleamed red in the sunlight as she set it on the table, but as Prompto leaned forward for a better look, he saw that the darker, intricate design on top wasn't paint but a bunch of small holes cut into the top of the wood.

"What's that thing?"

"It's a tea tray, for serving tea," she answered, summoning several small green bowls from her Pocket one by one with a whispering rush of air. "The holes allow the extra drips to fall below and collect in a reservoir beneath." On summoning the fifth bowl, she paused before setting it down and turned to Ignis. "Did you want some tea too? I know you prefer coffee."

"Please, if it isn't too much trouble. I could never turn down such an exceptional opportunity as to have tea from another universe."

She nodded and placed the little bowl down on the tray before adding a matching pitcher and tiny teapot.

"So all that stuff's for tea?" Prompto asked. "Seems like a lot."

"Yes, I'm teaching Gladio gongfu style tea brewing this morning. Some argue it's a better way to serve tea than the way you're familiar with, but I'll let you all decide for yourselves. Then for breakfast, I made French toast. It's still baking though."

"Cool! Uh, what's a French though?" Not that it mattered much. Whatever she or Iggy made was always awesome.

"It's um . . . just what it's called. You may have it here by another name, for all I know."

"So are you gonna take over for Iggy in the kitchen now?"

Laura looked up at Ignis, and they both frowned at each other for a second. "No, I don't think so," she answered, her eyes still not leaving Ignis's penetrating stare. "I wouldn't dream of stepping on Ignis's toes." She broke eye contact with Ignis to continue, "I can cook just fine, but I think one or two of you would die without eating meat. Think I'll just stick to prep work for now, but maybe I'll cook for you all again one of these days."

"Sup, guys," Gladio grunted as he flopped into his chair next to Prompto, sweat dripping off his forehead and onto his workout pants. He sat up a little when he spotted the tray next to him. "Tea this morning? All right," he said with a grin.

"How was the rest of your workout, Princess?" Laura asked. She reached out to poke a finger to his chest, but then seemed to think better of it when she saw the sheen covering his pecs. Seriously, Prompto didn't understand how the guy could get so _big_ while Prompto was all lean muscle no matter what. It didn't seem to matter that Prompto worked out too—okay, maybe not as much as Gladio, but not everyone could make working out the center of their whole life like he did, either.

Gladio shook his head. "Shoulda sparred with you the last ten minutes and not the first. Was worn out the rest of my routine."

"Couldn't have done that, I'm afraid. Ignis and I went foraging; then we set all this up. Maybe when my sleep schedule's recovered."

"How much sleep do you normally require?" Ignis asked.

Laura paused and tilted her head. "It depends on the universe. Here, when I'm not recovering from something, an hour or two a night, but I can sleep more or less as needed to keep up appearances. You'd be surprised at the weird things I have to do to keep up with customs or blend in."

" _That's_ why you were always up in the middle of the night," Gladio said. "Gotta tell ya, that was kinda creepy."

"I figured it was best you guys get used to it from the beginning," she said with a half-shrug, "and _someone_ ought to have been keeping a lookout."

Prompto didn't really want to think about the reasons why a lookout might've been necessary as they slept every night in what was supposed to be considered a safe area, but he _was_ wondering about the other thing. What could be so weird about how they lived every day?

"What's the weirdest thing you have to do to blend in here?" Prompto asked.

"Temperature reactions, definitely. I'm always having to remind myself to sweat when we're in town so people don't notice I'm not. It's unpleasant, smelly, and it makes me thirsty."

"Ech," Prompto grimaced. "That's kinda gross."

"Yeah, that's a weird one," Gladio said.

As Laura turned toward the kitchen area to pull a foil-covered pan out of the oven, Iggy asked, "How is it that your physiology compensates for overheating if not by sweating?"

"Not only is my internal temperature lower than yours, I can regulate my metabolism and even suppress my hypothalamus while maintaining a thermal exchange directly on the skin."

"Hmm, I supposed that could work if you were releasing excess heat produced by bodily functions. Is that how you maintain an average human skin temperature when your internal temperature is lower?"

The scientific conversation continued back and forth, growing in speed and intensity like the last boss fight he and Noct had stayed up all night to tackle before they'd packed up his apartment, but those two had pretty much lost Prompto as soon as they'd started. They were having . . . fun? He guessed? Was this kinda thing fun for people? He tossed Gladio a doubtful side-eye to see him sitting reclined in his chair, his arms crossed over his bare chest and a smirk spreading over his face.

"Divinity or not—" Iggy argued, leaning forward and uncrossing his legs. His pointer finger tapped agitatedly at the handle of his coffee mug resting on his knee. "—no being can inhabit a physical body on the mortal plane that completely disregards the basic laws of thermodynamics."

Gladio raised an eyebrow over at Prompto, who shrugged. "Dude," Prompto whispered, "d'you even know what they're talking about?"

"Not really. Stuff from Eleventh Year Science. But it doesn't really matter what they're saying."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Gladio grunted out on a chuckle. "Think they call _this_ 'intellectual intercourse.'"

Prompto looked between Iggy and Laura, watching their expressions as they continued to argue. Did Gladio seriously think _this_ was flirting? If a girl tried talking to Prompto like this, the _last_ thing in the world he'd expect it to lead to would be a date. Iggy actually looked a little angry—frowning across the haven at Laura, who was flitting from side to side placing thick slices of what looked like Crown toast on five plates. With a final irritated sigh, Iggy stood to help Laura carry the plates to the fire ring.

"This mean I get to wake His Highness up again?" Gladio asked with a mischievous grin, already leaning forward to stand from his chair.

"No," Noct snapped. He appeared from around the tent corner and fell into his chair with a sigh. "I'm up."

"Damn. I had a good one lined up for ya this morning, too. Your loss."

Once Laura and Iggy had served them all the sweet, syrupy Crown toast, Laura started on the tea, pouring the steaming hot, black liquid into the little green bowls, which turned out to be cups with tiny fish figurines swimming at the bottom. It was actually kinda funny watching Gladio, no-nonsense Shield to the King of Lucis, freaking out over them, running his fingers over their long fins with a little smile on his face each time he emptied his cup. Prompto guessed it was kinda cool that they were three-dimensional and not just painted on the bottom, but seriously—he didn't see what the big deal was. She showed them how to brew the tea in the tiny teapot that looked way too small to serve them all—letting the boiling water splash over the leaved in the pot, allowing it to sit for a few seconds, then pouring the liquid in a straight line back and forth across the cups.

Iggy was the first to take a sip, but he surprised Prompto by slurping it from the cup with a soft sucking sound. Prompto spit his own tea back into the cup and gaped at him.

"What happened to those famous table manners of yours, Iggy?" Prompto teased.

Iggy looked coolly over at him and tilted his head so his eyes met Prompto's over the rim of his glasses. "Aerating the liquid allows the aromas to release over the palate and intensify the flavor. Hardly appropriate at a dinner party, but acceptable in familiar company in this context." As Laura took her seat next to him, he added, "This is remarkable. And you're certain there are no artificial flavors?"

"None. Just leaf and water."

He took another slurping sip and narrowed his eyes. "I'm detecting spicy vanilla, honey, Hulldagh cinnamon, and sweet autumn leaves"

"I dunno bout all that, but it's pretty good stuff," Gladio said. He drained the tiny cup in a single mouthful and held it out for a refill. "Think I like it better than the gyokuro. What is it?"

"It's a white tea called shou mei, pressed into cakes and aged for ten years before I put it away."

All this pomp and circumstance wasn't really Prompto's thing, but the tea was good—tasted like tea, anyway, and the Crown toast was better—sweet and spicy and warm. And Gladio was finally in a good mood after sulking around the last few days. It was no secret why. That was all Prompto's fault, but he couldn't find it in himself to be too upset about it with Noct on his side.

"So! We leaving to see the chocobos today?!" he asked, jiggling impatiently in his seat.

"After breakfast," Ignis said.

"Whoo! Hear that, Noct?"

"Yeah."

It took just about everything Prompto had not to swallow the rest of his breakfast whole, leap out of his chair, and start packing up the haven, even if Noct hadn't woken up enough to be excited with him yet. For once—they didn't have any killing on the agenda today! He'd get to bond with his very own chocobo, whose name and color he'd picked out when he was eight years old. And to be honest, he was impatient to put Leide in the rearview mirror for a while. There was just too much brown, too much death, too many bad memories—like the place was cursed or something.

Leide would always remind him of leaving Insomnia, of watching the skyline burn from that cliff top, of seeing little Iggy all ripped up like that while Noct haunted that bunk bed.

But Prompto was feeling pretty good that Duscae was gonna turn their luck around.

* * *

"I can't believe Wiz didn't even have any outside to _look_ at!" Prompto complained, kicking a rock further up the muddy trail they were following to gods only knew where. "Could it get any worse?"

"They could've all been eaten," Noct pointed out.

"Dude! You shouldn't even _say_ stuff like that!"

Gladio raised both hands to his forehead, pushing back the dark wet bangs plastered to his face. He shot Prompto a calculating look before reaching out to shove him off the path. "Just means we gotta take care of this Deadeye monster before it picks off the rest of the herd."

"It isn't only the chocobos' safety at stake," Ignis added. "Camilla informed Laura that none of the Hunters sent after the beast have returned."

"Um . . . who's Camilla?" Prompto asked.

"One of the handlers," Laura said. "Chatted a bit while you lot were getting the keys to the caravan."

"Oh."

He trudged down the path, his boots sticking in the thick mud with every step, but that didn't stop him from throwing a kick at every rock and stick they passed. But when he noticed that no one had spoken in almost half an hour, he decided he wasn't gonna let the freezing dripping rain get him down. He quit dragging his feet and jogged to catch up with Laura and Noct ahead of him.

"So! How ya liking this new scenery?"

Ignis crossed his arms and rubbed roughly at his biceps, grimacing. He kept his head ducked and his eyes locked on the trail ahead as he had all morning, but he muttered in Prompto's direction, "This rain certainly puts a damper on things."

"Yeah," Noct agreed, reaching up to push his soggy bangs off his face. "Kinda sucks."

Laura looked over at him, her expression glittering with excitement, but she looked kinda like a drowned cat with the loose tendrils of her hair dripping onto her jacket. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I adore the forest. It feels like home. Can you feel the trees breathing each time the wind stirs? Listen."

Prompto closed his eyes and cocked his head to do what she said. She was always hearing things he couldn't, and he thought it was gonna be another one of those times when all he could hear was the thwack and squelch of their boots hitting and pulling out of the thick mud over the constant splatter of raindrops on the leaves and his vest. Damn it—he really hated getting wet, and he'd forgotten to pack anything heavier than his sleeveless stuff. Luckily, he didn't get cold as easily as Iggy, but he sure was freezing now.

Just as he shivered and danced a little from foot to foot to try and get warmer, the wind whipped through the tops of the trees again.

"Ugh," Noct complained. Prompto wanted to join in, but he just couldn't with Laura looking at him with that hopeful, expectant expression.

Oh yeah, he was supposed to be doing something. He held his breath and listened.

He'd never heard the trees breathing, even in the park where he used to take pet photos back home. But as the gust reached its peak and began to die off, he _could_ hear it—the whispery roar that sounded almost exactly like Laura's magic. With a lively smile, she pointed to the canopy. Prompto threw a hand up to shield his eyes from the rain and looked up.

"Mmm, I see what you mean," Iggy murmured at the gently swaying tree trunks. "It incites the fantasy that the forest is a single, living entity."

"Yes," Laura agreed. "I just wish we didn't have to start our time here with killing something."

"Yeahhh," Prompto said, drawing the word out with a grimace.

It'd been over three weeks since Prompto had made his first kill—shooting a sabertusk right through the eyes and watching with a sort of sick, fascinated horror as its corpse slid to a stop at his feet. He'd gotten used to hunting, even if he'd never actually like the part where their quarry died, but he would always prefer having pets. But Laura . . . she hadn't budged at all on her 'personal philosophy,' and Iggy and Gladio especially were getting a little impatient with her refusal. Even Prompto didn't really understand it. It wasn't like he didn't love animals too—a lot—but he managed to suck it up and do it anyway. What were they supposed to do when something came running at them, or something like Deadeye was causing problems?

"So what would you do if a monster was killing your chocobos?" he asked.

Laura looked away and frowned. "It's just not something that would've happened. We would have protected them from being eaten with spells, perhaps relocated them. It just depends, really. If this Deadeye were sentient enough, we would've established a telepathic connection and attempted to persuade him to leave."

"So . . . basically you're saying you'd cheat," Noct muttered.

"Yeah!" Prompto added. "I mean, it's not like we can um . . . connect brains with Deadeye."

"It's part of the reason why I don't stop you from hunting him, or any other animal. You don't have the skills my people had, and even I don't have those skills on this world. I've tried several times to connect with the wildlife here, but their minds are too feral, too mad for me to connect to—except for that anak you and I saw, Ignis."

Ignis stepped lightly over a branch in the path and looked up through his lashes to fix Laura with a humorless stare. "So you had determined telepathically that it was partially domesticated? That would've been good to know."

"Ha! You'd only just learned I wasn't an Insomnian noblewoman five minutes before that. Can you imagine that conversation? 'Hey, Ignis, I can feel that girafalope over there talking in my head. Let's go say hi!'"

Ignis used a single finger to push his glasses up onto his nose, and it was only with that gesture that Prompto noticed his glasses were completely rain-free. How in Ifrit's inferno did he always manage to keep himself so _clean_? "Well, you wouldn't have had to word it quite like _that_."

"Still doesn't explain why you won't hunt them with us," Noct said.

"Or why you don't have issues killing people," Gladio added.

Prompto winced at Gladio's words. No matter how many jokes he made about busting bases and no matter how hard he tried to exorcise his daemons, that night had been haunting his every footstep like a horde of zombies since it'd happened three days ago. Seven soldiers' lives had ended because of him. Did they have kids? Were they like him—participating in this war because they felt they had to? Could they have been relatives of his? He found no mercy in the fact that he hadn't seen their faces beneath their helms; he could still see their bodies falling to the concrete beneath his shots every time he closed his eyes.

But it didn't matter, did it? Prompto had made his choice the night of the Fall when he decided to stick by Noct's side no matter what. Really, he'd made his decision when he'd taken that first shot in his first hunt. No matter where he'd been born, Prompto was Lucian, and Noct was his best friend in the whole world. The people in that base were attacking his home, threatening Noct's subjects. Just as Prompto, those soldiers had made the choice that put them on opposite sides.

He only hoped the others would see it that way if they ever found out about him. He guessed it kinda made him a traitor to both sides now.

How could Laura, with all her weird and complicated beliefs on life, manage to kill a human when she refused to step in to kill an animal until her friends were at death's door? How could she live with taking the lives of people with families and dreams? Maybe she had the answers to how he was supposed to live with it.

Laura's expression twisted. "It's personal. Well . . . no. It's to do with my species. Ignis had no idea how right he was when he called me dichotomous. My species has always been at peace with non-sentients—more than peace, really. We depended on them and they on us—a symbiosis, and so it has always pained us to kill them.

"Humans, however, when they first encountered our peaceful civilization, they nearly decimated us, and for centuries they hunted us down—until we developed a very unique partnership with another species and turned the tables. As a result, there are several . . . _enhancements_ in our evolutionary history that allow us to both blend in and kill them with greater ease."

At the word "enhancements," Laura's face totally morphed to become dark and snarling. He couldn't help the shiver that slithered down his spine—not due to the freezing rain at all. So, she'd probably been a human hunter or something thousands of years ago—at least, he _hoped_ it'd been thousands of years ago.

It was only too easy to forget that she wasn't just another girl until weird little things like this popped up. But after seeing how she was colder and even more ruthless in a battle than Iggy and Gladio, he could easily imagine himself lying on his back with the tip of one of her fancy swords at his throat. She must've really seen some messed up shit in her life to make her look that way if she thought too hard about it. Hell, _him_ thinking about it made him want to take a step away from her. Was that what would happen to him when this was all over? Would he just have to put on a thicker mask to hide the even bigger disaster he would become inside?

He'd made his choice.

Laura took a deep breath and let it out slowly on a sigh. "Sorry. It's just complicated. War and sanctity of life were delicate subjects among my people. We seemed to navigate both with equal skill."

They'd probably both feel better if he changed the subject. "So what about Deadeye? Are you gonna try and contact him?"

"I'll always keep trying. I had this friend once—seemed to have the power of words. Never carried a weapon, just talked his way out of wars and angry tyrants wanting his head under a guillotine and mythical beasts wanting to rip apart whatever unfortunate rock he happened to be standing on at the time. But stars, as much as I loved him, I was so naïve back then. Death followed him everywhere, as it seems to for me. But it doesn't stop me from trying to reach that ideal I had of him—the man who never kills, the man who could solve any problem without a weapon."

"Doesn't seem possible in the real world," Gladio grumbled.

"No, it doesn't, does it? Even now, I'm either wiping out squadrons of soldiers or doing the same thing he did—stepping back and letting you do the work. I did tell you all I was far from perfect. You all are far braver and more dedicated to your principles than I could ever be."

"You got principles." Prompto said, butting her shoulder with his and winking over at her—just to get her to smile a little. "They're just different than ours."

"And this is our fight, not yours," Noct said.

"Yeah," Prompto agreed, because even with her explanation that crazy night after the invasion, he still didn't really get why she was hanging out with them in this freezing wet hellhole. "Think I get it though, maybe? I love animals, too. I wasn't trained in the Crownsguard like these guys, not really—just took enough to know self-defense. But the thing is? I wasn't really made for all this combat stuff."

When Laura's expression softened, he couldn't help but grin at being the one responsible for wiping that dark look off her face. "Yes, I can see that you have a great capacity for love," she said.

"And combat wise, you're doin' just fine, kid," Gladio added, reaching out to ruffle his hair, but he ducked in time to miss his hand. Not that it mattered, really. He was gonna have to wash it and restart his 'do when they got back to the camper, even if it was holding up better than everyone else's.

"Really?!" he asked in disbelief. "You think I'm holdin' my own?"

"Indeed, you have," Iggy said, but when Prompto shot him a bug-eyed look, he added, "Believe me; no one was as astonished as I."

"Told ya you've been doin' good, Prompto," Noct chuckled, shaking his head.

"Yeah, but—"

He'd been best friends with Noct through all of secondary school, but he always figured he'd be left behind while Noct went off on his grand royal adventure one day. Because it made sense—of course Iggy and Gladio would go with him because they were amazing, but him? He was nothing special—just a regular kid. He hadn't quite believed it when Noct had told him he could go on the Bonding of Souls tour one day, but things had really gotten real when King Regis had said it would be okay if he came along for this trip. Prompto was already working on combat, but he'd really had to up his game then, often staying up all night practicing his self-defense moves so he could pass and get his Crownsguard fatigues. And after morning sparring, then classes all day, he'd scoot on over to the shooting range to get some practice in before flopping into bed and starting all over again.

The tiny little improvements here and there were crazy frustrating. Those days reminded him of when he was losing weight, where he'd work so hard all week and not even lose a quarter of a pound. But even though he hated hand-to-hand combat more than Noct hated vegetables, he'd kept at it and scraped by enough to pass. And then _he—_ adopted Niflian pleb—got to stand in front of the King on those steps in front of the throne next to Noct, Gladio, and Ignis. Had it been real life instead of an episode of Prompto Argentum: This Is Your Life, he'd never even be allowed to be seen with those three, let alone be granted an audience with the King himself. It had been the best day of his life up until this moment, with all of them actually saying he was doing a good job keeping up with them.

But the praise fell flat because he knew something they didn't: he didn't deserve it because he was still a fake. They still didn't know who he really was.

"Wow, you guys. Just . . . thanks," he said with a chuckle and a bounce on his toes, because that was the kinda stuff that kept the mood light.

But of course, he ended up proving them all wrong in the fight against Deadeye when they finally tracked it down. He wasn't the kinda fighter that got in close like the other three; he liked to hang back and take shots from farther away so he could see the whole field; prevent friendly fire; and keep far, far away from the claws and teeth longer than his entire body. Watching Noct, Gladio, and Iggy dodge and leap out of the way, he had to say he was pretty glad he wasn't standing feet away from the ridiculously massive devil dog like they were.

"Prompto! First shot!" Noct called out.

Noct waited until his bullet had hit the monster in the left shoulder with an exploding boom before he went berserk, jumping in the air and warp-striking over and over with his favorite engine blade that Cid had just upgraded. Then he'd warp up to a safe point to recharge and start all over again. Noct using magic was a side of his friend that he'd never gotten to see in school, and it was still amazing to see the guy that used to stand next to him at the arcade and cheer him on or melt into the couch cushions stuffing handfuls of popcorn into his face now summoning the ancient, mythical weapons of the Old Kings. Prompto still sometimes forgot he had access to the Crystal's powers until he would suddenly need his gun in his hand.

"Hell, yeah, get ya some of this!" he shouted in triumph when a really good shot landed on the beast's neck. He shuffled off to the side to keep his distance as the dog leapt in his direction, catapulting itself higher than twice Prompto's height and landing only feet away with a ground-shuddering thud.

Iggy'd told them that Deadeye would be most vulnerable to greatswords and shields, so Noct mostly called on Gladio for help while Prompto and Iggy tossed every fire spell in the armiger between using their signature weapons.

Prompto paused in taking his shots for a moment to watch Iggy work. Now that Prompto had heard Gladio's and Noct's critique of Iggy's fighting, he thought he could maybe kinda see it. Iggy was cracking curatives like an addict, taking them almost three times as much as the rest of them while he rushed between attacking Deadeye and protecting Noct. How could the guy stand getting clawed like that so many times and still keep going?

Prompto had just ducked behind a barrel and was poking his head around to take aim at the dog's good eye when it stretched its claws deep into the mud. It whirled suddenly, whipping its tail across where the other three were standing, and leapt in his direction, its massive fangs glistening in the weak sun just beginning to poke through the dark clouds. He had just enough time to see Noct drawing his hand back before he had to take cover and ready his guns.

"NOOOOCT!" Prompto screamed out to let him know he was there.

Shit, he was such an idiot. He shouldn't've been in the way.

"PROMPTO!"

He didn't have time to move. The flask hit the barrel, which for some psychotic reason must've been filled with fuel, judging by the explosion that he swore had deafened him. For a second, all Prompto could think about was how he was gonna die as a cloud of gas fumes forced its way down his nose and throat, choking him.

Oh, sweet Six. He was gonna die. He wasn't ready to die.

The explosion softened to a roaring that filled his ringing ears, but when pain or the darkness of death didn't come, he opened his eyes to find himself hunched over the blackened curled remnants of the exploded barrel, surrounded by a billowing wall of orange, red, and black fire.

He couldn't move—couldn't breathe, but somewhere in the distance, he could hear someone screaming his name again.

This must've been like when Noct was inside the fire. He kept waiting for excruciating pain or death to come, but the fireball passed over him like a gust of wind. The flames even tickled at his skin as they dissipated in the same way the Galdin breeze would feather against the hairs on his bare arms.

Actually, it was the first time since stepping out of the car this afternoon he'd felt warm.

When his vision finally cleared like waking from a surreal dream, he stumbled and fell hard on his ass. Deadeye was _right fucking there_ in front of him, his head thrown back and his massive jaw wide open. He let loose a raw, feral scream.

Prompto couldn't stop himself from opening his mouth and screaming right along with it.

When the monster had emptied its lungs, it dropped to the mud with a painful, bone-crushing splat. It gave a final long groan Prompto could barely hear over his howl before it went still and quiet.

* * *

Sticky wet mud had given way to the crunchy gravel drive of Wiz's Chocobo Post, and Gladio was _still_ pausing now and then to shake his head and chuckle under his breath. Prompto was one-hundred percent sure he knew what had amused him so much, but it wasn't funny. If Noct hadn't learned that magic technique from Laura, Prompto would've been more fried than an overdone chickatrice finger at Rei's.

And contrary to how he'd been living these past few weeks, Prompto didn't want to die. The very concept of it terrified him more than anything in the world.

"Aww, come on, what?!" he demanded when Gladio shot him another smirk.

"Seriously, man, you sounded worse than my sister."

This kinda stuff always made him feel _terrible_ , but he didn't wanna be the one responsible for killing the mood. He might not've been feeling it, but he laughed anyway. "Oooh, burn!"

Iggy raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, a smirk of his own twitching the corner of his lips up. "Well, if you can't stand the heat . . .."

An arm settled around his shoulder, and he was about to push it off before he realized it was Laura giving him a sympathetic look. "I'd be screaming bloody murder if it'd happened to me."

He gave her a little smile in return, but her words didn't really comfort him much. God or not, she was still a girl. He was supposed to be a man.

It wasn't until they'd hiked to where they'd parked the Regalia and the smell of animal dung and feed wafted up his nose on the cool, wet breeze that he remembered what they'd come here for.

"Wait . . . CHOCOBOS! We totally get to see the chocobos now, right?"

Ignis's eyebrows furrowed as they passed by the car, his head turning to keep his eyes locked on it. "We should take this opportunity to get cleaned up, and perhaps clean the Regalia's interior of all the dust and sand, before spending the rest of the day in leisure."

"Oooh yeah, hot showers! Then we can buy t-shirts and take pictures with our new chocobos! But do we _have_ to do the car _today_?"

"We gotta take care of the old girl," Noct said, skimming his hand along the edge of the hood and leaving finger trails in the moist layer of grime from the dust and rain, "but yeah, let's clean the car tomorrow, Specs. Please?"

"Yeah! Aren't you excited to get one, Iggy?" Prompto added, spinning to face him so he could skip backwards and shake his fists a little.

Iggy might have chillaxed some over these past few weeks, but he was still way too uptight in Prompto's opinion. Ever since Prompto had convinced Noct to stop at the chocobo post on their way to Lestallum, Prompto had gotten the theme song to Charlie the Chocobo stuck in his head, and it hadn't escaped his notice that Iggy would groan under his breath every time Prompto hummed it out loud. Iggy probably didn't even like animals—they were probably too messy or whatever for him—but that didn't mean Prompto, Noct, and even Laura weren't excited to be here.

"Of course I am. But we would enjoy ourselves far more with our obligations handled beforehand." When Noct turned around to back Prompto up and fix Iggy with a wide-eyed, pleading look, he sighed. "I suppose we could put it off one more day."

"YES!"

"Too soft," Gladio muttered.

Those bright yellow umbrellas were calling them—Prompto _knew_ Wiz would be waiting to hear he could let the flock out of the barn. He took several more hopping steps forward, but a heavy slap on his shoulder stopped him.

"Hold up," Noct said to him. His eyes flicked to the others. "You guys go on ahead. I gotta talk to Prompto for a sec."

"Gonna cost you all the hot water," Gladio warned.

"No it won't, cause you're gonna save us some."

"No promises."

Prompto watched the other three continue on toward the camper with a frown. No way was the hot water gonna last for all five of them, especially with as long as Gladio took in the shower. It was why they usually spaced the shower times out a couple of hours or even overnight whenever they stayed in a camper. And Six, as cold as he'd been all day, he definitely needed the water scalding.

But when his attention shifted to Noct, another problem reared up in his head. Noct wasn't even looking at him, fixing his eyes on a tree trunk just to his left instead. The fight with Deadeye—this was it. He'd made a stupid rookie mistake, and now Noct was gonna tell him that he would either have to shape up or go back h—well, go _somewhere_ , anyway.

"Hey, you okay?" Noct mumbled, shifting from foot to foot. "M'sorry about earlier."

Was Noct _worried_ about him? Prompto chuckled and shoved at his shoulder. "Heh, heh. Yeah. No sweat." He made the motion of swiping his forehead with his hand and reached out to wipe it on Noct's jacket. "Shouldn't've been in the way."

Noct shuffled to the side several steps to avoid Prompto's hand but grinned at him.

Good. At least he'd accomplished _something_ today.

"So we're cool then?" Noct asked.

"Oh ho yeah," he laughed. "Totally chill, dude."

His grin relaxed into a lopsided smile. "Good. Think if we hurry, we can cut in line for the shower?"

Prompto didn't wait to answer. He had already bounded several strides toward the camper before he called over his shoulder, "Race ya!"

* * *

Noct was still messing with the spikes on the back of his head when Prompto stepped out of the camper. He leaped off the top step and stared up at the sky, scowling a little at the orange sun hovering way too low on the horizon. Five-thirty? Six o'clock? It didn't matter.

"This light's totally wrong for pictures," he complained.

Laura stepped up next to him and linked their elbows. "Hey! At least we have time to see them. Souvenir shop's closed, anyway. We can do pictures tomorrow."

"How long're we staying tomorrow?"

"All day," Gladio grumbled.

"Seriously?"

"Wiz's got some stuff for us to do. And I wanna race," Noct said with a smug grin. "Maybe even just hang around a little."

"Hanging out," Prompto sighed wistfully. "I remember those days." But a flash of yellow around the corner of the building drew his attention. Was that . . .? "OH EM GEE! Look!" He pointed frantically to the most adorable chocobo he'd ever laid eyes on being led to the posts out in the front yard. Flapping his arms and leaping up and down, he veered to Gladio's side to push at his shoulder. "Do you SEE it?!"

"Yeah, he's pretty darn cute."

"Oh . . . my . . . god . . .," Laura gasped between giggles. " _That's_ a chocobo? They're _chickens_. Giant, ridable _chickens_."

"Uhh . . . sure," Prompto said. "What's a chicken again?" But she must not've heard him because she was already dancing forward, reaching out to stroke the chocobo's beak while she chatted with the handler.

Prompto rushed forward to bury his fingers deep into the bird's neck feathers, but it jerked its head back roughly before he could approach.

"Whoa, there," the handler warned, reaching up to get a better hold on the chocobo's halter as it skittered away. "Not so fast."

Prompto retreated several steps and rubbed at his neck. "Sorry. Is that the only one available for rent?"

She shook her head. "Got a few yellows I'll be leading out for short-term rentals, but it'll be awhile before I get 'em all tacked up."

Ignis drew closer to the chocobo and laid a hand on its neck to slowly stroke the bright feathers. "Pardon us, but might you have any long-term rentals available?"

"Bonding birds? Oh yeah, they're in the stalls around back."

"Well? Come on, then!" Prompto exclaimed, bouncing toward the sidewalk that would lead them to where she was pointing. "What're we waitin' for?"

The stable attached to the back of the building was just how Prompto had always pictured a stable—wooden boards worn by time, but oiled, shiny, and almost clean enough that Iggy would approve. He skipped through the open doorway and immediately froze when what looked like a hundred birds poked their heads over the stall doors to stare at him curiously. He took a deep breath—gysahl greens, chocobo dung, and freshly-laid straw. No Glacierday morning cartoon had ever come close to even describing the scent.

"Chocobos," he whispered under his breath. "I can't believe it."

"Yeah," Noct agreed in a soft voice.

After all the years they'd spent watching Charlie the Chocobo on the weekends, playing chocobo racing games, and dreaming up what kind of chocobos they'd have someday, he'd never expected to be standing here about to pick one to bond with. He'd decided years ago he wanted a bright yellow one named Sunny. It was now down to a matter of choosing. But how should he pick? Boy or girl? Big or small? Would it be the one three stalls down beaking at its neighbor, or maybe the one two more stalls over with its beak stuffed in a food bucket?

"So we just . . . pick one?" Noct asked, and Prompto looked over to see Wiz leaning against the open doorjamb, scratching at his short gray beard and holding several different-colored ropes in his free hand. Like the stable, Wiz's heavy denim work shirt, brown vest, and bright yellow kerchief appeared old and worn, but really clean, considering he worked with animals all day.

"Yeah, pick the one that speaks to ya," Wiz answered, gesturing to the long aisle with a thick, almost leathery hand. "Comes with a whistle and tack. An' fer you boys, I'll waive the initial fee. Price's only fifty gil a day—a real bargain. Tell yeh what—won't even charge yeh extra if yeh let the rental expire, neither. Least I kin do."

"You have our thanks," Iggy said with a little bow.

Laura suddenly bounced up to Prompto's side and grabbed his arm, her lips pulled wide in a smile and her eyes glittering with excitement. He couldn't remember ever seeing her this . . . hyper before.

"I can feel them!" she whispered, tugging harder at his arm and pointing to her head.

"Really? Cause they're pets, you think?"

"I think so."

"What a curious sensation that must be," Iggy said thoughtfully.

"Yeah! So you can like . . . what? Talk to them in their heads?"

Her expression fell a little. "Not like I could elsewhere, no, but enough to get a sense of their identities. How can I choose just one when they're all so special?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Prompto replied, scratching at the back of his neck. He hadn't expected picking to be so hard. Wiz had a lot of yellow chocobos, and they all looked so pretty, so bright, so friendly.

The five of them grew further and further apart as each person searched for the one chocobo that would teleport to their side anywhere in Lucis if they whistled for them. The longer Prompto strolled down the aisle—passing by yellow, white, red, blue, purple, and even a black chocobo—the more stressed he became about his decision. How could he be expected to choose just one?

Prompto watched from several stalls away as Iggy became the first to choose his chocobo. He seemed to be immediately charmed by a spunky white hen and, after going inside her stall and looking her over carefully as she walked, named her Calima.

"Where'd you come up with that?" Prompto asked as Wiz clipped one of the ropes to Calima's halter.

"It's the name of a white lily that grows wild in the Kettier Highlands," he answered simply.

Gladio found his chocobo about fifteen minutes later—not too surprisingly, it was the largest one Wiz had—an enormous royal blue male.

"Dude," Prompto whispered when Wiz handed Gladio the lead and his whistle, "how'd you pick that one?"

"Who else is gonna carry all _this_ everywhere we're goin', eh, Kaze?" Gladio asked the strutting bird as he ran a hand from his pecs to his abs.

"Kaze . . . an interesting word," Iggy noted.

"What's it mean?" Prompto asked.

Gladio shrugged. "Dunno. Made it up. Sounds . . . right."

"Mmm." Iggy nodded and frowned over at Prompto. "Do be certain that you choose an animal capable of making the trek across all of Lucis. You must select a chocobo with proper conformation: strong, straight legs; thick-skinned feet; and a lighter frame with a higher surface-area-to-body-mass ratio. I recommend you choose a bird and go into its stall to walk it and test its gait. Run your hands down its legs. Test its joints for free movement."

"Uh . . . yeah. I'll do that. Thanks, Iggy." He turned to the little male he was considering. It seemed nice enough as it leaned its head down to accept a couple of pats on the beak, but he only tolerated a second more of petting before he buried his beak in his food bucket.

"It's an important decision not to be made on a whim; you can't simply wing it," Iggy continued. Prompto looked back to see his lips twitching in amusement. "After all, a broken-down bird will certainly put us all in a foul mood, especially whichever unfortunate creature you choose."

"Seriously, Iggy?" Gladio snorted. "That was painful. What's gotten into you today, man?"

Iggy only cocked his head, arched an eyebrow, and continued to meander up the aisle with Calima following next to him on her lead rope.

Wiz laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer. "Yeah, don' listen to 'im," he said softly. "All mah birds are in fine shape. Take yeh anywhere."

"Uh, heh heh. Yeah, I bet."

He kinda wished he hadn't asked anyone for advice, because now there were even more factors he had to consider. He'd never hear the end of it from Iggy if his chocobo refused to move in the middle of nowhere while they were being attacked by hordes of garulas or something. He could picture it now—Iggy on his knees in the mud holding Sunny's foot in his lap lecturing Prompto about why on Eos he would choose a chocobo with such tiny, thin-skinned feet.

When he heard the slap and click of chocobo feet on the concrete behind him, he turned away from Wiz to see Noct coming down the aisle, a black lead wrapped around his left hand that attached to a dancing crimson bird. He must've chosen before Gladio when Prompto wasn't paying attention—which left only him and Laura without a mount.

"After all these years," Prompto said, slowly reaching up to stroke the bird's shining, soft neck feathers, "that's Byrrus? How'd you decide?"

Noct shrugged. "He was the only crimson one they had. He's really nice, though."

"Yeah, the red ones're pretty rare," Wiz cut in in that deep, gravelly voice that reminded Prompto of the grainy brown soil in the yard outside. "Xelphatol pears've mostly died out in this area, and momma's either gotta be red herself, or she's gotta eat one just before she mates."

"Hey though, that's awesome! You want first race tomorrow?"

A slow, sly, grin spread over Noct's face. "You're on, but you gotta pick one first."

But like with everyone else's advice, Noct's strategy for picking wasn't gonna help him out much. At least Laura was still looking at all the birds—talking to them, stroking their cheek feathers, and smiling—taking her time. It made him feel like he wasn't holding everyone up, at least. It felt like he was always holding everyone up or holding them back. He leaned against one of the stall doors, watching her flit from bird to bird and wondering what method she was using to choose.

A slight whoosh of breath tickling at his cheek and across his ear was the only warning he got before something nudged into the side of his head.

"Ehh!" he squeaked in surprise. He glimpsed in Laura's direction to make sure she hadn't heard his voice go all high and stupid like that, but the weight settling on his other shoulder drew his attention back to his first problem.

He went still.

Slowly, so he didn't disturb what he hoped was a chocobo standing behind him, he slid his eyes to his right shoulder, but all he could see was a wall of tiny, honey-colored feathers. A little yellow chocobo had shuffled to the front of its stall to rest its head on his shoulder! She had to be a hen with that sweet expression in those large black eyes.

"Sunny?" he whispered hopefully.

The bird gave a soft coo, and its cheek feathers puffed out around its bright orange beak. Prompto carefully reached up and scratched lightly beneath them, and her eyes pinned before falling closed in delight.

This was it—the chocobo he'd been looking for. He could _feel_ it.

Prompto pulled out his camera, held it up to their faces, and smiled as wide as he could, giving a thumbs up before snapping the picture. Yeah, that was the moment right there he'd get to keep forever—the moment he'd found his new friend.

"That the one?" Wiz asked, startling Prompto a little.

"Umm . . . yeah. Can I have her? Please?"

Wiz opened the stall door, clipped a bright red lead to Sunny's halter, and handed it to Prompto. "She's all yours, then. Make sure yeh pick out yer tack when yer ready. Think summa yer friends already went out to the tack room."

"Thanks! But . . . I kinda wanna wait for Laura to pick." He nodded toward where Laura was now reaching the end of the long aisle.

"Yes, as do I," Iggy said, stepping up behind Prompto. He added more softly so only Prompto could hear, "I'm most interested to see how her additional abilities of perception influence her choice."

Wiz turned around, spotted Laura, and called out, "Hey, no sense goin' back there. There's just the crazed one there. And don' turn that light on, whatever ya do. He's afraid a' light." Lowering his voice to a more conversational tone, he added, "He's why we gotta keep that second door closed, even though it ain't the safest setup."

"I do hope you realize, now that you've said that—" Iggy said, stumbling a little as Calima nudged him hard on the shoulder. He reached up to stroke her neck before continuing, "—she's more likely to do exactly the opposite."

They passed by several empty stalls as they drew closer to where Laura was approaching the very last door. The only light that reached this end of the barn shined indirectly from the overhead bulb several stalls up the aisle, so Prompto had to squint to see more clearly into the dim as his eyes adjusted.

With a massive slam that sent Prompto and Sunny leaping back a step, a large, black shape suddenly thrust out at Laura from over the door, nearly catching her arm with its vicious, snapping beak. She ducked away, and the chocobo let out ear-splitting screech that set the other birds to spinning in their pens and squawking in protest. Sunny and Calima tossed their heads in the air, puffing up their feathers in alarm, and Calima let out an answering screech that made Prompto almost drop Sunny's lead. He gripped the rope more tightly and stroked her neck, trying to get her to settle as he calmed his own racing heart.

Laura hadn't moved. Her expression grew still and calm as she held her palms out to the chocobo, who cocked his head and screeched again. Prompto could just make out that his eyes were wide with fright, rolling in his skull, and pinning like crazy.

"Umm . . . maybe you should just . . . leave him alone?" Prompto suggested.

"Really, little lady, yeh ain't doin' 'im no favors," Wiz agreed. "He don't like bein' around people."

"She possesses some animal magic," Iggy informed him. "She may be of some help to the poor animal."

"Shoot, boy, yeh don't go bandyin' that kinda information out teh just anyone. Liable to end up cast outta town if they git wind of you practicin' non-Caelum magic." He held his hand up to his mouth and said in a lower voice, "Truth is, I got some animal magic, too, but that ain't made much difference fer 'im."

Iggy took in a breath like he was about to ask a question, but a soft, soothing voice drew their attention back to the stall at the end of the aisle.

"Dameh, dameh. Calipha wethren. Lich thana. Me paralínn doleth, oa lathá? Nia woroth. Nia miámenn."

With slow, gentle hands, Laura stood on the tips of her toes reached up for the bird's head.

"I wouldn't—" Prompto heard Wiz warn her one more time, but she ignored him and made contact with the bird's cheeks.

"Sira phleneth. Hallanath, opho?" she seemed to ask as her fingers rhythmically slipped through the dark feathers. When he grew quiet and his eyes fell closed, she added in a murmur, "Nia miámenn."

"Well, I'll be," Wiz said. "We haven't bin able ta get near that bird for two years now. Old Deadeye attacked 'im and killed 'is momma just after he hatched. Well, we nursed 'im back ta health, but he never recovered his mind, poor thing. We done the best we could with 'im, but there weren't much we could do. It's a shame. Not a lot of black chocobos 'round here teh begin with."

"He's coming with us," she said with finality.

"Well, hell, if yeh can git a saddle and bridle on 'im, he's all yours. Not like anyone else can ride him," Wiz said, tossing her a lead. "Can't make any guarantees bout yer safety though."

"I'll be fine."

"I hope so, but I cain't stick around teh find out. Gotta see to a chocobo with a foot fungus. Don't forget teh pick yer tack before yeh go, and Camilla'll getcha the whistles to go with yer birds."

"Thank you, Wiz," Laura said as he headed toward a side door several stalls up.

"So that's the one? Awesome!" Prompto cheered as she clipped the lead on the bird, whispering in hushed tones.

"Are you certain he would be the wisest choice?" Iggy asked. "We do have quite a journey ahead of us, which may try the temperament of even the most well-adjusted of creatures."

With a soft click, she opened the stall door and turned to glare in their direction. "He's coming with us."

"If you insist," Ignis sighed doubtfully. "But he's a handsome fellow. You'll have to choose a name for him."

"His name is Saracchian."

"And from which universe does that name hail?"

Laura let out a sigh of her own. "One of mine. It's from an old legend about a kind-hearted man who went to war to save his farm and family. He returned a hero, but the cost was the loss of his family and his heart. He was never the same again. I think Saracchian feels something similar about his ordeal with Deadeye."

"That sounds . . . tragic."

"Life can be that way, sometimes," she replied in a faraway voice, stroking Saracchian's beak.

"Indeed."

With a soft click of her tongue, she took several steps forward to lead Saracchian out into the aisle. Finding himself in a crowded space with three humans and two birds, he jerked his head up and planted his feet on the concrete, refusing to move another step.

"Shhh," she said, placing a hand on the puffed-up bird's beak. Skimming her fingertips up to his skull, she whispered, "Caliphat Prompto. Caliphat Ignis. Lichen thiánnen." In a louder voice, she said, "If you wouldn't mind reaching out slowly and petting him, please."

Prompto hesitated, waiting for Iggy to reach out and run his gloved fingers over Saracchian's sleek black neck before he did the same. Saracchian seemed to tremble beneath his touch, but another whisper from Laura settled him.

"So is that your native language?" Prompto asked.

Laura tilted her head back and forth doubtfully. "It . . . depends on what you mean by 'native.' It's the Lliamérian language, but I didn't learn it until I was about a hundred years old. This is actually my first language."

"Why is it that your first language is Lucian?" Iggy asked sharply. "You aren't of our universe, let alone our country."

"Ha! Have I got news for you! I haven't figured out yet how or why, but the entire concept of the Lucian language is a façade. Are all the languages on Eos like that?"

"I'm aware of the nature of Lucian, having spent some time attempting to solve the mystery myself as a project in university, but I unfortunately never made any headway in it."

They strolled slowly up the aisle toward the open barn door, leading their three new chocobos to the rectangle of dying orange light. Prompto hoped they'd have enough time to pick out tack and get a ride in before the sun went down.

"I speak Tenebraen, Accordion, Galahdian, and Niflian well enough to get by," Iggy continued, "though the influence of Lucis was once such that Lucian is still spoken all over the globe. The origin of all our modern languages remains an enigma . . . somewhat related to Lucian yet seemingly descended from nowhere."

"Uh . . . what're you guys talking about?" Prompto asked.

Iggy stopped and turned to him with that serious expression on his face, and Prompto inwardly groaned. This was gonna be one of those long lectures that reminded him of being stuck in a classroom for hours on end. Prompto figured he must've had a learning disorder or something, because even though he wanted to be nice and listen, his mind would always wander away the second Iggy started using "teacher voice."

"There is proof that the languages we speak today are related yet derived from several different sources that have never been discovered in any archaeological finds— kingdoms and civilizations that either never existed or simply vanished. There is even evidence of the passage of time—lexicons possessing both ancient and newer forms of certain words from child languages, and yet, any indication of these cultures still eludes us. The linguistics community has been unable to identify any written parent language on the planet. The only evidence of writing predating modern language is the Ancient Language—used by the Oracles on the havens."

"And the writings on the havens are not related to Lucian in any way," Laura said. "It appears to be a very primitive mathematical language."

"Information regarding the Ancient Language tends to be a rather delicate subject, given its history as a gift from the gods for the Oracle's use. There were also some recent discoveries made in archaeological digs around Lucis, but I fear I haven't had the time to read the article on it just yet."

Laura was the first to step out into the dusky light with Saracchian, who stopped dead the second his black claws curled into the dirt. "Shhh, nia miámenn, Saracchian," she said soothingly, burying her fingertips under the chocobo's chest feathers and rubbing his breastbone. "But I believe I can solve part of the mystery with Lucian, at least . . . you're not speaking Lucian. You're speaking English. It's _my_ language from _my_ planet, Earth, and _my_ country, England. It belongs on Earth, and its parent language, along with all the loanwords from Latin, French, Norse, and everything else, are all from civilizations that come from _my_ world. You lot are particularly obsessed with Latin, though—seem to name everything in Latin."

"Ahh, yes, streets, cities, and family names?" Iggy asked.

Laura nodded.

"All gifted to us by the gods and passed down through the generations. Some we can guess the meaning of based on roots from the other languages, but it's an imprecise process not to be relied upon. We consider the meaning behind such names as lost."

Ignis shook his head in disbelief, distractedly reaching out to run his free hand through Calima's feathers. "After all these years, the mystery of the Lucian language is solved," he said almost breathlessly. "It's a pity we could never publish a paper on the subject; we'd be laughed out of any conference, certainly. And yet you've introduced more questions: how did English come to suddenly exist on this planet? What of the other languages? Why did the Ancient Language not continue on in some form?"

"I don't know," Laura murmured thoughtfully. When Iggy inclined his head and fixed her with a dark look, she held up a hand. "Really, it's nothing to do with me! . . . that I know of. I have no plans of going back to plant the seed for your entire civilization."

Prompto never really knew what to say when they got to talking like this. He'd always done okay in school, but both of them operated a level he couldn't even touch. So when he saw the opportunity to add to the conversation, he jumped at it.

"You sure about that?" he teased.

Laura's gaze turned inward for a moment like she was thinking really hard about something—though Prompto couldn't begin to imagine what. She finally said, "No, I don't think I have anything to do that, thank the stars, but it's happened before."

"Um . . . wait. Earth? Didn't you tell us you were from some other planet?"

Saracchian had calmed enough to stop kneading nervously at the wet soil, so Laura pulled on his lead and began walking them all to the tack building across the stable doors on the other side of a winding dirt path.

"Yes, I was born in one universe on Miriásia, sort of adopted in another universe by humans on Earth, and ended up spending most of my 'childhood' with my parents in a third universe on Earth. It's a long story."

"Hey, you were adopted? Me too!" He reached out to give her a fist bump.

She must've known _exactly_ what it felt like then to never quite fit in, if she'd been raised by parents that weren't even from the same planet! And didn't she say that humans were once enemies to her people? She probably totally understood that traitorous feeling he'd been wrestling with most of his life.

"Actually, it kinda sucks sometimes," he said in a quieter voice, "being adopted."

"It does, doesn't it? I don't know what it was like for you, but for me? Three universes, two planets, two species, two names, two languages, two bodies, two cultures . . .. It can take its toll trying to figure out who you are, but no matter where you are, you never quite fit in."

Ignis opened his mouth to say something, but Prompto had to cut in. Laura and Iggy'd had enough fun today with thermodynamics and languages and old stuff, but this was _his_ area of expertise. Finally!

"I know _exactly_ how you feel! I've never really felt like I belonged anywhere cause of that, ya know?"

"But you have a happy ending, yeah? You found your place with them," she said with a gesture toward Ignis, who had just tied Calima outside and was joining Gladio and Noct in the tack room shed.

"Yeah," he sighed, trying to figure out how to tie the lead to the hitching post like Iggy had. "I guess I did. Just . . . sometimes, I don't even know about that. They're all so incredible at everything. I'm just . . . normal. Nothin' special about me. Soon as they figure that out, I'm toast."

Seriously, he wasn't trying to fish for compliments, but if she'd ever felt like an outsider because of being adopted, maybe she'd get this feeling that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Laura gently pried the twisted lead from his fingers and began tying Sunny to the post with a complicated series of wraps and knots. She pulled the rope tight and looked up at him. "You're wrong about that, you know."

His embarrassment and frustration made his lower lip tremble like a stupid little kid. He ducked his head and reached out to pet Sunny's wing. "I dunno."

"We aren't some sort of military unit, despite what the others may think. We're all friends, which means we need more than weapons to get by. Not only do you support them in fights, you lift them up when they're down. Your innocence and enthusiasm remind them of what they're fighting for."

A hand settled on his shoulder and turned him around so he was facing her. With a light touch to his chin, she silently asked him to look at her, and he did—even though his face was probably getting splotchy-looking just from thinking about this stupid stuff.

"And recent events should teach you that not everything is as it appears. We're all hiding something, Prompto. We're all not as perfect as we appear to be."

Prompto's eyes slid over to Calima, where he could see Ignis holding a black leather bridle with intricately-carved silver accents up to her head, his lips moving a little as he spoke hushed words to the hen with a soft smile. Maybe Prompto had been wrong about him not liking animals, after all.

But Ignis's secrets were different than Prompto's. He'd never been in danger of being kicked out of the group or beheaded for what'd happened to him as a kid. She had a point, though.

"Yeah," he said with a humorless chuckle, stepping toward the tack room. "Guess you're right."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Rei's Chicken is a chicken place in Insomnia, but I am choosing to believe it's a mistake on behalf of the creators rather than evidence for chickens existing. So they serve chickatrice fingers.

Signs in the game indicate that Accordo speaks Italian. Tenebrae speaks French, and Niflheim speaks German. Since this game was played in English for me and not Japanese, Japanese doesn't exist as a spoken language in this world, though the reasons for the Japanese characters on signs in Insomnia will be explained in a later chapter.


	22. Chapter 22

"Care for some assistance, Noct?" Ignis asked as he approached the caravan, holding his mobile out as a suggestion. "You could use a skilled wizard."

Noct and Prompto's heads shot up from their phones to look at him; then Prompto cast a hesitant side-eye at Noct, who leaned forward in his plastic lawn chair to rest his forearms on the table.

"Uh . . . that's okay, Specs. We're just messin' around," he mumbled, his attention darting between the phone screen and Ignis. "Don't feel like you need to be here for this."

Ignis couldn't help but release the smallest huff of a sigh. He thought he understood what Noct was doing—allowing him to spend their rare leisure time as he wished instead of indulging the Prince in joining in his hobbies, but it was unnecessary. It was true that playing videogames wasn't a natural inclination of his, but Ignis enjoyed the sight of Noct enjoying himself, and the games themselves were mildly diverting in short bursts. They stirred his competitive side and afforded him the opportunity to remove that ever-present cloak of responsibility to be "the fun one" for a change.

Still, he'd leave them be if Noct would rather spend time with Prompto. Prompto always seemed to be better at gauging and influencing Noct's mood than Ignis, and he was always appreciative of how much happier, and more cooperative, Noct was after spending so much free time with the high-strung gamer. Perhaps things would normalize between them if he left Noct alone with Prompto for a while.

"If you prefer, Highness," he said with a slight bow of his head.

He thought he saw Noct wince before he turned away and headed toward the post, and he repressed his own stirring of uneasiness. Noct had always possessed somewhat of a disdain for formality, but it appeared as though Laura's more intolerant attitude regarding treatment of royal status had rubbed off on him, and Ignis wasn't quite certain how he felt about that.

Though the others had mostly returned to behaving as they had before Ignis's sojourn through time, Noct's treatment of him had grown erratic—alternating between ignoring his existence, treating him as though he were made of spun glass, making awkward attempts at allowing things to get back to normal, or staring at him as though he was no longer quite certain who Ignis was anymore. Ignis would wait patiently for this behavior to fade, but if it went on for much longer, he would have to say something about it to him directly.

He was unsure, however, if even a chat would normalize things between them. After Noct had referred to him as a _brother_ the other day, he wasn't completely certain what normal even was anymore. Ignis had always considered himself a brother, of a sort, to the child he'd cared for since he was a toddler, but he had always believed himself to be more of a source of irritation and support to Noct, particularly after his recovery from the assassination attempts. Then again, Laura _had_ pointed out to him that his description was often times the very definition of brotherhood.

He turned his attention to the task at hand, which was to find something to do for late morning hours until Noct decided he'd had enough relaxation and dragged them off to the racing track across the road.

Leisure time—it was a foreign concept. Typically, the rare unscheduled moment didn't last longer than a quarter of an hour and was quickly filled with grabbing a quick bite, finishing up reports from Council meetings, cleaning his apartment, checking on the state of Noct's living situation, returning e-mail correspondence with what seemed to be half of Eos, or examining the latest news on the Empire or the Royal Family. But out here in the wild, hardly any of his moments were scheduled. The five of them were either led through the day by Noct's whims or the sun instead of the clock, and though the change had been mildly disorienting but oddly freeing those first few days out of the city, Ignis was hardly any less busy or harassed for it. But on pulling out his notebook and checking over his lists, he found that he and Laura had already completed his tasks for today, including cleaning out the Regalia and scrubbing that filthy caravan to within an inch of its life.

Which meant that this leisure time was truly that—for leisure.

There were a thousand hobbies and interests he'd allowed to lapse over the years that he could perhaps begin to explore again this afternoon, but he found himself wishing for something quieter, more . . . leisurely. Duscae was green and rocky, refreshing and _new_ —perhaps he should take a stroll and see what there was to discover. Should he first change his clothes, though, in case he encountered Laura or Gladio?

Ignis glanced down at himself.

They had all gotten silly chocobo-themed t-shirts at Wiz's shop earlier this morning to take photos with the chocobos out front before adding their own birds to the portraits. For nearly half an hour, the five of them had acted like children as they struck ridiculous poses and made faces at the camera. It was odd how such a frivolous moment made Ignis feel connected to his four friends, almost like a family, but as he'd put an arm around Gladio's shoulders and another around Prompto's, made two peace signs, and grinned like a fool, he could come up with no other word for it.

He shouldn't try to delude himself; he had no intention of merely going for a walk. Nor did he intend to approach Gladio should he encounter him, no matter how much he enjoyed the surprisingly contemplative man's company.

Ignis decided he wouldn't change clothes, as Laura had still been wearing her t-shirt when she'd wandered off with Saracchian. Idly strolling in the direction he'd seen her heading after their photo session, he passed the main building toward the hill that overlooked the sweeping expanse of verdant, rocky fields and the Disc of Cauthess in the distance. Pausing at the top of the steep incline, it only took a moment to find her resting against Saracchian's side on the long, stringy grass, her loose hair blowing every which way in the wind as though it were a living creature. Saracchian's head rested in her lap just as that anak had in the Weaverwilds, with her fingers stroking rhythmically through his glossy black crest.

It occurred to him to call for Calima to close the distance between them more quickly, but he had only just left her with a pile of curiel greens to charge up for their races later today. Ignis had always nursed a soft spot for animals from afar, but he was still surprised to find himself instantly beguiled with the sweet, demanding, yet beautiful creature. He had enjoyed her quiet companionship as he conditioned his new saddle, rolled her pinfeathers between his fingers, and oiled her shiny black claws, and he was looking forward to testing his bond with his new friend in a healthy bit of competition this afternoon.

Choosing not to interrupt Calima's very important meal, Ignis carefully picked his own way down the incline to approach Laura. He hoped she was feeling up to playing host to him today. She had only just gained her full measure of strength to rise before the dawn yesterday, much to his regret, and might prefer to be left alone. He decided to meander for a bit and search for birdbeast eggs while he watched carefully and gauged her reaction when she spotted him. Her body language would determine whether he should inflict his company on her.

The distance between the two of them took far longer to traverse than he'd originally calculated, as it seemed to double the closer he drew to the flatter plain below. Duscae was, as he'd expected, stunning, and this view where she'd chosen to spend her time was no exception. As he wove through a small copse of spindly trees with their leaves dancing merrily in the breeze, he cast his eyes to the towering evergreens above him, humbled by the sight of something alive being so much larger than he was. How many ages of man and beast had passed beneath the shade of their needles?

He cleared the copse, and the landscape immediate opened up before him, offering a sweeping view of the fields of lush grass rolling in long, sweeping waves in the wind; patches of low underbrush; and slanted walls of grey and rust-veined rock—supposed scars left on the land when Titan caught the meteor. In the distance, the massive stone arches stretched like bridges toward the frozen wave of the Disc of Cauthess.

The vista was so breathtaking that he wondered if she expected him to come and find her in this place.

A thin, faint melody accompanied the sight, carried on the stiff breeze as he drew closer, and he froze, cocking his head to better hear that ethereal, lilting voice bounding over the grass toward him. It was that song—that melody that had haunted his dreams for over half his life. She was singing it to Saracchian, but she wasn't humming as she had with him as a child. Words reached his ears, seemingly meaningless at first, until they co-mingled to paint a picture of childhood memories long forgotten and a kind and caring guardian.

But he was no longer a child, and he certainly had no desire for her to see him as such. He straightened and strode purposefully toward her, fixing his expression into a mask of cool indifference.

That skittish creature of hers flinched as he drew close enough to look down at her, the feathers on his head standing on end.

"Dameh," she stopped to whisper, curling her hand to rest around his beak. With a final, baleful side-eye up at Ignis, Saracchian settled back in Laura's lap. It was only with Saracchian's sigh that she looked up at Ignis expectantly.

"Some of those words are surprisingly apropos. Did you choose that particular melody deliberately?"

Her lip curled into a mysterious smile. "Everything I say and do is on purpose—until it isn't."

"You never sang the words for me; I would have remembered them."

"And that right there would have been a problem. In an entire book, it's easy to pass off odd words if the story is fantastical enough. In a song, however . . . I couldn't explain to you what horses and bears were, as they don't exist on this planet."

"I see." He lowered his eyes to the grass at his feet, considering his next move. His original intention was to happen by her as he foraged the area, but that idea seemed asinine in the here and now, particularly as there didn't appear to be anything to forage beyond grass and rock. He'd had to walk for nearly twenty minutes in her direction to reach her; he could hardly play nonchalant at this point.

And he seemed to get better results when he used the direct approach with her.

"Would you care for some company?"

Her polite smile grew lively and vibrant. "I'd love that."

To his surprise, the second he settled down across from her with his legs outstretched in front of him, she lifted Saraccian's head with a touch to his beak and leaned forward, reaching for Ignis's shoes.

"What on Eos do you think you're doing?" he asked with half-alarm, half-curiosity, though he didn't pull away from her exploring fingers. Ignis had a feeling he was about to embark on one of her mad adventures, and though dread washed over him as it always did in the beginning of these experiences, he found himself anticipating the moment his dread transformed to wonder.

"Exactly what it looks like I'm doing," she said, reaching underneath the leg of his trousers and fumbling at the laces of his left shoe. "Honestly, what sort of a man sits in a field with grass as lush as this with his shoes on? And the sky is grey today. Increases the contrast and makes it look an even brighter green—sets your eyes aglow, too."

Before he could even begin to process a possible meaning behind her words or how they made him feel, she had untied the laces, slipped his shoe off, and dismissed it to the armiger. When she once again reached up the leg of his trousers for the top of his sock, her fingers brushed against his shin, and she paused to hum deep and honey-like in the back of her throat.

"Seriously? Sock garters? Blimey, what a classy gentleman, you are."

He wanted to explain that he'd only begun using them since leaving Insomnia, as it seemed even the highest quality sock wasn't up to the task of remaining stretched over his calf in a battle, but he found he couldn't summon a reply. Something in his chest had lodged in his throat at the feeling of her fingers in a place he was almost certain no one had ever touched him before in his life.

"I suppose I'm along for this ride whether I like it or not," he finally managed to mutter as she reached for his right shoe, but her hands stilled immediately at his words.

"I'm sorry. Do you not want this? I can get carried away at times; I don't mean to, honestly."

"No! Forgive me. I was just being . . . sarcastic. It comes and goes," he replied with a wry smile.

Apprehensive though he was for whatever she had planned for him, he was honestly eager to see it play out. Perhaps those inconsistencies were obscuring his mood—as though he were sending mixed signals. He did his best to smother the apprehension. She remained still for a moment, her head tilting as she searched his face. Finally, she seemed to find whatever she was looking for because she began removing his other shoe and sock.

"I don't _ever_ want you to think you don't have a choice. You _always_ have a choice with me, Ignis. Just tell me to get the hell away from you if that's what you want."

"Never," he murmured, meeting her eyes with a seriousness that seemed to surprise her. But though perhaps a tad too intense for the moment, his words were truth. Whether they remained friends or perhaps became something more, he never wanted her to stop making his life interesting.

"Well then, there you are," she said when she'd finished, nodding down at his bare feet.

"Thank you," he replied politely, though he was still bewildered as to why she would insist on undressing him for this.

"So! A new province—new scenery, new animals, new adventures. What are you most looking forward to seeing in Duscae?"

"Lestallum, of course," he answered. "It's the largest city in the outlands. And we may have to stay there a while, as the Marshal's instructions for finding the Sword of the Wanderer are somewhat vague, and I haven't been able to reach him these past few days. It would also be beneficial to stop by the apothecary and see what poisons they have in stock."

"Planning on slipping something into Noctis's supper?"

"No," he chuckled. "Searching for more effective and efficient poisons than our base stock. Lestallum has better access to the wildlife they're harvested from than Insomnia. But now that you mention supper, the region _is_ supposed to be well-known for truffles. However, I don't believe we'll be driving through the south where they're said to flourish."

"And you don't think Noctis will allow a detour?"

"Fun guy though he is, I don't believe he would make an exception for truffles, no. Though we may get lucky later on. The Tomb of the Just lies in that region."

Ignis leaned back on his hands and let his thoughts drift to that frozen, shimmering wave rising above the hills in the distance. It was said to be the largest sculpture of mythril in the world, dating back to the ancient times, though archaeologists had yet to come any closer to discovering what the wave might have been before it had been damaged by the meteor—or any additional evidence of civilization in the area. In fact, despite thousands of years having passed since the meteor was said to have fallen, no life stirred there beyond the primeval dinoaevis building their nests among the craggy heated rocks and sulfur fumes.

"Though it's the Disc of Cauthess I look forward to seeing most," he said quietly.

She leaned forward and turned her head in that direction as though attempting to evaluate the view from precisely his angle. "What is it that interests you so?"

"The mystery surrounding it. Science and religion aren't the most comfortable of bedfellows on our world, and I would like to see for myself that which is only described through the lens of superstition. It still burns after thousands of years—fueling a religious devotion to the Archaean in the area, providing electricity to much of population, and protecting the people from the vanishing disease that is believed to have spread just after the meteor fell."

"That does sound like it warrants a visit. Meteors shouldn't burn for thousands of years or provide power. Does all of Lucis rely on this one meteor? How large is it that it can provide so much yet not destroy your world when it fell?"

"No. Insomnia had its own power stations. Only the outlands rely on it as a source. Shards broke off and were scattered far and wide when the Archaean caught it, so I imagine the locals must venture out to find them."

"Hmm."

They both grew silent, and Ignis tilted his head to the sky, wishing the sun were shining today that he might have the chance to revel in the warmth for once.

A gentle brush of something against his left foot made him jerk to attention and his eyes snap open. Laura's hand was hovering just above his toes as though she'd just pulled it back. When he relaxed into his half-reclined position, she hesitantly lowered it again, skimming her fingers over the tops of his bare feet, stroking from his ankle to the tips of his toes.

"Is this okay?" she whispered.

He could feel his heartrate quicken in his throat at her voluntary touch. Surely she wasn't _this_ tactile with the others? If he were honest with himself, this felt bizarre, like a surreal dream where he could at any moment find himself in the Council chambers taking notes on a meeting regarding the rising cost of fuel sans trousers.

Still, he nodded.

But the sensation of her skin on his was once again far more intimate than he had expected it to feel. He leaned back onto his elbows—not because he'd inexplicably developed a tremor in his forearms but to present a more casual acceptance of this turn of events than he was currently feeling.

"You have long toes," she said introspectively, running a finger up the second toe of his left foot, circling the pad of her fingertip around the two or three hairs on his knuckle before continuing up to his toenail.

Ah, this old complaint. He'd heard similar comments his entire life, even from Noct and Gladio. He was long, lean, freckled, and pale—he knew it—but it seemed everyone in his life was eager to take the time to remind him that he was whichever adjective they themselves weren't. A fellow Crownsguard had once made the mistake of commenting on his "freakishly long toes" in the changing room, but had never again said another word after Ignis had thoroughly trounced the man in a spar two days later—within the bounds of proper sparring etiquette, of course. He knew the source of the teasing from Gladio and Noct came from a place of affection, but it still made him uncomfortable enough to keep well-covered in public unless necessary. Besides—he saw no purpose in displaying one's hide for the sole purpose of attracting attention as Gladio did.

He hadn't expected Laura to make such a comment on his physique, however, as everything she'd said in the past had been flatteringly positive.

"Well, all of me is long," he said somewhat irritably. "It stands to reason my toes would be as well. Is that a problem?"

Fire ignited in her sapphire eyes as she wrapped a hand around his right foot and squeezed. "Not at all," she said without hesitation. "I think your toes are lovely."

"My toes—" he began incredulously, unable to believe those words had left her lips.

"Are lovely, yes." Her free hand joined the first, squeezing and digging her thumbs deep into the fleshy parts of his foot. "And your skin is so soft," she said in a voice to match her words. "They even smell nice; you must have one hell of a shoe powder."

"A m-mix of several brands," he stammered as she ran both her thumbs down the line of his arch.

By Shiva, what on Eos was happening? How had they arrived at this point—holding such a bizarre conversation with him in . . . _this_ position? But Astrals, strange though it was, her every touch set his skin to tingling and his heart to racing in such a pleasurable way.

As her thumb pressed at just the right angle into the area below the ball of his foot, he collapsed completely in the grass. A sound that he swore had never before escaped his throat clawed its way up through his lungs and past his lips, though it likely wasn't as loud as he believed it to have been. He immediately raised his head to gauge her reaction, which seemed to be that of profound elation.

"Apologies," he mumbled, still appalled by his lack of control. "That was inappropriate."

"Nonsense," she said, switching to his other foot. "There's nothing at all inappropriate about expressing appreciation and pleasure." Her voice diminished to a near-whisper as she continued. "Just lie back and enjoy it. Stop thinking about how you _should_ be thinking or feeling and just feel."

It was exactly the right thing to say, because as he laid his head down in the springy grass and raised his eyes the underside of the massive Duscaean Pine swaying above his head, his mind wanted to wander to every thought he should be having about this strange situation: how mortified he would feel should one of the others happen to stumble upon them in this moment; how he, the mere mortal servant, should be the one attending to her. For heaven's sake, a queen and goddess was currently rubbing his _feet_ as he lay lounging on the ground.

But this was part of the letting go, was it not? With a slow, deep breath, he forced himself to relax. He fisted his fingers in the strands of grass and allowed himself to be swept away by the breeze on his face; the thick cushion of turf beneath his back; the feel of her soft, warm hands on his skin; and the tide of pleasure that seemed to crash against the soles of his feet and roll up his legs. He hadn't realized how sore they'd been from all the walking they'd been doing these past weeks until she'd begun her ministrations.

His thoughts had only just settled when he felt her hands leave him, and he opened his eyes when a shadow blocked the dim light of the overcast sky. Gods, her face was so close, hovering over him and glowing with a euphoric smile. Her hair was hanging down to brush against his jaw and shoulders in the breeze in a way that felt almost intimate.

"Breathe, Ignis," she whispered to him, the sound of her order carrying on it that bubbling promise of adventure that had drawn him to her in the first place.

He obeyed without question, inhaling a deep breath through his nose, and that scent of hers threatened to drown him.

"No," she chuckled, shaking her head, but her eyes were still sparkling. "You're doing it wrong."

"Really? I must beg to differ. But I suppose I'm open to advice if you have any," he said with a smirk.

Her soft lips pulled into an even wider smile. "Do you remember last time, when I had you smell the life?" He nodded. "This time I want you to taste it. Let the air in through your mouth, roll it over your tongue, and taste the life on the air."

Her voice was so luminous that he idly wondered if she was capable of casting a spell on him in Lucian rather than Lliamérian, because he immediately complied without a thought, inhaling deeply until he thought his lungs would burst from expanding so far. At first, as the cool, wet air rushed over his tongue and palate, all he could taste was her intoxicating scent, which was life enough, he supposed, but he doubted that was what she was aiming for. He took another breath and understood. If he was truly paying attention, he could taste the mineral scent of rock on his tongue; the sweet, juicy flavor of fresh grass; damp soil; and even the wild, gamey aroma of chocobo on the air.

"Yes, that's it," she whispered, settling down in the crook of his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, inordinately pleased that she'd settled so close to him like this of her own accord.

"I can't imagine living your life like this," he said to the top of her head. "It seems as though you strive to make every moment wondrous."

She hummed before replying, "As a very, very wise man once told me, 'Seize the time. Live now. Make now always the most precious time. Now will never come again.' Even if I have infinite moments ahead of me, I can never go back and relive this exact moment ever again—not precisely—and neither can you. So I do my best to make it special—for you and for me, but especially for you."

He still couldn't fathom why she had chosen here with him to spend her most precious time. She could be anywhere right now—in all of time in space, in all the multiverse—and she was lying barefoot in the grass in his arms wearing a ridiculous chocobo t-shirt and staring up at what was likely, to her, a thoroughly ordinary sky. Her grasp of life must be so very different from his, with all she was capable of perceiving, if this was the moment she was choosing to live right now.

"What must it feel like," he asked, half expecting not to receive an answer, "to see time the way you do? To see the world as you do, with past, present, and future all one and the same? To know the entire multiverse?"

She propped herself up on an elbow to lean over him and search his face.

"Hmph," she exhaled through her nose on a chuckle, though her eyes were suddenly desperately melancholy.

Seeking to ease the weight of wistfulness from her amusement, he reached up tentatively to brush the stray lock of hair fluttering against his shoulder and tuck it behind her ear. He was unsure whether it was the right thing to do, but instinct had spurred him, and for once, he obeyed it without thought. As she leaned toward his hand and closed her eyes at his gentle touch, he smiled to himself for having guessed correctly.

"It's like when you're a kid," she began when his hand fell to his side, "the first time they tell you the world is turning, and you just can't quite believe it because everything looks like it's standing still."

She placed a hand over his heart, tilting her head as though she were detecting some stimulus beyond his human perception. "I can feel it—" she breathed, confirming his assumption. The rate of her words picked up in speed and intensity as she continued, almost as though she were afraid of what she could see behind her closed eyelids. "—the turn of the planet. The ground beneath our backs is spinning at a thousand miles an hour. The entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. And I can _feel_ it."

Her eyes opened wide, boring into his with golden wonder and power and foreboding that almost made him breathless as she moved her hand from his heart to his shoulder, gripping tightly. These moments, right here, were what made him feel small before her. They reminded him of her divinity, as no mortal being could emulate that terrifying look in her eyes—an expression that was matched in her voice as she spoke her next words.

"Ignis, we're falling through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world. And if we let go . . ." She trailed off and released his shoulder, letting her hand drift back down to his heart. But she never finished her sentence, leaving him to wonder what _would_ happen if they let go, as that was exactly what he'd been doing these past few days.

He never got the chance to ask her, for she pulled away from him so suddenly that he wondered for a moment if she had vanished into thin air—or perhaps that she had simply never existed in the first place. But as he looked over in a daze to see her standing above him with that bright smile of hers, she bent down and took his hand, pulling him to his feet.

"Come. Make sure you curl your toes in the grass at least once on the way."

 _That_ particular command gave him pause. "What? Why?"

"Allons-y!" she added with a laugh, but her expression was so full of life once again that he found he couldn't refuse her as she pulled him along through the grass toward some unknown destination. "Let me show you."

Concern stirred in him at her words. Show him? Show him what it felt to know all of time and space? The concept sounded thrilling, but what, precisely, would it require of him?

He reminded himself to relax—to let go—and feel the damp grass tickling at his soles for the first time in his life as though they were the delicate fibers of a hand-woven Tenebraean plush carpet. Of course there was grass in Insomnia, but he'd never had the desire nor opportunity to traipse around outside undressed like a heathen. Now that he'd been convinced to do so, he was surprised to find he wasn't as disgusted by the sensation as he thought he would be. The soft soil beneath the carpet gave a little under his weight with each step, and every stride pulled away cleanly, leaving his feet unmuddied.

Still, Ignis didn't believe it would be a custom he was going to start making a habit of.

Laura stopped short in a thoroughly ordinary spot, seemingly identical to the one they had just vacated—at least to Ignis—but Laura inspected the ground around them closely before taking his other hand and grinning up at him.

"Spin with me," she said before she stepped to the side, leading him in a circle.

He frowned, but complied nevertheless. "Why are we doing this?"

She picked up speed and laughed. "You wanted to know what it felt like. I'm showing you. Faster!"

Wondering what other daft commands of hers he would wind up following on this deranged experience of theirs, he obeyed, leaning back so his balance was dependent on hers and shuffling his feet to the side, picking up speed until he couldn't possibly move them any faster. The world around them transformed into a blur of green and grey, of grass and rock and cloudy sky, until the only thing that was in focus was her joyous, laughing face and her blue-black hair whipping to the side like a banner caught in the wind.

Yes, he knew this feeling well. This was exactly what it felt like falling for her.

"You're absolutely mad!" he exclaimed before throwing his face to the sky and pouring all his disbelief and wonder into an eruption of laughter.

"Do you trust me, Ignis?" she asked, her tone so soft and serious that his smile fell and his gaze immediately dropped to hers. "This won't be the same unless you do exactly as I ask."

The apprehension had long since dissipated, leaving nothing but that euphoria in his heart that always seemed to show on her face in moments like these.

"I'm all in," he replied without hesitation, though he secretly hoped she wouldn't require too much of him, as he was beginning to grow dizzy.

"I'm going to count to three, then you're going to close your eyes and let go. There's nothing behind us; I made certain of it. But it won't work unless you close your eyes."

Of course she would ask of him the one thing he hated most in the world—relinquishing what little control he had over his own life, closing his eyes in the face of uncertainty, and facing peril in the dark. Nothing good ever came of it. But he supposed that it was what was always asked of mortals seeking favors from the gods—a sacrifice of the highest order. However, she wasn't one of the Six, balanced with cruelty and mercy in equal measure. She was giving him the choice to take that leap of his own accord. And she was Rose— _his_ Rose.

He'd made the decision to see this through no matter where it might lead him back in that library, and he had reaffirmed his word aloud just a moment ago. All he had to do was ensure that his voice was as firm as his will.

"All right."

Her expression softened as though she knew precisely the depth of meaning behind those two simple words, but she didn't comment on it.

"One. Two . . . three!"

Ignis cast aside his every instinct, slammed his eyes shut, and let go of her hands at the same moment she did. Time seemed to slow as his body flew backwards, making the ground feel much farther away than he'd originally thought. For how much longer would he float like this?

But everything became suddenly crystal clear.

He was falling through space. He had let go, ceded control, and was now falling through space with no idea when he would land, where he would land, or what it would feel like when he did. The disorientation was overwhelming with his head still spinning. He'd wanted to be swept away, and she'd done exactly as he'd wished. It was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.

Yes, exactly like falling for her.

The moment was over far too soon as he landed completely unharmed on the plush grass, but the breath knocked from his lungs merely served to add to the experience as his world continued to whirl on its axis. After a few seconds, he felt her settle next to him, but he held still as his heartbeat slowed to normal and the rush in his ears grew quiet. It was only when he could hear her gentle breaths next to him that he slowly opened his eyes.

She was gazing at him expectantly, her own eyes alight with everything he had felt in the last several minutes.

"That? That's what it feels like to be you?" he asked breathlessly.

"In every moment."

"I don't understand how you could bear it, feeling that all the time."

She grinned. "There was . . . an adjustment period, certainly, but now you know why I'm so mad." She took a deep breath in through her nose, closing her eyes and tilting her head. A furrow of concentration formed between her brows. "Wait. Do you smell that?" she asked, gazing out to the horizon.

Ignis sat up suddenly and sniffed the air, wondering what she could perceive out there that would change her mood so suddenly.

"No, what is it?"

He was startled by her sudden burst of laughter. "My _gods_ , but I love this planet! Two adventures in one; the timing couldn't be more perfect." She looked over at Saracchian, who was still lying several yards away. "You may as well go, dear, so you don't get caught in it as well,"

To Ignis's surprise, the bird stood and trotted toward the ranch.

"Is there anything you don't want getting wet?" she asked.

The feeling that came over him at her words wasn't exactly dread this time, but certainly distaste, at the very least. He was hardly any more excited to get wet than he had been the day before, but nothing had changed from a moment ago. He was still all in. If he could hold on to this feeling, he'd follow her anywhere.

"Here," he said, reaching into his pocket and handing her his mobile. "This won't go into our armiger."

"I'll never understand the logic of that thing—ridiculous." She took his phone and dismissed it to her Pocket before scooting to his side so closely that their bodies touched from shoulder to hip to knee.

The dizziness he'd only just recovered from began to make itself known again as he contemplated what he was about to do. He'd felt this way a time or two before when he'd had a glass of champagne at a function and had forgotten to eat something beforehand, but he'd controlled himself easily at the time because he hadn't simultaneously been overwhelmed with wave after wave of giddiness. Now, he could only hope she wouldn't notice the slight tremor in his hand as he lifted it slowly, convincing himself that it would be all right, that he had done this before. But it was different this time—a single step in a journey rather than the final destination. He settled his arm around her shoulders and wrapped his fingers around the curve of her bicep.

He let out a silent, perhaps slightly shaky breath when his overture was accepted contentedly. She leaned heavily into his shoulder and brought a hand around his back to squeeze him closer. Honestly, this was no more than what they had done in the Regalia the other day, but this wasn't a chivalrous effort to make her more comfortable as she slept. This sensation of his heart beating faster in his chest and his blood surging through his veins awoke something inside him reminiscent of the thrill of the hunt, of the wonder at gazing up at the stars for the first time, of the rush at falling through space. Never in his life had he ever felt so alive.

This was joy.

"Look out to the horizon now. It may be too soon for your eyes, but it's starting."

Ignis turned his attention to the direction she'd indicated, squinting into the distance. At first, he couldn't make out anything notable beyond a sort of haze that was now obstructing his view of the mythril wing of the Disc. But instead of asking her what he was supposed to be looking for, he waited patiently—breathing in the fresh air mixed with her scent, reveling in the warmth of her body against his, and simply enjoying sharing this moment. Gentle patters of rain began to slap onto the dead leaves and vibrantly green grass as they waited, and still, he stayed quiet with her.

And then he saw it—a massive, sweeping wall of slate blue spreading across the landscape and advancing on them. The drops falling from the sky increased in frequency as the wall drew closer—until it broke over the both of them, swallowing them whole. It roared in his ears like a living beast as every inch of him was instantly soaked skin-deep.

The sensation of heavy, wet denim and silk weighing him down disgusted him just as it had yesterday, and the chill seeping into his bones was just as unpleasant. But as he looked down at the top of the dark head resting in the crook of his arm, he found his heart full of nothing but warmth.

The tenderness of the moment only lasted a minute longer before the rain settled into a thoroughly ordinary afternoon shower.

"Do you smell it now?"

For what felt like the millionth time in the past hour, he inhaled deeply, this time through his nose, and he detected a new scent—sweet, pungent, wet, and soil—a fresh zing in his nostrils. He'd smelled something similar in the air after it had rained in Insomnia all his life, but it had never been this strong, this clean.

"Yes, what is that?"

"That's ozone, the smell of soil after the rain—the intoxicating scent of petrichor," she replied, looking up at him. "Now tilt your head back and open your mouth."

He did as she asked, collecting a small mouthful of rainwater and swallowing. The flavor of it was almost sharp, and it tasted exactly like the scent of the trees and the rocks and the air he was currently breathing.

He felt her lean up so that her lips were nearly brushing his sideburns. "You're drinking the clouds, Ignis. You're tasting the sky," she murmured, the vibrations from her words tickling at the hairs in his ear and making him shiver.

Oh Astrals, if this was what she considered friendship, he didn't think he was capable of surviving what she considered romance. As he looked down into her eyes, he wanted nothing more in that moment than to taste her as he'd just tasted the sky, but he hadn't yet tested his hypothesis to his satisfaction. Now was not the time to be impetuous and cast everything aside on a reckless whim. He would continue with his original intent, gauge her reaction, and proceed accordingly the next time he found himself in such a fortunate scenario.

His heart felt as though it was about to race out of his chest and sprint across the open field as he reached his left hand around and slowly, carefully brushed the backs of his knuckles against her cheek. She closed her eyes and inhaled at his touch, but the pleasant smile on her face remained.

So far, so good.

He gazed down at her with so much tenderness filling him that it was a wonder his body could contain it. Allowing his voice to go deep and husky, he said, "Words cannot adequately express my gratitude for you sharing this with me."

Before she could reply, he brought the hand that was around her shoulders to the soaked hair plastered to the side of her head, tugging her to him slowly enough that she had time to pull away should she wish. As he brought her wet forehead to his lips—the first time in his life he'd ever pressed his lips to another person's skin—he almost felt nauseated at how violently the blood seemed to be pulsing beneath his skin.

He forced his breath to hold steady as he pulled away and opened his eyes to hers.

Dazzling. They dazzled him—along with that smile that always seemed to grace her expression when she was looking at him. Surely, that couldn't be a coincidence?

His breath began to fail him, however, when he felt her hand brush from his back to the other side of his head, pulling his face down toward hers just as slowly and gently as he had.

"It's better with two, Ignis, always," she whispered before touching her lips to his cheek.

As he sat by her side in that little patch of grass, soaking wet and chilled, Ignis was certain that he wanted to keep feeling this feeling for the rest of his life. Though it still terrified him so much that it hurt, he couldn't help but think that if this feeling in his head and heart wasn't love, he didn't know what was.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Duscaean truffles are an item featured in a…magazine? called Cuisine Monthly. My thanks to SylvaViaFleuret on the subreddit for their invaluable datamining and finding this in the game.

Most of what I say about the Disc of Cauthess is not canon.

I'll sometimes stick a line or a phrase in from other fandoms . . . they're littered throughout the story. For the bigger things, however, I feel I should give credit. So the "Make now always the most precious time" quote is from Star Trek TNG—a heartbreaking episode called "Inner Light." The entire "turn of the planet" speech belongs to the venerable Russell T. Davies' era Doctor Who.


	23. Chapter 23

"Okay, okay, okay, I got another one!" Prompto interrupted the full five minutes of blessed silence to shout, and Ignis couldn't help himself this time. He allowed the rumbling groan in the back of his throat to unequivocally communicate his weariness at this conversation. "Oh, come on, Iggy. I'll even add something in it for you this time. Sweeten the deal."

"Oh, very, well," Ignis sighed in mock exasperation, "but my concession is more due to curiosity for what you could have _possibly_ included for my benefit than a desire to continue answering these."

"So . . . would you rather have your hair turn into chocobo feathers every time you had a dirty thought, or have all your farts come out as the Ebony commercial jingle?"

"How . . . _kind_ of you to include me."

"Well?"

He didn't need a moment to consider. "Though capable of controlling both my thoughts and bodily functions, I would say the latter."

"Then we'd know if it's you that keeps farting," Noct accused. "Swear I could _taste_ that last one with the windows rolled up."

"As I have assured you before, it isn't, but I note you haven't yet weighed in on this most important issue of state, Highness."

Ignis didn't need to look up at the rearview mirror to imagine Noct's shrug. "Dunno. The uhh . . . farting thing, I guess?"

"Same here," Prompto agreed. "Can't imagine what it'd be like chatting up a girl and your hair turns into a chocobo butt."

Gladio barked out a laugh. "Your hair _already_ looks like a chocobo butt. But I'll take that one. It'd send a pretty clear message where I stand in a conversation. Better than, 'Black enough to keep you up all night' playing every time you rip one."

"Not all scenarios would be that direct," Laura pointed out. "What if you were recalling a hookup from the night previous in a meeting? Either option takes self-discipline. The question becomes whether you can better control your mind or your body."

Gladio turned in his seat and gave Laura a wicked grin. "Oh yeah, and which is it for you?" he asked, his tone dripping with innuendo, "your mind or your body?"

"Oh, I don't think you're capable of handling Lliamérian sexuality, babe, but let's just say I'd choose the same as you—for the opposite reason."

"So _you're_ the one who keeps farting!" Noct exclaimed.

"I most certainly am _not_."

But Ignis had tuned the conversation out in favor of his racing thoughts at her answer. He never would have guessed it the day he'd left Insomnia, but Laura had been right when she'd accused him of being narrow-minded. How many times would he be caught making assumptions based on his limited experience as an Insomnian and a human? He hadn't considered for a moment that her species' mating practices could be so entirely different that he may be physically incapable of courting her. Stepping back from the situation for a moment, he surmised that she would likely require telepathic stimulation, which he was of course incapable of providing. And as a member of an immortal species, it made biological sense that she would either possess an extremely low sexual drive or a very narrow fertility window.

The former would certainly spell an immediate end to his dubious foolish fancies.

And yet . . . certainly there was no harm in continuing as planned, was there?

The sign for the junction of Norduscae and Cauthess Highways whipped by, and Ignis glanced down at the clock. Having successfully thwarted four attempts to stop at tourist traps like "Sheep on a Roof" and "World's Largest Jetty's Bottle" with Gladio's assistance, they were making decent time today and would likely reach Lestallum by late afternoon or early evening should they take a quick detour now.

"Seeing as we're near, why don't we make a stop at the Disc of Cauthess today?" he asked in a break in the conversation, which had somehow shifted to the subject of what women _really_ stored in their handbags. "I've always wanted to see the meteor of legend."

"Yeah, sounds good," Noct said. "Figured we'd be stopping there anyway when you asked the other day."

Ignis eyed Gladio, who displayed a distinct lack of any sort of reaction. "Of course, we could always go another time should you object . . .."

Gladio sighed and leaned into the door, rubbing his palm over his face. "Go ahead. I kinda figured this would happen anyway."

Ignis frowned at Gladio's tone. Knowing he had waited two weeks since the Fall to see his sister, he should have brought up the idea for this silly little adventure of his another day. He should have realized that even a few hours' delay would be more than an inconvenience, even if Gladio had just spoken to her this morning and had been reassured that all was as well as it could be. All this time spent out in the wild was clearly making him careless. He opened his mouth to retract the suggestion, but Gladio cut him off before he could speak.

"Naw, don't do that. I can see it on your face, Ig. You never ask to go anywhere. Iris can wait another couple of hours—as long as we get there today. Told her we'd be gettin' there by tonight."

"Are you certain you wouldn't mind the delay?"

"It's good, man. Not like I haven't wanted to see the meteor too, you know. Who could turn down the opportunity to see a god in the flesh? I mean, besides the one we got in the back seat," he replied with a grin and a thumb over his shoulder.

"Oh bloody hell, not you too," Laura moaned.

"Think he was talking about me, Laura," Noct said, and Prompto let out a half-giggle, half-choke that forced Ignis to glance briefly behind him to check after his health.

"Oh yeah? And what would you be the god of?" Gladio chuckled. "Sleep or laziness?"

"Why not both?"

Prompto still hadn't quite recovered his breath, but he still managed to wheeze, "Well what're we supposed to think? You're immortal. You got all this power. You're pretty much like the Six but with . . . I dunno, time and space or something."

"Yeah, I get it. And you're not the first. Just don't start worshipping me, for frack's sake. I'd hate to have to kick your asses after all we've been through. Plus, the statues people make when you're a goddess are terribly unflattering. There was only one that I liked."

"Don't think you're in any danger there," Noct said. "I mean, you've seen how they treat me, right?"

"Yeah, well, we might start worshipping you if you'd learn to cut your own meat," Gladio said.

Noct leaned forward to punch Gladio's shoulder. "I've got a sword that says I can cut my own meat just fine, thanks."

Ignis cut into the conversation before it drifted too far from Laura's last statement, as it so often seemed to before he could get a question in. "So you truly are worshipped as a goddess in some places?"

At his words, the cabin of the car grew silent—eerily silent with the top up today due to the inclement weather. He could almost physically feel the hesitation radiating from Laura in the back seat and looked into the rearview mirror to see for himself. He couldn't find her face, however, because she had just leaned forward between the seats.

"Yeah," she said quietly, "but certainly without my permission. I told you; I don't want that."

He glanced over, noting her troubled expression, and smiled to reassure her. "I was merely curious as to what appellations they may have given you."

She took a few seconds to respond, likely to determine whether the "color of his mind," as she called it, would indicate that he was about to pull the car over and genuflect at her feet. He would, of course, if she ordered it, even if her status had merely been that of mortal monarch. She may not have been his queen, but she had certainly earned his respect with all they had endured since leaving the city.

But as she'd stated only a second ago and several times before, any sort of worship or obeisance from him was not what she wanted, and so he would do his best to be himself around her despite the fact that every second of his upbringing still screamed against the practice.

Of course, "himself" apparently possessed an appalling lack of manners as of late, including this intense curiosity that drove him to ask such impertinent questions about her history. He'd been allowing his curiosity, irritation, and amusement with her to reflect in his behavior, a practice which oddly appeared to delight her, yet that release seemed to have affected his interactions with the others, as though he could no longer hold back the dam of the shockingly uncouth personality that was apparently lying in wait beneath his finely-honed patience and gentility. He didn't believe the others had noticed yet, but he needed to be more careful in the future.

"Well, there's a statue of me in the British Museum as the Goddess Fortuna, but I'm not certain that counts. A friend made that to complete a time loop. Still, I was 'is Goddess Fortuna," she said softly, a wistful smile pulling at her lips and crinkling the corners of her eyes, ". . . tha' or just 'is lucky pants."

"What," he replied flatly, somewhat bewildered at the sudden turn the conversation had taken toward undergarments.

She sighed. "I suppose the information you're looking for is the Goddess of Time, Bad Wolf, Avatar of Time, Mother Wolf, Sun Goddess, Golden Mother, Goddess of Life, the Rising Sun, Goddess of the Dawn . . . a thousand names, all the same basic concept—the sun, which brings life, light, and time. The wolf stuff's just . . . incidental."

"Well, you're in luck, Princess," Gladio said with a smirk. "We don't got one of those here, so the position's open if you want it."

"I'm not so sure about that. The planet's named Eos, after all . . . hang on, did you say, 'in the flesh'? You mean your gods actually walk around on the planet with you?"

"Uh, yeah. Sometimes," Prompto said. "Like, Titan's standing under that meteor in the Disc of Cauthess right now. Caught it falling outta the sky—" he made a descending whistling and crashing sound to emphasize his point, "—and saved the world!"

"Yes, the Archaean has amassed a titanic following, particularly in the region of Duscae, due to his heroic feats," Ignis said. "It should be interesting to see how their worship reflects in the culture as compared to Insomnia."

"Is it only the Church of Bahamut in Insomnia, Specs?" Noct asked.

Ignis let out a quiet sigh and shook his head. "No, Highness. The Temple of Titan lies in the base of the Norwester Mountain Range. The entire district is a monument to the Landforger's powers, as it is set deep into the rock."

"This actually explains a lot about your attitude, and why you all weren't more shocked at my not being human," Laura said. "Interaction between man and god is a _thing_ on your world."

Her voice held a peculiar note he'd never heard before—it almost sounded like an adult poorly attempting to hide their disapproval from a child. He didn't care for it or whatever it might have implied.

"Not precisely," Ignis corrected, though he was unsure what, exactly, he was defending. "With the supposed exception of the Glacian, the astral bodies of the gods have slumbered since the War of the Astrals. Even the Archaean's body lies hidden and slumbering beneath the meteor."

"S'posed to be able to see his toenail poking out though," Prompto said.

Gladio scoffed. "Probably just a story the locals tell to sell souvenirs."

"If they're asleep, then what do humans hope to gain from worship?" Laura asked.

"The gods speak to us and carry out their will through divine messengers. As it is the Oracle's duty to speak to the divine on behalf of the people, so is it the Messengers' duty to speak to the people on behalf of the divine, though admittedly, the majority of even that communication has been channeled through the Oracle as of late."

"S'posed to be twenty-four of 'em," Gladio said. "Which would make Lady Lunafreya a busy girl indeed."

"Six gods, twenty-four Messengers, so four Messengers per god?" Laura asked.

Ignis nodded. "So we assume. There is much speculation surrounding Messengers and their powers. I've even come across questionable sources which imply the existence of Messengers with powers the Astrals don't possess, such as the power of wind. The three known to accompany Lady Lunafreya have not revealed their powers and thus what deity they serve. One of whom you've met."

It wasn't exactly widely-known to anyone outside the King's closest advisors that Carbuncle was a Messenger said to guard House Caelum, so Ignis chose not to reveal this information, as it would skirt too close to Noct's very personal journey and brush with death.

"Ahh, the dog," Laura said, much to Ignis's surprise.

"How'd you know?" Noct asked.

"He's immortal, but I believe, like me, his body can be killed."

"Uhh . . . actually, I don't think so," Prompto interjected. "I took care of Umbra's little sister when she was a puppy."

"And who says Messengers aren't capable of appearing any age they wish?"

"Huh . . . yeah, you've got a point there, I guess. Whoa . . . so I had an _immortal_ dog in my house, and I didn't even know it? That's mindblowing!"

As Ignis rounded the corner, a flash of garish green stood out among the copse of trees just beyond the road's shoulder, and knowing that the Prince would want to pull over to help, automatically began searching for a safe spot to park the Regalia. After their experience that first day out on the road in Leide, they had made it their mission that no one should suffer as they had, which was particularly fortunate, as many of the citizens they came across had neither the manpower to push their vehicle to civilization nor the good sense to simply walk to the nearest settlement. They had taken to keeping several repair kits in the trunk for such common occurrences, and should the damage prove too extensive for Laura and Prompto to fix on site, they had Cindy's private number to call for towing.

Judging by his brief assessment as they'd passed, Ignis surmised that if the driver were still alive, they would need to call the tow truck today.

"Hey Ignis, can you pull over for a sec?" Noct asked.

"Certainly," Ignis replied, pulling onto a wide stretch of grassy shoulder.

"Something wrong?" Gladio asked, looking up from his book.

"Think someone needed help back there," Noct answered. "Let's go check it out."

Prompto jumped out of the car and stretched his arms to the sky. "Noct to the rescue!" he exclaimed, dropping his hands to drum against the roof of the car.

"Do take care not to dent the Regalia," Ignis sighed wearily. He did his best not to eye the cloudy fingerprints smudged around the door handles and the roof above the doors as he headed toward the gap between the twisted metal bars that had once served as the guardrail.

For once, their quarry wasn't difficult to track. They followed the whining, grinding sound of an engine in distress and the tire tracks set deep into the mud until they reached the crash site buried in the trees. The mint green Benbow Wartburg had clearly been driven right off the road at a high speed before car's forward momentum had been halted by one of the towering Duscaean pines growing in a dense grove nearby. Ignis couldn't even spot any evidence of the driver having attempted to stop. The crash had to have occurred recently, as the rear tires were still spinning and squealing, kicking up muck in the muddy ditches they had dug.

As they hurried toward the driver's side window, Ignis spotted a man from over the tops of Prompto's, Noct's, and Laura's heads—mid-forties, balding, but dark-haired. He was unconscious, his head lolled to the side against the window and a black bruise almost pulsating under the skin of his temple.

"We gotta help him!" Prompto cried out. "Get a potion."

Noct summoned a potion and made to fling the door open, but Laura slapped a hand hard against the window.

"No!"

"We gotta help this guy before he dies!" Noct argued, his voice rising in anxiety.

"Look at him, Noctis."

Gladio leaned over the three blocking the door and inspected the unconscious man. "Looks like he's got a pretty bad concussion. We gotta help him now before a potion won't cure him."

"A potion isn't going to cure him." She stared down at the stranger, her hand still spread across the window. "I didn't know this was even possible. Oh god, I'm sorry. I am _so_ sorry."

Ignis moved in closer for a better look. From their experience out in the field, he knew that Laura was unfamiliar with the limitations of their healing magic. He couldn't see how she could possibly know with such certainty that whatever injury the man had incurred couldn't be cured with anything they had in their armiger.

"Pardon me," he said to Prompto with a light touch to his shoulder.

When Ignis could see the man clearly, he saw that his injuries extended far beyond the bruise at his temple. Beneath his beaded necklace of several different types of polished stones, another viciously purple patch of skin seemed to beat in time with what looked like his pulse. But on closer inspection, Ignis noticed the distinct pattern of veining across the bruises, which meant they weren't bruises at all. Those patches were literally pulsating as though something were coming alive beneath his skin.

He'd seen photos and read descriptions of such symptoms once or twice in reports from the Council's secret contacts with Tenebrae—when Lady Lunafreya was performing her duties as Oracle.

"That's Starscourge. Only the Oracle can heal him of that. He'll soon disappear." Leaning forward to look down into the window, he pointed at the man's hand, which was releasing a gaseous purple substance into the air. "Look. Already his hand is turning to vapor."

Laura spun to face him, her expression inexplicably furious. " _That's_ Starscourge?!"

He nodded. "We may be the first to witness a man disappear from the disease."

"No, we _won't_ ," she said harshly, slapping at the window. "Fuck!"

"I've learned from experience that it's a very _bad_ thing indeed when you use that word."

The last time she'd been so free with profanity, the consequences of the situation had reached back twelve years into his life. But he felt he knew her well enough now, could read her well enough, that he feared whatever she was so angry about would be far more devastating than a single child misplaced in time.

"You don't need to be a telepath to make the connection. Why has no one figured this out yet? Seriously, does no one on this planet do scientific research? Look at him!"

Ignis considered arguing that he'd only just a few days ago told her that science and religion were quite literally two warring factions on their world—it was why researchers like Dr. Yeagre were viewed more as eccentric curiosities by outlanders and suspicious threats by the people of the capital—but he refrained and obeyed.

"Where have you seen that black substance before?" she demanded.

Ignis leaned in closer to inspect the man's temple, chest, and hand. There was nothing familiar about the black patches of skin beyond that which he'd already reported, but his hand . . . there was something eerily familiar about that black and purple vapor—the way it seemed to float on the air and melt into the floorboards as though it had a will of its own, the way it stained all it touched with ink as dark as the pits of hell he'd seen it in before. If he concentrated, he could almost imagine the malevolence pouring from it. He could almost smell the freshly-laid tar and dust that made him want to sneeze every time they were in close quarters with the creatures that exuded this vapor.

"Every time a daemon appears or is killed." As the further implications of his answer caught up with him, he did his best to restrain the horror in his tone. "Are you implying that people aren't simply disappearing; they're transforming into daemons?"

"Shit. This is why we've seen so many abandoned cars on the side of the road," Gladio realized. "It must happen fast once the symptoms start."

"We've seen a lot of animals smoking like that, too," Prompto added. "So it's the Starscourge making 'em act all weird?"

"There's no doubt that's what's happening; I can feel his mind becoming more daemon-like," Laura answered. "Not sure about the animals. There aren't any reports of them disappearing, and I've never felt anything so detailed as this from one."

"So there's nothing we can do?" Noct asked, grimacing down at the unfortunate soul lying unconscious in the revving car in front of them.

"There's nothing we can do for him. We can't even open the door. I don't know how Starscourge spreads, and I'm guessing you don't either, or people wouldn't be catching it."

"Umm . . ."

Ignis shook his head. "As I told you before, it is only with religious zeal beginning to cool that people are beginning to turn to science. It doesn't help that Niflheim is seen as the enemy and yet is the forerunner in all scientific advancement in the last hundred years—not that the outlands possess the wealth or technology to look into such things, obviously."

The consequences of these conclusions were too horrible to imagine. All this time, they'd been killing formerly innocent subjects of the Crown? If MTs were daemons as Laura had claimed, were they also exterminating innocent citizens of Niflheim—victims of either fate or twisted experimentation? They'd had little choice in the matter, but what did that mean for the population of Lucis, of all of Eos?

If the daemon infestation and Starscourge were, in fact, one in the same, then another piece of the puzzle of Noct's destiny had just been put in its place—the timing of which infuriated him.

Ignis had encountered evidence of Insomnia's willful ignorance of the state of the world several times since he'd left home, but this was too much for him to excuse. The Starscourge had existed since the War of the Astrals, and though it had been set dormant by the First Oracle and the Founder King soon afterward, it had always been known that the prophesied King of Light would purge it and all other darkness from their planet for good when the time came. Why had no one from Lucis discovered the truth of this illness as soon as they'd learned it had resurfaced almost three decades ago? Why had they been left in the dark about _everything_?

He let out a long sigh. There was nothing that could be done about it now. Their issue lay with the man who desperately needed their assistance in the present moment.

"I've studied every report written on the subject; what little research has been done on the scourge has yielded no actionable results. You are correct. He could be contagious in this halfway state, and we wouldn't know until it was too late."

"So what do we do?" Noct asked.

The innocent question shot a spear of helplessness through Ignis. What did they do, indeed? He hadn't a clue, and the boy that was somehow supposed to solve this very issue didn't either. It was Ignis's responsibility to have all the answers, and when the King of Light looked up at him with those desperate, frightened eyes, he could only look to Laura to keep from scowling with disgust for his own unpreparedness.

And she could likely feel it leaking from him, poisoning the air around him and with his own uselessness. One of Noct's subjects lay mere feet from them in urgent need of assistance, and he could think of no solution for easing his burden.

It seemed Noct wasn't the only one ill-prepared to take on his role.

Her eyes met his—mourning, desperately sad—but she shook her head minutely as though he had voiced his thoughts aloud and she was seeking to silently communicate her vehement denial of them.

Which, of course, brought him no comfort.

"I think our way forward is pretty clear," Laura finally answered, her voice as bleak as he felt. She let her eyes drift back toward the man and brought a hand up to absent-mindedly finger at the pendant around her neck. "Given the choice between being killed or becoming a daemon, which would you choose?"

"Talk about the shittiest game of _Would You Rather_ ever," Prompto muttered.

"I'd rather die," Gladio said immediately, and with differing levels of hesitation, Noct and Prompto nodded their agreement.

"Agreed," Ignis added firmly.

There was absolutely no doubt in his mind which fate he would rather suffer, but how could they kill the man without opening the door or breaking the glass? Perhaps her magic could accomplish the feat where theirs could not.

Laura pulled herself straight, lifted her chin to the sky, and closed her eyes. She let out a single long breath before turning to Noct.

"Your Majesty—" Noct goggled at the formal address—the first time in his life he'd been referred to with the honorific of a king and not a prince. "Speaking as emissary of the late King Regis, I, Laura Ni'annen, Queen of Palomia, do formally request permission to euthanize one of your subjects, who has committed no crime, from outside this vehicle in order to safeguard the health of the King, his Sword-Sworn, and additional subjects of Lucis."

Noct's expression grew serious and determined—and its appearance when the darkness of their ignorance still threatened to overwhelm Ignis shined like a ray of hope. It was a rare expression for the Prince—no, the King. He looked so much like his father in those rare moments he seemed to understand the gravity of the mantle that had been placed upon him that Ignis couldn't help but believe without reservation that this young man would one day become a most capable king, that he was King Regis's very competent son, destined for greatness.

Ignis needed the reminder now and then. If they were to succeed in this venture, the both of them needed to become more, but they would get there.

"Will it put you at risk?" Noct asked.

"No," Laura replied. "This requires no energy, and it will be as quick and painless as possible for him."

But Ignis knew her too well. Before Noct could respond, he interrupted. "And what about you? Will this be just as quick and painless for you?"

"Good god, you're a pain in the ass," she muttered on a sigh, but an amused smile played on the corners of her lips. "Physically, no, not at all."

And that was all she had to say—because Ignis knew from what she'd no doubt intentionally left out that it would hurt her emotionally. But this was something he couldn't protect her from. They all did things every day that hurt them emotionally, almost without a thought these days. He looked to Noct, who was watching him as though he knew exactly what had just happened and was waiting for his opinion on the matter. Ignis gave him a single sharp nod, and Noct shifted his gaze to Laura.

"You have my permission. Do it," Noct commanded.

Laura turned back to the car, raising her glassy eyes to the sky before allowing them to fall closed. A muscle twitched in her jaw as she clenched her teeth. Ignis recalled only too well the price she had paid for healing him, and he wondered with a shiver of concern at the full scope of what she had just offered to do.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He felt something glance against his wrist and looked down to see that Laura had reached out to grasp at the cuff of his blazer with two fingers, almost as though she hoped he wouldn't notice. He twisted his hand so he could entwine his fingers with hers, hoping the others wouldn't see this public display, but not truly caring if they did. He knew he'd done the right thing when he felt her fingers squeeze his tightly.

Her long black lashes fluttered as she took in a small, shuddering breath, and Ignis's attention shot to the man's body when it went rigid. Eerie eyes popped open wide to reveal inky black sclera and muddy yellow irises for only a second before the man went limp and fell back into the door. As though the disease were an entity aware that its host had expired, the purple and black bulging veins sunk into the man's skin to a resemble a more natural bruise, and the vapor undulating above his hands melted into the floorboards at his feet. The grinding whine of the car's motor ceased as the man's foot slipped from the gas pedal. It idled with a thick, throaty sound a few times before it choked a final breath and went silent.

There had been no words. There was no silver light. She had killed a man with merely a thought.

It was almost laughable now—thinking that he could have protected Noct with nothing more than a dagger the day Insomnia fell and he'd been uncertain of her loyalties. She could have killed them all that day without summoning a blade or even uttering a sound.

Laura opened her eyes and stared at Noct with a vacant expression. "We need to get out of here," she said coldly.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Let's go."

Ignis gave her hand a final squeeze of support before letting go and heading toward the car, but a soft utterance made him turn.

"Angulócë ithīr."

A flash of blinding silver fire obscured his vision, but when the magic in the air cleared, Laura was strolling almost casually away from the now empty car.

"Thank you," she whispered as she passed.

Ignis allowed himself a final glance at what felt like the scene of a crime before following her back to the Regalia.

"You shouldn't bear the burden alone. As you've been told before, this isn't your war," he said softly, reaching over Noct to open the rear door for her, "though you should have forewarned us about the additional magic. Will you be all right?"

"Couldn't leave him there to infect others," she said flatly, slipping inside and sliding across the seat. "And I can sleep on the way to Lestallum and tonight. I'll be fine."

Ignis settled in the driver's seat and waited for the other three to shut their doors, still reeling from his rude awakening earlier—the weight of the future that loomed before them and just how little they had been prepared for this, just how little Lucis itself had prepared for this.

Unlike many of his Lucian contemporaries, Ignis took a more moderate stance on the balance between science and religion, maintaining a healthy respect and deference for the gods and kings that watched over them while firmly believing in man's fundamental necessity and right to cast aside superstition and seek knowledge in all its forms. As with every aspect of his personality, he kept these inclinations to himself—not only because he wasn't so egotistical as to believe his opinion mattered to anyone, but also because he would have been met with a great deal of resistance in the royal court should it be known that the future administration took a stronger stance on the need for science and research than even the current one.

The last thing Noct would have needed was accusations of going the way of Niflheim, particularly with his bride paradoxically representing the world's most religious figure hailing from Niflian-occupied territory.

But the time for keeping quiet about these things had long passed.

"Prompto," Ignis began, twisting to meet his eye directly, "Noct mentioned once that your parents were researchers. What did they research, precisely?"

His suspicions were confirmed when Prompto's eyes went wide and flickered briefly toward Noct before settling back on him. "Uh . . . I dunno, actually. They said it was something to do with DNA for the Royal Science Institute and not to tell anyone. Bet you can guess why."

"Yes, I can," Ignis answered, stifling his disappointment at the lack of information, but he was hardly surprised. The creation of the secretive RSI twenty years ago had caused a great stir among the Insomnian population, many of whom had quietly accused King Regis of blaspheming the gods and descending into sin as Niflheim had.

"But there's something I don't get," Prompto added, looking over at Laura. Her empty eyes were fixed on the console, seemingly millions of miles away, but she looked up when Prompto elbowed her side. "If it's that easy to kill someone, why bother with the swords? Why not just kill everybody that way?"

"Because telepathic warfare in a world of apaths is an abomination," she answered in a dead voice. "Because I'm not a god."

Her declaration was the final sound uttered as Ignis started the car and drove them to Cauthess in contemplative silence.

* * *

Ignis lifted his face toward the window, grateful for the heavy breeze floating through the open window in the living room of their stuffy suite at the Leville. His attention caught on the gauzy white curtain fluttering and catching on the arm of the enormous black couch that dominated the room, which would be serving as Laura's bed for the duration of their stay. In the courtyard below the open windows and balcony, a group of musicians were pounding out an upbeat, exotic-sounding rhythm completely at odds with the atmosphere in the room, and Ignis could hear a large group forming what would likely end up a block party by the end of the night.

He settled in one of the low, black wingback armchairs across from the couch, crossing his legs and leaning on one of the wings with an outstretched elbow. It felt _good_ not to be stuck in one position for hours on end jammed into that car, luxurious though it was. It appeared Gladio felt the same, because he groaned as he stepped over the back of the other chair and fell into it, slouching and rubbing absent-mindedly at his stomach. Noct sighed as he and Prompto each took a section of the couch.

Laura sat straight and prim in the remaining corner, looking almost lost.

She'd been empty and silent since their encounter with the infected man, the elation that graced her expression every time they arrived somewhere new conspicuously absent. He hadn't realized how much he took pleasure in that luminescent smile that would light up her face before she would disappear— only to return, tugging on his hand to pull him off on some grand adventure she'd discovered. Tonight, he would return the favor somehow and light that spark in her again, even if only for a moment.

On the slim hope that he had received a text and hadn't felt it buzz, he pulled out his mobile and checked the screen—clear of notifications, of course. The Marshal had forewarned them that he would be difficult to contact after their operation at the blockade, but their own mission was stalled until he got back to them, and Ignis was interested to hear his thoughts on what they had discovered at the Disc of Cauthess.

They hadn't gotten the chance to see for themselves whether it was true that one could spot a single toenail of the Archaean's right foot peeking out from underneath the meteor. Another imperial installation had blocked the road leading to the site, which Ignis found troubling. Why had the Empire set up the Norduscaean blockade and then made no effort to stop them breaking through it? Why had they allotted so few resources to tracking down the heir to the throne they had just destroyed and yet set up a base to guard a site that had remained unchanged for the last two thousand years?

Though still waiting for an answer from the Marshal on a more precise location for the Sword of the Wanderer than "near Loch Thriocess," Ignis had forwarded his report along with his questions in the hopes he would gain more insight from the man dedicated to determining the Empire's aim.

"At least we know Luna made it okay," Prompto said heavily.

Noct kept his eyes fixated on the floor. "Yeah," he said in a small, choked voice. "Wish she would've waited, though. Or sent Umbra to me."

"Doubtless she's been sent on an errand of her own as the Chosen Oracle, now that events are moving apace," Ignis suggested, though the idea of Lady Lunafreya roaming Lucis as they were, except alone, concerned him greatly. "I'm certain she'll be in touch as soon as she's able."

He knew from personal experience that a traditional royal upbringing in a uniquely public service role tended to forge and iron will and nerve of steel, but Ignis had also observed from media coverage and the few glimpses into the diary Noct had allowed him that Lady Lunafreya was an enormously kind, compassionate, and gentle woman, likely sheltered from at least this particular brand of hardship. He could only hope that her Messengers would watch over her during her journey, though no report they'd heard since arriving in Lestallum had mentioned them.

They hadn't needed to hear Lady Iris's recounting of events to know that Lady Lunafreya had arrived in Lestallum five days ago, only to immediately leave for parts unknown. The subject of her visit in the city had been gossiped about in hushed, excited tones at café tables, over clothing lines stretched between windows overlooking narrow alleys, and between grill carts loaded with fragrant street meat. When they had arrived at the Leville to be greeted by Lady Iris at the base of the stairs, they had hoped she might have met with Lady Lunafreya, or at the very least, learned what circumstances had led to her presence in Insomnia during the Fall. Not only had they learned that Lady Lunafreya had left Lestallum before word of her arrival had spread, but they learned very little new information regarding the Fall itself, despite Iris's firsthand account.

Even if her vague descriptions left something to be desired, Ignis had trouble quashing that stubborn surge of hope that had reared up when she mentioned that many of the outlying neighborhoods had made it through in one piece. The moment she had left for the suite she was sharing with Talcott and his grandfather Jared to change for dinner, he had immediately stepped out onto the balcony to phone his uncle, slim though his chances were anyone would answer.

To no avail. He would just have to track down his parents the hard way when this was over, but their chances were good they had survived the initial attack, at least.

"I just wanna relax tonight. Do something stupid and pointless," Noct sighed, leaning forward to stare between his shoes. "Feel like it's been one thing after another lately."

"Yeah," Prompto agreed. "Hey, I got an idea!"

"Ugh," Gladio groaned.

Prompto shot Gladio an injured look. "I was just gonna say we should do something fun tonight. Ya know? Kick back a little."

"We _should_ be speaking with the locals and picking up information on bounties," Ignis pointed out. He had checked his book the evening previous, and though their financial situation was stable his frugality, their stay in Lestallum would put a sizeable dent in that solvency.

"Come on, Specs," Noct cajoled. "Didn't you see all the posters on the way here? There's like, a million hunts here. We got time before they all get snatched."

"Yeah, who's funding all these hunts, anyway?" Gladio asked. "There's more listed here than all the other towns combined."

Ignis raised an eyebrow at him. "Who else outside Insomnia with the motive to clear the area of animals gone mad would be wealthy enough to set this number of bounties throughout all of Lucis?"

"Damned if I know. Meldacio? Wait . . . they gotta be based here in Lestallum since there's so many here."

"EXINERIS. Almost everyone in the outlands pays for and relies on their services in order to live through each night, and they in turn employ the Hunters to exterminate the animals and daemons attacking thousands of miles of lines that stretch over the continent. A bounty system stirs competition and is cheaper to maintain than a pool of employees."

"EXINERIS possesses the real power in Lucis—not the monarchy _or_ the Empire," Laura stated flatly. "The plant is owned by a collective of engineers, but from what I overheard, they keep a low profile."

"And this is all really fascinating," Noct cut in, "but . . . tonight?"

Gladio stood from his chair and rubbed at the bristle on his chin. "It'd be better if we split up anyway. Iris and I've got a lot to talk about."

"It should be safe enough as long as we all stay well within the city limits," Ignis replied, casting a stern glance at Noct.

Noct raised his hands in the air. "Hey, I've had enough trouble. I'll behave, I swear."

"See that you do. I'm gonna go get Iris. See you guys later." Gladio gave a small, two-fingered salute before heading out the door.

"Cool! So you wanna go check out the arcade we saw?" Prompto asked, scooting to the edge of the couch cushion. "Bet it's nothing like home, but it's been forever since we got some _real_ game on."

"Hell yeah!" Noct cheered, jumping from his seat and almost bouncing toward the door. Prompto leapt to his feet to follow, but Ignis's attention lingered on Laura, who hadn't moved.

Ignis didn't really consider a night at the arcade the best way to unwind. He had spent a few evenings at Noct's preferred arcade in Insomnia and tolerated the flashing lights and constant barrage of noise for the Prince's sake. He had even joined in a time or two at Noct's and Prompto's urging, but never again after he'd easily mastered many of their favorites and wound up placing his initials above theirs on all the high score lists.

But it had been months since Ignis had seen Noct this animated, and if the arcade was what he wished to do this evening, he would, of course, accompany him without complaint. He stood and began to follow, but Noct reached the open doorway and turned to face him

"No way. You hate the arcade, Specs. You and Laura can go find a bookstore and fight about . . . I dunno, metaphysics—or whatever you guys do for fun."

 _More_ leisure time? He'd had quite enough of this behavior, and tonight would be the night it ended.

"I wonder if your objection perhaps stems from personal interest," Ignis challenged.

But instead of laughing and declaring a war involving every game the hole-in-the-wall arcade possessed, Noct's expression grew grave. He stepped forward to lean in close. "Just get that look off her face."

So—that had been his aim, stemmed not from pity for him but concern for Laura. For once, his and Noct's goals were one in the same, and though a part of him protested the offer of yet more time off, he _had_ just been given a direct order to accomplish the very objective he had in mind this evening.

"I'm only too happy to oblige, Highness," he said with a nod.

Noct grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah, you poor thing." Then, in a louder voice, he added, "See you guys later," and threw a casual wave over his shoulder before disappearing out into the hall with Prompto.

He closed the door behind them and settled back into his armchair, taking the opportunity to study his remaining companion. She had shifted to her side on the couch cushion and was now staring blankly out the window behind her. Her blank expression troubled him. He didn't think it wise that she spend the evening alone after the events of the day, yet it was possible she wished to be alone. Command or no, he'd give her the choice, just as she'd always done for him. If she refused his company, he could still carry out his orders by finding some other way to get that look off her face—perhaps by cooking supper for her.

"I hope you didn't think that you were obligated to spend the evening with me. I'm not exactly known for being the life of the party," he said with a self-deprecating smile. "But, if you're interested, we could perhaps find something to do."

She looked over and gave him a slow, close-lipped smile, and for just a moment, it almost seemed to reach her eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous. You know very well I'd love to spend the evening with you. Did you have anything particular in mind?"

"I imagine dinner should be involved at some point. Lestallum has become home to many cultures seeking stability or refuge from war, so it reflects a veritable melting pot in its cuisine. There's quite a lot to choose from. Or I could cook for us, if you would prefer something more familiar."

"You'll most certainly do no such thing," she chastised, a spark of heat igniting in her expression. "Your cooking is wonderful, but you need a night off too. We're going to eat out just like everyone else, and then—" She glanced out the window and took a deep breath before turning back to him, and her entire face had, for some Astrals-unknown reason, transformed into a glittering smile. Apparently, his mission was already complete this evening, and he hadn't done a thing. "—then you're going to let me help you with combat."

He had expected her to say something mad. Perhaps, 'And then we're going to dance with the talking trees in the main square' or 'And then we're going to fling ourselves off Pegglar Outlook to be caught by a magical, flying spiracorn and taken on a tour of Eos,' but he supposed this was close enough, as it was just as expected in its unexpectedness, if a bit mundane—though he doubted it would end up being so by the end of the evening. Heavens, how she always managed to tie his mind in knots.

"Are you certain that's what you want to do this evening?"

Her tone held a note of uncertainty. "If it's all right with you."

To be honest, it wasn't what he would have planned for himself had he found the time for a relaxing evening, but he would do anything if it returned that smile to her face. And it wasn't as though he wouldn't wind up having some sort of life changing experience before the evening was out, he was certain.

"Yes, of course it's all right."

He was pleased to see her stand and walk toward the door that led through the kitchenette and into the bedroom with a spring in her step that had been lacking before. He twisted in the chair to watch her, wondering what scheme she was hatching now. "Give me a moment to get changed, and we can go."

"What you're wearing now is perfectly acceptable for dinner," he said as he stood, nodding to her Glaive uniform, "and is of course, suitable for sparring."

When she stopped and turned to him, he had to snap his mouth shut at her expression—lowered head and raised eyes full of fire that he could only describe as predatory.

And he knew. Indeed, somehow, without even leaving their room, it appeared as though she had already come up with some secret plan for him. She must have been lying to flatter him the other day when she said she wasn't a strategist, as this was beyond any skill of stratagem he'd ever possessed. He, after all, had done research on the city as they'd waited for her to recover outside the Norduscaean blockade and hadn't drafted a plan beyond their meal and perhaps a few shops they both might've found intriguing.

"Not for what I have in mind." She started to turn back to open the door but stopped, letting her eyes travel from his shoes to his hair. Instinct enticed him to fidget under her scrutiny, but held himself in check, thrusting his chin level, displaying a strong posture, and holding his gaze neutral.

"Lose the jacket and gloves," she said with a crooked smirk and a wicked expression. "It's hot."

Leaving him to ponder the possibilities in the double meaning of her words, she went through the door without another word.

It _was_ rather warm out that evening, and the air was so thick and stifling with humidity that he felt as though he were walking fully dressed through the steam room at the Crownsguard training facility. Though he would likely still be sweltering in this heat no matter what he wore, he decided to follow her advice and remove his jacket and gloves, rolling up his sleeves while he contemplated his next move this evening.

His audacity had paid off so far, or so he'd thought, but when he considered that any additional moves forward on his part would leave him adrift in uncharted territory with the potential to irrevocably alter the closest friendship he'd ever had with anyone, he realized that he hadn't yet been truly audacious at all. If he was to make his intentions clear, it was inevitable that he would have to close his eyes and fall at some point—to be either accepted or rejected. And with that thought, all the careful cultivation of education his tutors had instilled in him came crashing back to him with a clamorous cacophony—what was he doing? How _dare_ he even consider pursuing her? All his self-declared triumphs thus far, if he were honest with himself, had been no more than what the others had so casually done with her, and they'd been just as happily accepted. So what made him think that he was so special as to dare to ask for more?

And it wasn't just the unworthiness that nagged at him. Ignis knew that while he wasn't completely unfortunate looking, he was too gangly, pale, and bookish. He lacked the dramatic dark coloring of Lucian nobility that made being pale a desirable trait—coloring that Laura herself had despite not being of this world. His entire life, he had tried his best to offset his appearance by ensuring he was always as well put together as possible, and since he was a teenager, as well-built as possible, but there was only so much good style and a rigorous workout regimen could compensate for. It seemed all of Insomnia thought him unattractive, even if not hopelessly so, as evidenced by the fact that many of the Crownsguard and even his own closest friends had seen fit to make light of his inadequacies.

If he pretended for a moment that this was heading in the direction his darkest dreams were hoping for, where would it lead? Did he really expect her to bed him?

A vision shimmered in his mind of her beneath him—skin bared, head thrown back, and mouth open in a gasp as he moved over her—but _gods_ no. He shoved that image away before he could even fully grasp its contents.

He took a slow, cleansing breath to settle his throbbing heart. Clearly, his sex drive wasn't as non-existent as he'd always thought—merely lying dormant. Regardless, _that_ would involve exposing far too much of himself both physically and otherwise—not that he wouldn't be more than willing, because gods damn it, he loved her—but she _surely_ wouldn't want him for all he was and wasn't.

And yet . . . that light in her eyes, the warmth kindling in them when she looked at him, how it always seemed to be him and not one of the others she would sweep off on a grand adventure . . ..

 _Let go. Just let go._

It seemed his head was wrestling his heart tonight, and since his mind was still tied in knots, he didn't know which would wind up winning the contest.

When she reappeared a few minutes later, he didn't even attempt to conceal the shock that settled over his features, allowing his eyes to widen and his mouth to drop open—just a little. That oh-so-familiar feeling of dread laced with anticipation coiled in his belly at her unexpected wardrobe change and what it might mean for him.

She had let her hair down so that it hung to her elbows in ebony waves, and the tips brushed against her forearms as she lowered her head a little to give him that mysterious smile of hers from underneath her lashes. Her top, if it could be given so generous a name, was a vibrant scarlet number that fell off her shoulders to leave her arms and delicate collarbones bare and ended just below her bosom. The matching skirt that sat tantalizingly low on her hips fluttered and sighed down to her feet as the breeze from the window tugged at it, and as she stepped toward him, it floated on the air in such a way that she appeared to be hovering over the tile floor rather than standing like a mere mortal.

What made Ignis feel the need to swallow however, was the expanse of bare skin that lay between the two garments—royally alabaster and luminous and so very femininely curved—a masterpiece sculpture made flesh. The part of his mind that was placing wagers on his heart to win out was glad for the eschewance of his gloves this evening, because it would be a sin committed against the gods not to run his hands over such a divine piece of art.

Gathering his wits, he cleared his throat before saying in a lofty tone, "I seemed to have neglected some important detail in this plan of yours. I was under the impression we were eating and then sparring."

Something soft and warm slipped between his fingers, and he looked down to see that she had taken his limp, bloodless hand in hers to pull him out the door. "Yep, that's the plan. Let's go."

* * *

The Lestallum streets were narrow, oppressively crowded, and cacophonous with music and people, which wasn't terribly different from his usual haunts in Insomnia, only he had spent a month out in the wild with nothing but the wind and the call of his quarry in his ears. Fruit flies stuck to the thin sheen of sweat that had formed on his brows and arms as he maneuvered Laura between laughing couples and large groups carrying on overly-animated conversations. The heat radiating from the deepest part of the meteor crater Lestallum had been built on thickened the stench lingering in the air until it almost became a living entity unto itself. Every block of stalls and buildings possessed its own smell, a stranger inserting himself in Ignis's personal space—burnt-out fuses as they exited the hotel, then overripe fruit, exotic spices, and smoky cloying incense.

The sensory input overwhelmed him—twisting his gut with nausea and yet simultaneously setting his tongue to tingling with anticipation. _Everything_ here was so _new_. He couldn't wait to experiment.

Yet for all that the city was clearly wealthier than any place he'd seen in the outlands, it still showed signs of degeneration and decrepitude. Many of the thick stone buildings—at one point lovingly built and decorated with carved stone architectural flourishes as an act of worship to the artists' deity—were boarded up and beginning to crumble, the bright pastel paint beginning to fade and curl away. How long would it have taken for such evidence of neglect to make itself apparent like this?

He bet it was roughly thirty years.

Without a word of warning, Laura twisted away from his side, moving fluidly through crowded bistro tables to a window set in a decaying pastel pink building, where a dark-skinned man was pouring out small beverages on the sill as quickly as the woman assisting him could line up the small white paper cups. Ignis stepped to the side to remove himself from the current of people and watched Laura flash them both a flirtatious, tongue-touched smile. The three of them had a brief exchange before she flitted back to his side.

"Here. You'll love this. Try it."

Ignis took the tiny paper cup she was holding out to him and peered into it. He knew that color well, as well as the bitter, toasted scent that wafted up on a curl of steam to his overstimulated nose. It could only be coffee. But the thickness of the liquid as he lightly jiggled the cup and the creamy head of foam that floated on the surface was foreign to him, though he had heard of such a concoction making a name for itself in Altissia.

"Espresso?" he asked, holding the cup closer to his face for another appreciative sniff. The flavor almost manifested on the back of his palate as though he'd tasted it—dark, almost chocolatey.

"Close, but not quite."

"That would follow. Many Altissians emigrated to Lucis and brought their culture, even their language, a century and a half ago when the Empire first invaded. You may find this interesting—the Accordion language shifted so quickly in this new region that the two tongues are no longer mutually intelligible. They call it Lestallian."

Her smile widened. "Will you just try it?" she huffed.

"I do hope this isn't some misguided attempt to affect my judgment," he said with a smirk before lifting the cup to his lips.

The thick, slightly sweet, intensely bitter fluid coated his tongue and the roof of his mouth as it slid down his throat. Ignis was famous for his love of strong, bitter coffee, but this was something else entirely. Ebony went down cleanly, smoothly. This was a kick in the teeth that left a lingering film in his mouth. From the ounce of liquid in the cup alone, he could feel it heightening his senses and electrifying his blood to chase away that near-constant haze of fatigue that followed behind his every step.

It was absolutely bloody brilliant.

"Yeah? You like that?"

"It's remarkable."

She took the cup from his hand and entwined their fingers. "I'll teach you to make it later. It involves those complicated machines no one knows how to properly use in all the Crow's Nests. Now where were you taking me to dinner, sir?"

He gestured across El Plaza Vieja to where he could spot a small grouping of dark umbrellas over the heads of the milling people. "Just this way."

Surgate's Beanmine overlooked the main square of Lestallum, which was a bustling hub of activity— women getting off from their shifts at the power plant and unzipping their suits to reveal garments that, frankly, made Laura's seem modest; waiters serving trays and trays of colorful, fruit-garnished cocktails to tables of laughing, shouting people; and men pushing clattering, rickety carts back and forth over the uneven cobblestones.

"Mira!" a man called out, beckoning them toward his pushcart, which seemed to shiver from the sheer number of dangling beaded necklaces hanging off the poles that supported its tiny roof. Ignis had seen similar strings of polished, multicolored stones around the necks of most of the people since they'd left Wiz's and wondered whether it was part of the local tradition to wear one here.

The man swept a hand theatrically over his cart, where nearly a hundred small containers displayed every color of stone he had ever seen in a geology textbook. "All found hidden in meteorshards. Each color has a meaning, a virtue we offer up to our Lord Titan, for he brings us life through his suffering. Twnety-five stones on a string for only five hundred gil—and a pretty present to go around the neck of your beautiful novia, no?"

"Perhaps some other time," he answered.

"Wait! You need protection from daemons?" He pointed to a jar of what looked like small, craggy feet sitting in a jar, their arches curved unnaturally high and curved. "The arches of Titan, recovered from the holy stones formed with his own hands."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ignis spotted two women standing from a bistro table on the corner, and he shifted his hand to Laura's elbow to guide her in the direction of their destination. "Apologies, but we must be going," he said as the vendor's expression fell to a scowl, but the disappointment was short-lived, as he nearly immediately turned to accost another couple walking close behind them.

Ignis paid for the meal Laura helped him choose and sat down at the red-checked table with their food, but before he tucked in, he crossed his legs and sat back for a moment, enjoying the familiar feeling of people watching on a sidewalk café in a large city, even if the rhythm of its beating heart didn't quite align with what he was accustomed to. His dining companion was another unfamiliar note, but a comfortable one. It was almost as though she knew exactly when to be assertive and when to allow him space to explore his own thoughts. He wondered precisely how much telepathy played a role played in her decision, but either way, he was grateful for the way she had scooted forward to nurse her lentil soup with baked plantains and lemon crema—many of the words of which he didn't even recognize—and left him to allow his mind to wander without having to worry about carrying the conversation.

He took the moment of comfortable silence between them to calm himself by taking a few bites his bird-broth rice with curry, dipping a forkful of rice into each of the three sauces one at a time—red, orange, and yellow. As with everything in this vibrantly intense town, the flavors blossomed over his senses, but he thought he recognized a familiar note of Leiden pepper in the red sauce. He paused before taking another bite to analyze the plethora of exotic spices they used in this region and compare the flavor profile against his repertoire of recipes.

"That's it!" he ejected before he could stop himself.

"What's it?" Laura asked, looking up at him.

He felt his cheeks warm a little as he answered more quietly, "Apologies, I've just come up with a new recipe."

As he summoned his notebook and pulled out his fountain pen to take notes, he heard her say over the din of chatting patrons, "Oh yeah? From your meal, or something else? Tell me about it."

When he had finished writing, he blinked up at her in surprise. The others usually humored his habit of creating recipes in the strangest of circumstances, offering to do him the favor of tasting his new creations, but no one had ever asked for more information.

"I was thinking the Leiden pepper in this would pair well with daggerquill breast and Saxham rice."

"I could see that working well," she said thoughtfully. "Like a spicy chicken sort of dish. I bet Prom will love it. He goes nuts for all the spicy things you make. Good idea. Did you get that from the bird broth in the rice and the pepper in the curry?"

"Indeed," he said, looking back down at his notebook. They would have to pick up more rice if he was to make this for the others, which meant an excuse to peruse that market near their hotel sometime very soon. Perhaps she would accompany him.

Then again, after the topic he intended to bring up this evening was discussed, perhaps she wouldn't.

A small palette of vivid colors slid into his line of sight—a brown canvas speckled with green, yellow, white, and orange—breaking him out of his impending morose mood. The only vegetables he recognized were carrots and celery.

"Would you care to try this too?" she asked, nudging the spoon sticking out of the bowl with a finger.

He stared down at the spoon handle. Did she mean for him to eat after her? He wasn't certain about customs here in the outlands or among her own people, but the sharing of utensils was considered a demonstration of trust in Insomnia, an intimate practice akin to kissing a person.

This likely didn't hold the depth of meaning that it did for him, but he took the spoon between his fingers and ladled himself a sample of each of the colors.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

It was a vegetable medley unlike any he had sampled before—hefty and dark, chunky with several different textures, almost soil-like in its graininess, but with a bright sour note that highlighted the spice that built on his own meal.

"Any thoughts?"

"I'm afraid it's a bit too complex to draw inspiration from, but it's delicious."

He set the spoon back in the bowl and pushed it across the table to her, and he did his best to ignore the sight of her taking a bite from the spoon he'd just eaten from. It was high time to have the conversation he'd been dreading for days now. He knew his combat skills were somewhat lacking; he had hardly been the _best_ fighter in the Crownsguard before the Fall, and he was well aware that he tended to get injured more than the others in their group, even more than inexperienced Prompto. This discussion needed to be had, and it was going to be unpleasant no matter how it went. The earlier in the evening they got this out of the way, the more time he would have to turn circumstances around afterward before they returned to the Leville.

"So. We're alone now. Would you care to inform me exactly what is lacking in my combat technique that I need assistance with?"

She grimaced into her soup, and he fought the urge to do the same. That had come out more coldly than intended.

But before he could amend his statement, she said, "Offense wise, there isn't much for me to teach you. You're deadly and swift with your weapons, and you know it. It's actually quite beautiful to watch—"

"There's no need to stroke my ego, I assure you," he interrupted crossly. Surely someone who abhorred coddling as much as she would understand his annoyance at her indirect response? "I can handle the truth without the cushion of flattery."

He couldn't find it within himself to regret the irritation he had sparked with his words, nor the fire that alighted in her eyes as she glared at him

"Let's get one thing straight right now. I don't do false praise. It undermines the veracity of my word in the future and wastes both our time. But if you'd rather me cut to the chase, fine. For the most part, Noctis and Gladio were correct. Your mind is stunning, Ignis, it really is, but you let it rule you far too much in situations where it slows you down. And you're not using your senses to their full potential, including a sense that's common among my people but exceedingly scarce among humans, especially when paired with a mind like yours. If you let me, I can teach you to fight as I do, nearly."

Her answer was certainly tempting enough to distract him from the disappointment that Noct and Gladio had been correct. Had she worded her speech in such a manner deliberately? He decided the conversation would likely go more pleasantly if he took her bait.

"And what sense is that?"

"The five senses you know you have are unbalanced. Should you decide to go this route, we would work to correct that. But the sense I don't see you using at all is your literal sixth sense. You have Intuition, Ignis, the kind they write with a capital letter. And it's what would allow me to teach you how to fight like my people did—again, only if you wish."

"How could I possibly turn down such an offer, knowing what likely lies in store for us?"

"I'm not going to lie; it will probably be the most difficult thing you've ever learned. What I'll be asking of you goes against how human minds are programmed to think their entire lives, and you seem especially entrenched in it. The technique may take you a while to even begin grasping properly. I need you to not get frustrated or self-conscious and keep up with it. Are you in?"

Ignis looked down at his plate and raised a hand to adjust his glasses. While he appreciated her giving him the choice to decline, in his mind, there was no choice to be made.

"Well, you've certainly thrown down the gauntlet. Your challenge is accepted."

The tip of her tongue poked out to touch the top row of her teeth again—his favorite smiles of hers, though the expression still didn't quite match her face. "Very well then, we'll start after we're finished eating."

Ignis let his gaze wander over her bare collarbones, and ever so briefly to the swell of her breasts pressed up close and tight to her body by her undergarments. "You truly plan on engaging in mock battle . . . wearing that?" he asked, raising a single eyebrow at her.

Again, her cobalt eyes turned wicked as she replied, "I didn't say it wouldn't all be fun. You'll find out for yourself soon enough. Patience!"

Setting aside any mental images that may or may not have surfaced at how she might plan on combining combat, one of her wondrous adventures, and _that_ outfit, he relaxed into whatever she had in store for him now that the unpleasantness was behind them. It hadn't gone as badly as he'd expected, and he'd come out of it relatively unscathed with what sounded like a momentous goal and an impossibly valuable reward ahead. He didn't know what she meant by "Intuition," but he would be well familiar with the concept by the time she'd finished with him, he was certain.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

His attention, which had been darting from point to point around the busy square, settled on her—her dark hair contrasting with her porcelain skin and bright scarlet ensemble, a faint flush creeping over her cheeks and down her neck, her eyes bright with that effervescent life he wanted to feel for himself again.

"The very word for which I was searching," he replied under his breath, but as he suspected she would, she heard him. That delicate flush, which he wasn't certain after her explanation the other day was deliberate or not, deepened to turn her skin cream and roses. But he knew statements such as these would hold less weight in the conversation if they appeared casual, if he moved on immediately. "But I worry for what will happen to centers of population like this when matters escalate. The Empire must surely know the people are a valuable pawn in this game of chess we've found ourselves in."

She hummed her understanding. "That's how I saw the world when I first discovered my time sense. Don't do that. The future tends to be nothing but darkness. But I'm not sure the Empire sees these people as anything but a byproduct of war, a burden."

She surveyed the people surrounding them—shopping and laughing and eating as though they hadn't a care in the world, as though their capital city hadn't just fallen almost two weeks previous, as though they weren't currently under the rule of an empire that hadn't yet made its intentions clear now that its rule was no longer pretense.

"I see these people as a beacon, a bastion of light stemming the tide of darkness that looms beyond their borders," she continued in that luminous voice full of wonder. "The audacity it takes to be this full of hope in darkness so utterly complete? Humans, for all their faults and short lifespans, live life so fully, squeezing it all in with passion and love, rage and pain. It's beautiful." She shook her head. "You people will never stop inspiring me."

Ignis was never certain how to respond to her when she commented on his species like this, accentuating the vast differences between them. But it was her differences that intrigued him, her differences that had made him want to take a step closer to the ledge he was still considering leaping from. He couldn't believe he'd neglected to ask her these questions in the Cauthess fields the day after he'd heard her response to Prompto, but she'd swept him off his feet so swiftly and so completely that he'd forgotten.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"You said two things to Prompto the other day that intrigued me. Two physical forms?"

Her gaze dropped to the table, where she began to trace one of the red checks with her finger. "Three, actually, though I can no longer take my first form. As I said, my people evolved to blend in with humans, so on the rare occasion we had offspring, they were born with a human adolescent form to protect them. You should have seen mine," she chuckled down at the table, shaking her head. "I was dirty blonde and brown-eyed and completely unrecognizable from what I look like now."

"I see," he replied, leaning forward and resisting the urge to tap a finger against the edge of his plate, "and this is a human version of your two remaining?"

She picked up the spoon from her bowl and swirled the tip in the thick liquid, watching the different ingredients rise to the top before falling again. "Sort of. When I was twenty-six, I . . . molted, if you will, into my adult body, though that word hardly describes the trauma of the experience. I'd spent all that time believing I was human and had no idea what was happening to me."

He tried to imagine such a thing happening to him with no warning—having something as foundational as his species ripped away, only to ascend to a being of legend. "You must have been so frightened."

"I was, yes. And underneath was my Lliamérian body. My mum was human, but she'd found me in a park as a baby and lied about where I came from . . . my whole life." She shook her head. "You would've figured it out immediately, I'm sure. Both my mum and dad had blue eyes."

"It's not completely impossible, but certainly unlikely," he replied with a frown. "At least one of them would've had to have brown eyes in order for you to have them, or at least a weak form of the allele that produces brown eyes."

"See what I mean?" she chuckled. "Not even my fiancé made the connection, and he was well-versed in genetics and alien lifeforms. He himself was only half-human. But he'd never encountered my species—didn't have a clue what I was, and we were stuck on a xenophobic planet in a parallel universe where aliens were just fiction to the general populace. My own organization . . ."

"They _turned_ on you," he realized in horror. One word echoed in his memory: _vivisections_.

But she evaded his interruption. "We went into hiding for over twenty years; it took us that long to understand enough about my physiology to learn I could even take a human form."

His thoughts caught up him, stuttering for a moment over her mention of being affianced. "What happened to your fiancé, if you don't mind my asking? Are you still betrothed?"

Though he asked the question as casually as he possibly could manage, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Doctor James Noble—or just the Doctor, which was his real name—we married, spent almost a hundred years together, but he was mortal. Lliamérians aren't. He's been dead for thousands of years now, for me."

"Forgive me. I—I shouldn't have asked," he stammered, matching his volume to hers so that it barely rose above the level of the woman telling a raunchy joke at the top of her lungs three tables over.

It seemed that brute chained beneath his manners was similarly making an appearance tonight, dredging up long-dead lovers to their widows in a despicable quest for ammunition with which to earn her favor. The calculating nature of his intentions—each touch, every move, planned and laid out beforehand—seemed suddenly cold, almost cruel, as though he were an assassin leading a victim into a trap rather than simply determining whether the most extraordinary creature in existence shared this feeling or if he was nothing more than a hormonal child.

She had been married for a century before losing the man she loved. Ignis tried to imagine what her life had been like—an immortal surrounded by mortals, with no peer to turn to. This picture of her existence sounded so desperately lonely. He knew that feeling well. Surely, that suggested some basis of commonality between them?

"Hey." A hand slid over the back of his, and he looked up to her eyes full of warmth—full of warmth for him. He turned his palm up to grasp her fingers without a thought. "I may not be forthcoming with every detail of my life, but you should always feel free to ask me what's on your mind. I promise to tell you if I can."

"You may come to regret making that offer one day," he warned, as he didn't believe he would ever tire of asking her questions.

"I don't believe I ever will," she said with a smile, tightening her fingers around his. "What's going on in that incredible mind of yours?"

He pulled his hand back and looked down at the palette of sauces on his plate, but she had to have already seen the flush he could feel creeping up his cheeks.

"Earlier, you said, 'sort of,'" he said, half to change the subject and half because he was sincerely curious. He had an inkling he already knew the answer, however, having often felt her racing pulse and fluctuating skin temperature. "You as you appear now aren't entirely human?"

It seemed to have taken no time at all for her to regret her offer, because her gaze immediately dropped to her lap as soon as he had finished asking. Words to recall the question appeared on the tip of his tongue, but she answered before he could recant.

"As I said, sort of—more of a hybrid between the two. My appearance is human so I can blend in with you all, but my internal physiology is mostly Lliamérian and . . . another species—long story—because it's sturdier. Just had to be careful about not bleeding in front of you guys or keep you from noticing both my hearts beating until you knew what I was. But in my true form? You would still recognize me if you saw me, I think. I hope."

She had avoided looking at him as she'd told him this, but he was nevertheless able to identify the emotion in her eyes and voice immediately—vulnerability. Telling him all this must have been incredibly exposing for someone like her, particularly when he could theoretically panic and raise the alarm at any moment. He supposed that anyone else in his position might have been frightened at the idea that she was capable of becoming something else entirely, but Ignis hadn't fallen for her body, attractive though it was. He was entranced by that light in her eyes and that joy in her heart. So long as those were authentic, he believed he could adapt to anything she said.

The next question drifting from his brain to his mouth might reassure her.

"Would that be something I could see someday?"

The brief smile she gave him before she answered indicated that he'd been correct—for once. "I won't say never, but I can't imagine a scenario in which it would be feasible. It takes a tremendous amount of time and energy to transform. I can't just jump back and forth."

He was disappointed for a moment before he thought of the other subject he wanted to ask her about. He leaned over the table and searched her curious expression.

"Rose," he murmured, and as he expected, her eyes widened a fraction. "You also mentioned you had two names. Your second name was Rose, wasn't it?"

"Y-yes," she stammered. "Rose Tyler. It was all I could think of when I gave it to you that day. I haven't used it in lifetimes."

"Does it cause you pain for me to use it?"

"No. It was a good name, a good life." She smiled coyly up at him through her lashes. "I like to hear you say it."

It couldn't simply be his imagination that she had made more than one overture in this conversation. He decided to attempt another. He allowed his voice to go deep and husky. "And I enjoy saying it . . . Rose."

Her eyes fell closed, and she almost seemed to shiver. Could he possibly log this as a victory? He simply couldn't trust, or perhaps believe, what his instincts were telling him.

But the moment she opened them again, Ignis knew from her expression that their time had come. She leapt from her chair, though he noted that she took the time to tuck it in before rushing to where he sat.

This was it. His life would change tonight—one way or another.

She grabbed his hand, and he allowed her to pull him to his feet.

"Come on!" she exclaimed, using her foot to push his chair into place before stepping in close and looking up at him. That scent of hers was stronger than ever as he met her sparkling eyes. "Ignis," she whispered, the sound betraying that she was about to explode with merriment. "Run!"

With that final vague command, she whirled, her hair and skirt kicking up with her momentum, and took off. Bewildered as always with her mercurial whimsy, he chased her through the streets of Lestallum. She was toying with him, of course—slowing just enough that he would catch a glimpse of her laughing before ducking behind a corner. But she was nearly a half a foot smaller and so much faster than he, so he was forced to squeeze his way through the crowds—brushing up against sweaty inhabitants and tourists with an "I beg your pardon," hurtling over fallen stacks of crates, and leaping over ill-placed metal drums. She appeared to be searching for something as she raced through the marketplace, dancing her way like a flickering flame through a throng of youths clearly on the lookout for a good time, but he was too busy attempting to catch up to her to garner any clues as to what she may be hunting for.

He lost track of her when she disappeared between two stalls, and he stopped short to find the aisle devoid of his quarry. Now where had she run off to? He spun in a circle in the middle of an intersection of produce aisles, searching for that flash of red. Honestly, if she weren't finally enjoying herself, he might have been irritated.

His sharp eyes caught a flash of scarlet fabric slinking fluidly among the grey-blue stone, drifting around a corner. He followed it to a narrow alley with a long set of stairs leading toward the power plant. She wasn't even looking in his direction, instead brushing her hand over a rough rock wall and craning her neck to see around a corner that led to the power plant courtyard, which was packed with dancing locals.

"What on Eos do you think you're doing, madwoman?!" he demanded when he finally caught up with her shadow.

At his admittedly appalling outburst, she turned to place both her hands on his chest and walk him against the wall.

"Lesson one," she said over his heartbeat fluttering in his ears. "If you find yourself on an adventure, and it isn't life threatening, _stop thinking_. You might find you enjoy it."

Yes, little did she know he was already beginning to learn that lesson, and look where it had gotten him—alone in a deserted dark alleyway with a beautiful woman pressed against him, and by the gods he wanted to spin her around and be the one to push _her_ somewhere for once.

He wanted to hear more about what she had to say about the matter, though. Perhaps she'd make a case for his heart to win over his head tonight, as it already sounded as though she was, so he feigned ignorance.

"What on Eos are you on about?"

She took a small step back. "Do you hear the music, Ignis?"

Of course he could hear the music, but she was likely wanting him to hear the life next, so he listened more closely. Another block party was well underway in the courtyard in front of the power plant—guitars strumming out an almost percussive beat just as heavy and relentless as the heat, and a violin that seemed to be singing its heart into the night. Some of the revelers in the walkway leading to the courtyard were stomping their feet, clapping their hands, and beating tambourines in time to the music, which echoed off the high walls of the deserted alley and over the stone steps, and if he wasn't careful, he could see the possibility of it infecting his blood—or perhaps it was just her making his heart beat too quickly again.

He tried to swallow that familiar feeling of dread and anticipation as he answered, "Yes," but his voice had no strength behind it.

Laura leaned into him again and said in a low, sultry voice, dripping with heat, "Dance with me."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

"Sheep on a Roof" is based off this tiny little place I drove through once that kept goats on a roof.

What each of the bros knows about religion has been altered. Even with a culture as isolated as Insomnia, I found it difficult to believe how little Prompto knew, though I understand his role was to ask the questions the player needs answered. I've also taken a lot of liberties with religious presence and its cultural impacts in order to fill a gap, as the Six seem to just be laid overtop the story instead of affecting the world.

There actually is a mountain range or some sort of cliff section in Northwest Insomnia judging by the aerial shot, which is why I "placed" the concept art linked there. I made up its connection to Titan.

Messenger lore—most of my Messenger lore is not canon.

I've made the boys far less ignorant than in game. Even though they know next to nothing now, they actually know quite a bit more about how Starscourge connects to Noct's destiny than they did in game. The details behind the war on science versus religion is not canon.


	24. Chapter 24

Those hypnotic viridian eyes widened, and his bangs just beginning to droop from the humidity brushed against his brow as he shook his head.

"I can't."

"Oh. You don't know how to dance?"

That was surprising. She would have thought a royal chamberlain would know only too well how to dance. But with the way he moved in battle, the way he moved in general, she could probably still work with that.

Yet he seemed offended by the very notion of her sincere question as he straightened to his fullest height and looked down his nose at her, a haughty, defensive expression chilling his features. "I am the Prince's Chamberlain, Senior Advisor to the future King. I was required to attend more social functions than any other person in the kingdom, thank you. Of course I know how to dance."

"So what's the issue then?" she challenged. "We're around the corner; no one's watching. And I promise, this very much pertains to my interest in keeping you alive in battle."

His expression softened as she skimmed her fingertips down his forearms and grasped both his hands. He met her eyes hesitantly before his expression hardened with determination.

He nodded. "All right then."

But his mind still held remnants of that confliction that always confused the hell out of her, as though he both disliked and anticipated what was happening to him. It gave her pause. She wasn't the only dichotomous creature of the two of them, and no matter how many of these little life adventures she pulled him off to, it was still difficult to tell whether he truly wanted to experience something outside his comfort zone or if he was just going along with her. The anticipation, wonder, and attraction always won out, however, which was the only reason she was still moving forward with this seduction.

It might not have been on top of a spaceship in 1941, but Jack Harkness still would've been proud—probably jealous as hell, too.

Leaning in close, she waited several seconds for the color of his mind to settle into that deep blue-green of anticipation.

"Close your eyes," she whispered up at him.

When he complied, she placed his hands on her waist so that his thumbs rested over her hipbones and his long fingers laid across the top of her skirt. She had to pause again for a moment, inhaling at the feeling of his large, warm hands on her hips and his thumbs pressing firmly into her skin. His spicy, smoky scent washed over her, and the masculinity of it made her feel like a teenager again, weak-kneed and breathless.

His thumbs twitched across her hipbones, and he froze, his lips parting to inhale along with her. But that tension that had been hovering on the edge of his thoughts washed over him in full force, manifesting as a slight frown pulling at his lips.

This was why she hadn't been more aggressive in her pursuit of him, right here. She knew he was almost as attracted to her as she was to him, but their relationship was in very real danger of becoming a romantic version of what he and Noctis had if she wasn't very, very careful from the beginning—a twisted combination of lover and servant-slash-acolyte—and god, she didn't want anything like that from him. His tender heart, so eager to serve and be loved, could be manipulated by even a benevolent lover if he chose not to also apply that mithril will and formidable intelligence of his. He would probably always see her as a goddess because of the way mortals tended to see the world, but if it was all possible, she'd much rather him see her as a woman who happened to be immortal. At the very least, she wanted to make it absolutely clear that she was not to be obeyed or worshipped in any fashion other than the way two lovers were supposed to worship each other, as equals.

Honestly, Ignis didn't need to be worshipping anyone at all. If anything, the world should be falling at his feet to recognize such a beautiful soul. She certainly would, if she knew he wouldn't be horrified by the gesture. Perhaps she could convince him to allow her to love him instead.

But _stars_ , Eilendil was right. This was such a bad idea. Though he was vastly mature for his age—far more mature than she was, if she was honest—he was still so very young. He had a better handle on who he was than most, but he hadn't quite figured out who he was yet. And although she knew from watching the human race for thousands of years exactly the sort of man he was likely to become, was it fair to pursue him like this? The impression she would inevitably leave on him would change him irrevocably. A part of him would be forever separated from the rest of his species. Could she bear the consequences of that? Could he?

But _oh_ , it had been so long since someone had cared for her like _this_. And Ignis was a grown man with his own agency that commanded respect for his ability to make his own decisions. She didn't want to insult his intelligence and do him the disservice of treating him like a child.

As with all things, it was a delicate balance. She'd do her best to make it clear she wanted him, but the ultimate choice needed to be _completely_ his. All she needed from him was one sign that he wanted this too—something more than just agreeing to her persuasion.

But in this moment, with that tension on his face, as much as she wanted to do this with him, for him, there were more legitimate ways to accomplish this first lesson. Hell, even a game of anbo-jyutsu would accomplish the same thing without unsettling him like this. She had to offer him an out.

"Hey," she said gently. "Look at me."

His brow furrowed as he opened his eyes and glared at her. That irritation was encouraging, at least, and she had to suppress her smile, lest he think she was patronizing him.

"Well, which is it? I can't simultaneously close my eyes _and_ look at you."

"Do you not want to do this? Because we can go—no hard feelings whatsoever, I promise. I'll start teaching you tomorrow, and tonight we can take a walk, get dessert, read a book, or pick a fight with a man named Moose if that's what you want."

Too late, she realized he probably wouldn't understand the full meaning behind her lame attempt at humor if he didn't know what a moose was, but he let out a helpless, undignified giggle regardless. She removed his left hand from her hip and twisted her arm around his, entwining their fingers—a reminder. The choice was _always_ his.

"Remember? Freely and unreservedly."

He blinked, his vivid green eyes locking with hers in understanding. "I would—" He stuttered, squeezing her hand. "Yes, I would dance with you. It's just that—" His attention darted to the couples in the lit walkway leading to EXINERIS Square, locked in various positions of embrace. The flush from the heat deepened on his high cheekbones as he looked down between them. "I've not danced with a woman like _that_ before."

His double entendre didn't surprise her in the slightest, though she was somewhat astonished that he was stating it openly. Of course he'd been too busy to have a social life while playing manservant, strategist, and chamberlain for the Chosen King. Even out here, away from all the paperwork that went with a bureaucracy, and even with her help, he always found ways to keep himself busy late into the night. As disgusted as he often was with Gladio's antics each time they blew through a town, Ignis hardly seemed the sort to go for casual encounters, and what steady lover would be able to handle the fact that the Prince would always come first? Who did that leave him with?

She chose her next words carefully so that they would still fit in the context of his double entendre. Placing his hand back on her hip and leaning into him again, she said gently, "That's all right, you know, and it's understandable. Your entire life has centered so much around duty that you haven't gotten a chance to live it. But living and doing one's duty don't have to be mutually exclusive. And anyway, I don't agree to spend time with a man because of his dancing ability. A man can always learn to dance if he wants. I agreed to spend time with _you_ because I enjoy your company."

As his eyes shot to hers, his expression darkening and his mind prickling frantically at some undiscernible thought, she decided that she'd been too forward and stepped it back a little.

"Besides," she continued more brightly, "the entire point of this outing was to teach you to dance my way. I bet you have plenty of experience leading a waltz, and I bet you're perfect at it, but you also need balance—to learn to follow, respond with instinct, exercise that Intuition of yours."

He cleared his throat before responding, "I could always hold my own in a waltz, but my body isn't suitably built for dancing. It's too awkward."

"Rubbish," she scoffed, wondering who on Eos would ever be stupid enough to tell a man like Ignis that he was awkward. "Your body is beautiful and built well for dancing. Not sure where you even got that from."

Those emerald eyes of his grew wide as the blush deepened across his cheeks, up to his ears, and down his neck. He swallowed, and she watched his Adam's apple bob with the movement. For her, it was like one of those moments sitting in a quiet, crowded library, suddenly looking up, and wondering just what would happen if she jumped on the table and screamed aloud that she preferred Verne over Melville any day before doing a tap dance number. What would anyone do about it? What would he do if she leaned up on her toes and brushed her lips over that elegant throat of his?

 _No. Focus._

"Here." She conjured a flask and, unscrewing the cap, handed to him. "Take a sip of this, if you want, but just a sip. The point is to get you to relax a little, not impede your judgment. You're going to need coordination for this next part, and I'm not going to take it easy on you just because I like you."

Removing one hand from her waist, he took the flask from her, swirled it in a quick circle, buried his nose deep into the mouth, and inhaled. Only after he had pulled away and contemplated the scent did he take a measured sip.

She hadn't missed his subtle warnings that he thought himself dull, but how could she believe him when he was so intensely sensual?

"This is exceptional," he said, tilting the flask to examine the liquid through the unbreakable Thelassian crystal. "The nose is woody—with dried redberry, leather, and Rydiellen oak—but the palate is surprisingly sweet with a lingering finish and layered depth. Shame about the color though. What sort of a whiskey is this?"

"It is . . . green," she said with a smirk but a brief flash of mourning, which she shoved aside as always. "Sorry. It's Aldebaran whiskey. So, an advanced drinker, are we?"

Ignis tilted his head, exposing that inhumanly tantalizing neck and jawline of his, and quirked his lips into a crooked smile. He leaned in close, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around her hip, and murmured in a velvety tone. "I am a man of many hidden talents."

There he was—that arrogant, cocky bastard that would appear from time to time, sometimes as false bravado and sometimes as genuine confidence. Laura wasunsure of how she'd managed to unearth him this evening, but his appearance was certainly welcome.

"Mmm, I'm well aware of that already," she hummed seductively, hoping to coax that confidence to become more authentic, but let's see what other talents of yours we can reveal."

She took the flask from him and sipped at it herself before replacing the cap and dismissing it. His hand returned immediately of its own accord to where she had first placed it on her hip, and her face warmed at the thought of what that might mean.

"By all means, please, lead on," he said with a gesture to the alley behind them.

"This first part's easy. All you have to do is stand there. Close your eyes again."

When he obeyed, she did the same, cocking her head to the side so she could better hear each nuance of every instrument playing in the square around the corner. "Music is energy, Ignis—a human body putting physical force on an instrument to produce sound. It becomes the aural embodiment of a person in that moment—their strength, their emotions, their life force. Can you feel the life?"

There was a brief pause, and she imagined him frowning in concentration. "I'm . . . not . . . certain."

"It's like . . . an electric current thrumming through your blood, energy washing over you in waves."

"Yes," he breathed.

"Good. Now lose yourself in it. Let it sweep you off your feet and carry you away." Holding his hands to her hips, she took a small retreating step to allow her just enough room to move. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she began to sway her hips to the pulsing beat of the music. "Feel me move beneath your hands," she murmured, opening her eyes in time to see the flush on his skin growing an even deeper scarlet as her hearts quickened. Even she wasn't immune to the sensuality of her own words, apparently. "My muscles indicate which way I'm going to move a split second before they do. Do you feel it?"

He swallowed and nodded.

"And it's not just touch that gives you information. Listen to the shift of my clothes, the sound of my feet on the stone; even the way sound echoes off the walls can tell you something about your surroundings. My scent strengthens when I'm closer to you, weakens when I pull away. Your palate may even be sensitive enough to taste me on the air as you breathe in. Are you getting all this?"

He took a deep breath through his nose and nodded again.

Laura wondered if he'd noticed that she'd been casually training him for this since their first day out of the city. Smell the life. Taste the life. Feel the life. They all vaguely hinted at a new way of sensing the world around him—less straightforward than the typical human way of merely smelling scents, tasting flavors, feeling tactile input. His senses were as sharp as his intelligence when he was concentrating, but that same formidable intelligence ironically dulled him, forced his cognitive resources to split between what was going on in his head and what was going on around him when situations grew tense.

There were about a thousand other sources he would have to learn to detect in order to perfect this technique, a million other sources of sensory input she herself was currently taking in and decidedly not analyzing, but they had to start somewhere.

"You've already learned to wrest knowledge from your enemy by remaining calm, but now you must learn to think without thinking so you act out of instinct and not reason. Empty your mind. Instinctual understanding will come to you in that emptiness."

"Think without thinking?" he asked incredulously.

"Now, try to keep all that in mind as you get off that wall and step with me. But keep your eyes closed."

"I'll need to see where I'm going," he protested.

"No you won't. I'm leading, remember? I won't let you run into anything. Trust me."

"I do," he whispered so quietly and so immediately that she wondered if she was even meant to hear it. But she had, and _oh_ , Ignis. The wave of affection and tenderness and even fear that washed over her at those two little words was almost too much to take. She had to close her eyes for a moment to collect herself before she could move on.

She began leading him slowly around the alley, undulating to the heavy beat and exaggerating her movements so that he could feel her intentions beneath his palms. Even with the obstacle of having his eyes closed, his posture was pulled as perfectly straight and strong as any professional ballroom dancer—towering over her as she guided them across the landing between the stairs in time to the percussive rhythm set by the guitars.

It was slow going, but she was eventually able to pick up the pace as he grew accustomed to reading the messages her hips were sending his hands. He was doing well for this being his first time, and she told him so. But she had stepped on his feet several times when he didn't react in time, or his movements would stutter as he made to move in the opposite direction she had stepped. The blue-grey rumbling of his frustration billowed between them at his imperfection and his directive to keep his eyes closed despite her praise, but he didn't utter a word besides "apologies" as they moved together.

"All right," she said after it had been a while since he'd made a mistake and the musicians had restarted the song. What was it about the musicians here only playing one song for hours on end, anyway? "It's about to get more difficult. Open your eyes."

Ignis's expression was impassive when he did as she asked, but his dark pupils had vastly expanded to overtake much of the viridian. Laura breathed in as he stared silently down at her, searching his face and mind for some clue as to what he could be thinking, but all she could feel was that tingling breathlessness whenever she was close to him.

"Now, use what you've learned in conjunction with your vision," she said in a tone that was probably too soft and intimate to be appropriate for a lesson, but he was _so_ warm and so close. "But don't rely on it solely. Take in all that information, turn your mind off, and watch me with your entire body, not just your eyes. Move opposite me. Use your instincts to determine whether you should lead or follow. Feel."

He maintained his intense, serious stare and merely nodded his understanding.

Though she despised the concept of bullfights, there was something so very apropos about the music she'd managed to find in this corner of town tonight and the dance she'd decided to pair with it. The pasodoble was give and take, dominance and submission, attack and retreat, and more than heavily-implied sex as the dancers challenged each other in a flurry of movement too fast to be unchoreographed or spontaneously performed—at least for humans. But they were going to do it anyway, and perhaps he'd uncover that more aggressive side of himself as he was forced to use the technique she was trying to teach him.

If this dance existed on this world—which, given the music and the attempts of the couples she could see in the courtyard, it did—then Ignis likely knew everything about it, even if he didn't know how to dance it himself. And though she was dressed as the cape, she could only hope he realized that she was bull tonight, or whatever the Eosian equivalent, and he was the one with the power to slay her.

 _Come and get me._

She began to move again—starting slow as she lengthened their steps into something more of a dance than a walk to the music. Their bodies nearly touched when she advanced three steps toward him, but he retreated abruptly before they could make contact.

"Don't try to move quickly or slowly, but bend to me like a reed in the wind. Only then will you appear neither fast nor slow, but effortless. Battle is like a dance; timing is everything. And by seeing all and discounting nothing, you can adapt to the unexpected and eventually shape the battle as it pleases you."

She took a hopping step and whirled to his left before taking two steps backward. He glided smoothly to her destination to catch her at the end of her maneuver. His fingertips caught the tops of her ribs and grazed lightly down her sides before settling on her hips, making her shiver. The heat radiated off his body as she leaned heavily back in his arms, and he read her cue to bend and dip her low over his knee, his fingers spreading wide across her bare back to brace her as her skirt melted onto the stone below. Spin. Step forward. Retreat. Dip and be flung out into a whirl. Advance. They picked up the pace as they became more familiar with each other.

"You don't give yourself enough credit," she breathed.

He tugged her hand to spin her away from him, his eyes catching the voluminous scarlet fabric of her skirt as it draped over and between his long legs like a lover before kicking up like a wave of water. She had to smile at where his attention had focused. The moment she'd put it on this evening, she'd known he'd appreciate the aesthetics of its fluid movement and its contrast with the blue-grey stone. Laura herself had always had a flair for the dramatic.

"I take direction well," he said cockily, his lips spreading into a smirk as he stalked toward her like a coeurl. "But it may very well be a combination of inebriation and an excellent instructor."

"Oh, don't try to blame this on either of those things," she snorted, gesturing toward the specimen of agility and elegance currently advancing on her at the very same moment she stepped back. She flung her skirt into the air so that it fell around her like a halo. "You can't fool me into thinking this isn't _all_ you."

He hauled her in close to his chest to hold her gently in contact position.

"Perhaps."

With that inscrutable response, he stepped to the side and led her in whirling, hopping circles at a dizzying pace. Using the very technique she was trying to teach him, she followed his quick, graceful strides, skimming her sandals over the rough stone in time to his steps without a thought. Over the leading leg, spin, step between his feet, spin, step over his extended leg. Their feet moved effortlessly between and around each other in time to the music. They might not have been working on _her_ skill tonight, but as his assertiveness was certainly something she wanted to see more of, she didn't mind letting him lead for a bit. She flashed him a smirk of her own when his eyes widened a fraction at how effortlessly she'd risen to his challenge, and she pulled out of his hold to retreat, forcing him to once again follow.

She could read his every emotion just by watching the way he moved, without even the aid of his mind or expression. When he felt confident of his estimation of her movements, he mirrored her nimbly and fluidly, but when he was unsure, he stuttered and stumbled. They would hardly be entered for a dance competition anytime soon, but she was still impressed with how quickly he'd grasped the basics of her instruction. Of course, what she was teaching him tonight was only the very tip of an unimaginably enormous iceberg. It had taken her months of frustrating meditation to learn awareness of all before she could begin to apply it to any part of her life, but once she had mastered it and years of rigorous blade training, she had never been quite the same again. She'd never felt as human, never quite fit in with humans as well as she once had—or perhaps her isolation had stemmed more from the nature of the trauma she'd experienced when she'd finally met her people.

But Ignis's raw intelligence was so much greater than hers, and he didn't have to learn the telepathic side of this. He already stood out among humans, and she had no intention of making this traumatic. He would no doubt pick it up more quickly than she had.

He caught her hand in the middle of her twirl and tugged her back to him. She spun into his embrace, staring up at his smoldering eyes and pressing her hand against his jaw just beginning to grow prickly with an evening shadow.

"You're still thinking too much. You judge your every wrong movement. _Let go_ and feel. Stop trying to sense me with just your eyes and use your entire body to see. Smell, sight, taste, hearing, touch—they're all the same, Ignis." He brought his hand up to caress her shoulder, frowning down at it as though he were attempting to see with his hands. "Your entire body should become a single sensory organ—aware of all, judging nothing, pulling in all the information at once with equal importance."

As she slipped her hand from his face and retreated, he let his palm drag languidly across her skin, down her arm and to her hand. Weaving his fingers through hers, he almost seemed to glower down at her, not breaking his intense gaze as he raised her hand above her head before jerking her into another twirl.

The song was reaching its end again, its volume increasing like a cresting wave to echo down the alley. Laura put her hands to Ignis's chest to walk him back to the wall, but he surprised her—snatching her wrists, spreading them wide above her head, and lunging forward between them. He spun the two of them around so it was her back against the wall when the song tripped to a halt, her hands pinned at eye level, his chest brushing hers with each panting breath they took together.

His gaze darkened when her eyes flickered ever so briefly down to his lips—just for a second. She couldn't breathe.

"Ignis," she whispered, wondering how much longer she could take this, how much longer until the spell was broken and he would step away.

It was more difficult than people thought for someone like her to find love. Man, woman, or other. Human, Lliamérian, or other—there were deeper levels of attraction for a telepath than for apaths. And then there was the fact that her first _real_ romantic experience had been with James, who had set the bar impossibly high for any who came after him.

But it wasn't just her standards responsible for her absurdly low level of experience for her age. Surprisingly few people were willing to even attempt a relationship with an ancient telepathic alien who had, on more than one occasion, committed genocide. Even among her own fully telepathic and immortal people, she'd been considered a hybrid freak, an abomination.

But Ignis. She'd felt a shadow of that attraction the day they first met, and as she'd gotten to know him better, that attraction had grown to a roaring flame she could no longer ignore. She could sense the compatibility in the resonance of his mind that she hadn't felt since James; they could even bond and make each other so happy. It wasn't until he'd gotten to know her and still sought her out that she'd truly begun to hope. He'd seen pretty much all of the worst of her, the most shocking, and he was still standing here with his body engulfing her hers. He'd even held her hand and stood firm beside her as she snuffed out an innocent man's life with nothing but her mind, which she needed to stop thinking about before she woke Eilendil up again with that cold, Lliamérian disconnect Ignis had only just managed to pull her from.

That scene had dug up far too many awful memories. But tonight wasn't about the past; tonight was about the future, and what was hopefully going to be her future had her pressed up against a wall, looking for all the worlds like he wanted to kiss her.

God, he was so beautiful like this—his eyes reflecting his name, his face flushed, his honey-brown hair falling into his eyes, and the curry and whiskey on his breath mixing with the smoky sage of his aftershave—overwhelming her senses. She could feel that stunning mind of his racing as it always was, shifting colors and pricking at her brain in such a way that he might consider intimate had he been aware of the sensation. She only wished she knew what he was thinking, because all she could think was how very much she loved him already.

He wasn't pulling away, and she wondered if it was finally, _finally_ , much as she would love to reverse their positions and kiss him for all he was worth, she could not, would not abuse her position of power over him.

 _I know it isn't fair, love, but the first move has to be yours,_ she thought to herself, to him.

It was almost as though he'd heard her and immediately moved to comply, his mouth swooping down on hers and meeting her lips with a soft chastity that dazzled her with its tenderness. His fragile human heart was pounding beneath her fingertips; she could tell by the heavy puffs of air blowing from his nose past her cheek that he was making a valiant attempt to hold his breath in check. She waited patiently for him to decide what to do while he held his lips closed and still—waited for him to move them, waited for him to step away, whatever he wanted.

His mind flooded with horror, shame, and humiliation as he dropped his hands and staggered back, and she realized she'd made the wrong decision. He'd needed her to be more assertive—to reassure him.

Ignis began speaking on a rushed exhale the moment he'd parted from her. "Ro—Laura. I must beg your forgiveness. It won't happen again. Please, Laura, I'm so s—"

He made to step farther from her but froze when she reached out for his face to halt his retreat. He braced himself as though he was expecting her to slap him, and her hearts faltered.

" _Never_ , Ignis," she breathed, slowing her hand to show him her intentions clearly. "I would _never_ hit you."

As her hand made gentle contact with his jaw and slid up to his cheek, she stood on the tips of her toes and stepped forward. Ignis pulled in a small, quiet gasp as she stretched her neck until her mouth brushed against his. She parted her lips a little as they touched so she could caress his bottom lip between hers tenderly, and he responded immediately, mimicking her so that he took her top lip between his. They both pulled back at the same time only to meet again—sweetly, gently, over and over and over, increasing in pressure and intensity until he turned his head to the side and gasped.

"Rose."

She wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

"I just want you to know," she murmured against his sharp jawline, feathering her mouth along his stubble and leaving hot, panting kisses up towards his sideburns.

"Yes?" he asked breathlessly, and she could feel his entire body tremble beneath her own shaking hands.

"You are most welcome to do that to me _any_ time you like," she replied, scraping her teeth gently along the bulge of his jawbone beneath his ear.

" _Oh_." He shuddered. "Is that so?" he recovered in a more melodious tone. "Would you mind terribly if I . . . tried that again right n—"

"Oh _gods_ , please," she groaned into his ear.

The man who turned his head and devoured her mouth wasn't the same one she'd just kissed. This man was Ignis Scientia—a man who may or may not have kissed a woman before, but knew what the hell he was doing regardless, at least had thoroughly done his homework. He walked her back against the wall, cradling her head as he parted her lips with his curry and whiskey-laced tongue, seeking out hers with dexterity and passion to perform a dance of his own.

She grasped desperately at his head with both hands, pulling him closer—Ignis, please, come closer—and he must have felt the same because he used the length of his entire body to press her up against the stone as his mouth continued to move over hers. The jubilation and triumph thundering through him seemed to roll up her fingers and into her brain, and _oh bloody hell_ she wanted to reach out, fall into that dazzling mind, and lose herself in his joy—to dive into him and be held inside that gentle, kind, brave, fierce, curious, and so very selfless heart of his. Little did this universe know she was holding all the best of humanity distilled into this one, unassuming mortal being between her hands, so very close to the touch of her mind.

No.

She snatched her hands away, running them down his neck and over his broad shoulders. She'd pushed this relationship as far as she could—much, much farther than she'd expected. It had been an absolute miracle he'd accepted as much of her as he had, but telepathy was taking it a step too far, even if she asked for his permission. She remembered the night she'd confessed—the seething hurt and anger tossed like daggers at her hearts as he'd accused her of touching him to read his mind. No, she would have to be satisfied with what he would give her—a physical and emotional relationship only. With a man like Ignis, it was more than enough.

Ignis let out the softest of groans from the back of his throat into her mouth, stroking his fingertips from her ribs to her hips—up and down and again—sending chills up and down the length of her body. She wasn't certain whether it was his wave of naked lust or her own desire to hop up and wrap her legs around him compelling her to satisfy the aching rush of warmth shooting through her center, but he pressed more insistently against her until she could feel his length pressing into her belly, which wasn't exactly helping the case for convincing herself not to not jump him immediately.

At feeling this as well, he gasped, tearing their mouths apart and settling his hands on her hips to steady her, to steady himself.

"Pardon me, please." He pressed his forehead to hers, panting heavily. "I think," he began, his warm breath washing over her face in waves, "I enjoy not thinking . . . sometimes." He chuckled, and she smiled, leaning up to give him quick, encouraging kiss. "But we should probably get back."

"Yeah, probably," she said, allowing the disappointment to lace her tone.

He hummed in amusement before bending to kiss her one more time—slow, sweet, and lingering, smiling against her lips. As he pulled away, he wrapped his arm around hers and entwined their fingers.

"This will _not_ be the last time we do this," he promised.

"Good. I meant it. _Any_ time you like."

He blew out a breath on an incredulous laugh. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that."

"Perhaps you may feel like it tomorrow morning, when you meet me in the lobby the time we usually forage."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and wear some workout clothes. It's time we apply what you've learned to combat now."

His smile spread slowly, so wide that his glittering eyes crinkled almost completely closed.

"I look forward to it."

Together, adrenaline fading but hearts full of affection and anticipation, they walked side by side through the streets of Lestallum toward the Leville.


	25. Chapter 25

"That last game was totally rigged," Prompto whined as he fell onto the couch, propping his dusty boots up on the cushion and weaving his fingers behind his head. "I swear, I got a clean headshot on that guy before he killed me."

Noct sat back in the chair across from him with a sigh, reaching up to swipe the sweat from his forehead beneath his bangs. Six damn he missed real air conditioning. The Leville's complicated system of piping and wall fans just wasn't doing it for him.

"Uh huh, keep tryin' to tell yourself that. You know it's a computer, right? Not like it decides to hate you or anything."

Prompto jerked into a sitting position and pointed a set of finger guns at him, closing an eye to take aim. "If it'd been real life, that guy woulda been sooooo dead!"

Noct chuckled, shaking his head. This was what he loved most about hanging out with Prompto. There was never any pressure to do or be anything. It was just fun. He wasn't the Prince of Lucis or the guy responsible for _somehow_ saving the whole world. He was just Noct. There was no doubt in his mind that if the four of them had all been regular guys together in high school, Prompto would've been the only one to come out of it his friend. But friend or not, Noct wondered just why the hell he'd volunteered to stay with him in this hellhole.

It made it even shittier he could only think of one reason why Ignis and Gladio were still here with him through all this, and it wasn't for friendship.

A distant sound of two people giggling like idiots in the hall outside pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced toward the door, frowning.

"Whaddya think's going on out there?" Prompto asked, jerking his head toward the door.

"Drunks. That's the problem being so close to the stairs."

They grew quiet, smirking at each other as they listened to the giggling and snorting getting louder and closer, but he had to goggle at the door when he heard the scrape of a key in the lock.

"What the—"

The door to their suite flung open and banged against the wall, and Laura stumbled through along with it, nearly falling on her face as Ignis rushed in after to pick her up off the floor.

"Honestly," he gasped through his laughter, "how many lessons until I acquire such grace?"

"Um . . . seven?" Laura giggled as she was pulled to her feet.

They didn't appear to hear the constant clicking of Prompto's camera as Laura attempted to push her long hair off her face and Ignis shut the door behind them, still chuckling quietly to himself. Noct couldn't believe his eyes—he had to check to make sure Prompto was seeing this too. Turning only his head to attract as little attention as possible, he fixed Prompto with a wide-eyed stare. Prompto snapped another shot of the scene before looking at Noct, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline.

Laura was dressed in some kinda sexy flamenco dancer costume like it was Daemon's Night or something—her hair loose, wild, and spilling down her back. And Specs was just a mess. He looked even worse than their worst days spent hunting out in the Leiden heat—his hair drooping from its usual plume and his coeurl-print shirt sticking to his skin. But it was the flash of a smile before he turned to help Laura up and the sound of his laughter that made him seem like a stranger to Noct.

"Uhhh, what the hell have you guys been up to?" Prompto interrupted.

The second Prompto had begun speaking, it was like a switch had been flipped. Specs might have looked like a mess, but he began to resemble the Ignis that Noct had grown up with as he pulled himself straight and slowly turned around. Those expressionless eyes fell on _him_ through the screen of the ornately-carved room divider, not Prompto, and regarded him carefully, skimming over his clothes and probably checking over every speck of dust he might've picked up on the dirty streets tonight.

"Apologies for the interruption," he said, walking just far enough to clear the room divider. "We had supper, a quick run-through of the city, and then practiced footwork. If you'll pardon me, I should like to get cleaned up—unless there was anything else, Highness?

Noct couldn't help but grimace a little at the address. He'd never cared for formality, even though he'd eventually figured out that Specs would _never_ relent with the honorifics and learned to accept it, but things were different now. _Everything_ had changed.

Back in Insomnia, he'd never given much thought to what Ignis's life was like when he wasn't driving him around or randomly showing up at his apartment to lecture him about one thing or another. It had just been so much easier to unwind after a day of classes and training and a thousand subtle reminders all day about how the future of the world was on his shoulders. It wasn't fair that he was expected to come home and still have to do all the other crap that was somehow his responsibility just because he'd been born. Things had been simpler—and done better—if Ignis did them, so why not let him do them?

But after what Noct had discovered, he couldn't help but see Ignis's every action in a new light and wonder what _else_ he was hiding that he'd never breathe a word about. What was his personal life like? Did he even have one? What _did_ the guy do for fun? He'd followed Noct around almost his whole life, so Noct had just figured cooking, cleaning, and nitpicking had been what he enjoyed.

But the lifelong lie, this . . . mask thing—it made him feel betrayed. At the same time, it forced him to take a harder look at the guy who'd been his friend most of his life, and he didn't like what he saw now. It was like Ignis had been raised for the sole purpose of remaining at Noct's side, like he'd been brainwashed into it, and Noct had just gone along with it, never questioning why his childhood friend was also his servant.

How many times had Specs shown up at his apartment after a long day at the Citadel only to find more work to do? Every second Noct had saved by not handling his own shit had been paid for by someone else—someone who might not have considered it his hobby like Noct had always thought. How many times had Noct casually made a suggestion and Ignis had bent over backward to make it happen because he saw it as an order? Noct bet it was even more than he thought, cause he was starting to notice the sighs were coming less often, the lectures were shorter, and even though Ignis was still obviously an addict, he didn't have a can or a mug in his hand every waking hour.

Ignorance was bliss, but now that he'd seen it, he couldn't unsee it.

But he didn't want a servant in Iggy. He wanted the friend—the annoying older brother—he'd thought he had. Noct had been trying to push him off on Laura lately because it seemed like it made him happy; he'd never seen Specs smile so much—let alone whatever the hell _that_ snorting giggling mess just was. But even though all this extra time hanging out with Prompto was awesome, Noct found he was missing the irritating prick—a lot. Maybe he should just try to spend some time with him, see if he couldn't find his friend again.

"Nah, Specs, it's cool. Go ahead and do your thing," he said, plastering a smile on his face and waving him off to the door that led to the kitchen and bedroom. But after he'd done it, he realized it looked too much like a dismissal. Damn it. How had things gotten so awkward? To make matters worse, Iggy bowed his head a little before striding through the door.

Laura stood in place long enough to watch him go before crossing the room and dropping to the couch next to Prompto with a sigh. "I can't believe how hot it is here when it was so nice at Wiz's. Weird how meteors can affect this area so much. This planet's so strange—what are you two staring at?"

Noct shot a doubtful look at Prompto, then Laura. "You were sparring . . . wearing that?"

If it wasn't so obviously a Daemon's Night costume, he would've sworn that Laura and Ignis had just been out on a date—even if it was June and nowhere near Daemon's Night. But then, Specs would never wear Crownsguard fatigues out on a date. Or would he? The idea of "Specs" and "date" in the same sentence was just . . . weird. And Laura—she was an _alien_. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she wasn't just an alien, she was kind of a weird one too. No matter how many times Laura made Ignis laugh, Noct just didn't see them together.

Laura summoned a clip to pull her hair into a twist. "Well. . . it's hot out." She tucked the stray strands that always framed her face behind her ears and gestured at them. "And some of us do try to make some effort to blend in with the local culture."

Prompto bobbed his head, narrowing his eyes doubtfully. "Riiiight."

Her answer did kind of make sense to Noct—more sense than Ignis going out on a date, anyway. He and Prompto had seen how the women dressed here on their way to and from the arcade, and Laura was actually wearing a lot more clothes than they were. But she'd have to do better than a costume if she was gonna blend in.

Another key scraped in the lock behind him, but Noct didn't have to look to know that Gladio had returned.

"Sup," he heard Gladio grunt as the door clicked shut. "Iggy back too?"

"Yeah. How'd it go with Iris?"

Six, he hoped he wasn't opening a can of awkwardness with that question, but he'd been trying lately to prove that he actually did give a shit about them all as people ever since the thing with Ignis. Gladio had always played a different part in Noct's life than Ignis—more competitive, ass-kicking, and fewer lectures. Even though Noct hadn't spent much time with Gladio before the accident, Gladio felt less distant than Ignis somehow, more laid-back, but it wasn't until Laura had pointed it out in Keycatrich that he realized he didn't know jack about Gladio either. It wasn't that he didn't care—he really did. It was just . . . asking questions always felt like prying, and Bahamut's balls, if the answer was anything less than normal, he froze up and didn't know what to say. The whole process was so exhausting and uncomfortable that it'd always been easier just to keep quiet and let people volunteer what they wanted.

But everything had changed now.

Gladio dropped down on the couch next to Laura and wiped the sweat beading up on his forehead with the back of his entire arm. "Meh. Good as it coulda gone I guess. Our dad definitely knew ahead of time. Set up all this stuff with Jared, including a helluva lotta gil to take care of Iris. Still gotta figure out what to do with her long-term while we're off gallivanting, though."

"I'm just glad she's safe," Laura said gently. "Everything else will sort itself in time. We'll make sure of it."

"Yeah, we gotta. And it's not just her. Talcott's only seven, and Jared's gettin' up there." Finished with slicking his hair back, Gladio ran his arm along the back of the couch and looked in her direction. A slow smirk spread over his face as he scooted further into the couch corner to get a better view of her costume. "Hey . . . you look _good_."

"Thanks, babe," she said brightly, but wrinkled her nose when he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side. "Ugh, you're _disgusting_."

"You know you like it wet."

She tilted her head up at him, smiling mysteriously. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Noct just didn't get the dance that went on between two people when they were flirting, but Gladio and Laura seemed to enjoy the game a little too much. He was sure as hell glad she'd never tried to flirt with him, but that just made him wonder if something was _really_ going on between her and Gladio . . . or Prompto . . . or Ignis.

"Yeah, apparently her and Iggy were out 'sparring,'" Prompto said. "And it looks like you forgot to sweat tonight, too."

"I had other things on my mind."

"Oh yeah? Like this 'sparring . . .,'" Gladio mused, smirking down at her from the side of his eye. "And did Iggy learn a lot?"

She fixed him with some kind of significant look Noct couldn't read. "I'd say enough for one night, yes."

"Huh. Should be interesting to see."

"What makes you assume he'd be willing to show you?"

Gladio raised an eyebrow and grinned. "How 'bout a personal demonstration then?"

She grinned back at him. "Now what fun would that be?"

"Okay, you guys're just being weird," Prompto interrupted, voicing exactly what Noct was thinking. "Now that everyone's back, I'm gonna hit the sack."

Gladio stood and reached out to cuff Noct around the head. "Yeah, we should all clear out so Laura can have her bedroom. Night, Princess."

Before Gladio shoved Noct through the kitchen door, Noct added, "Yeah, night."

He sat down on his side of the bed that he and Ignis would be sharing, unlaced and took off his boots, and waited for him to come out of the shower, which was never longer than six minutes. For a guy who was so into being clean and styled, he could never be accused of being selfish about bathroom time. Sure enough, it was only about a minute before the door opened and Ignis emerged from the bathroom wearing his blue and grey pinstriped pajama pants and light gray t-shirt.

Ignis didn't seem to be paying attention to any of them—or notice that they were all sitting on their beds watching him in silence. After pulling back the covers, he settled primly onto the edge of his side of the bed. He took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table, humming the chocobo tune cheerfully to himself in the smallest, faintest voice as he rocked his head back and forth a little. After checking his phone—probably to make sure the alarm was set for a time that shouldn't even exist in the morning—and setting it on the table, he finally looked up. His eyes locked on Prompto first, whose mouth had actually dropped open a little.

"Are you all right, Prompto?"

"Were you . . . humming?"

"Hmm, I suppose I was," he mused—almost cheerfully.

"Who are you, and what'd you do with Iggy?!"

Ignis chuckled in response, a mysterious smile turning up the corner of his lips and making his eyes twinkle. "My lips are sealed."

Noct hadn't seen him this smug since that one time he'd beaten Vincit in a spar in front of half the Crownsguard. But while that incident had only resulted in a bottle of wine to go along with the dinner Ignis had made at Noct's apartment later that evening, he wasn't sure what could've happened on Ignis and Laura's not-date to make him like _this_. Maybe they'd found a high-paying bounty or something.

"Are you actually gonna go to bed at the same time as the rest of us, too?" Noct asked.

Ignis looked coolly over at him. "I thought I might get an early start on the day tomorrow."

Noct gave his pillow a couple of punches to beat it into shape and collapsed onto it. "Long as you let the rest of us humans sleep in. What could you even do that early, anyway? We're in the city."

"This and that. But tell me: did the two of you enjoy your evening at the arcade this evening?"

"Yeah, actually. It was cramped and old, but they had some good games, even some computers for online gaming and stuff."

"Ooh, yeah! They even had Assassin's Creed! Guy there said there was gonna be a festival here next month. Sounds like it's gonna be sooooooo awesome," Prompto said.

"Can we go, Iggy?" Noct pleaded, leaning up on his elbow. "Please? PLEASE?"

Iggy gave him a crooked smile. "Besides the fact that we're on the run, there's an imperial bounty on your head, and we have no idea where we're going to be in a month, I don't see why not."

"All right!" Prompto shouted, leaping off his bed and galloping across the room to slap at Noct's feet. "Did ya hear that, Noct? Maybe we can even dress up . . . as ASSASSINS."

"Hell yeah!"

"Kindly keep your voices down. Too many nights spent in a haven, and you've forgotten we're in a hotel room with other people nearby."

"You should talk," Noct accused. "Or are you tryin' say that _wasn't_ you giggling up the hallway earlier?"

"Giggling up the hallway?" Gladio asked. "Sound like someone had too much to drink tonight."

Prompto sat down on the end of their bed and leaned over to poke Ignis's shoulder. "What's the deal with you guys, anyway? You dating her now?"

"I'm certain I have no idea what you're talking about. But the two of you haven't told me about the rest of your evening."

Noct might not have noticed the first time Ignis had manipulated them into forgetting about him and what might've happened tonight, but he did this time. Specs had had it pretty rough lately, so he let it slide and pretended to fall for it, going through a play by play of all the games he and Prompto had played that evening, with Prompto jumping in from time to time to make corrections or add to his story.

As he spoke, Ignis shooed Prompto off their bed and settled between the sheets, nodding at appropriate parts of Noct's recounting. He asked for more information where they weren't detailed enough for his liking and got their opinions on the games he'd never heard Noct mention before. Noct tried to spot a change in his behavior, but besides his eyes being bright as he smiled up at the ceiling and the fact that he didn't once ask how much money they'd spent, he could spot no difference.

* * *

"Good morning, Highness!" Ignis practically sang as Noct shuffled into the kitchen and slumped into one of the chairs.

He rubbed at his swollen eyes and rested his head in his arms on the table in front of him. "Ugh, morning. That's enough coffee for you, I think. Find another beverage that doesn't make you so . . . wired, will you?"

"Hmm," Ignis replied, pouring what was probably his eighth cup of the morning into the bright yellow hotel mug. "Well, I very much doubt I ever will, but I'll allow the idea to percolate and see if I come up with any alternatives."

"See what I mean? Too much caffeine, Specs."

"It's a stimulating debate, to be certain, but do try to tamp your emotions regarding my coffee habit. I don't foresee it disappearing any time soon."

"Iggy?"

He turned to Noct and grinned. "Yes, Noct?"

"Shut up."

"Of course."

For a second, Noct thought he'd gone and done it again, but Ignis kept talking.

"Laura made tea for Gladio this morning—Laoshan Black, she called it. It has the most delightful flavors of cocoa and bread due to the unique chemical composition of the soil and low elevation at which it's grown. She left some behind in case you wanted any. Would you care for some?"

"I don't have to do all the ceremony crap, do I?"

"Language, Highness," he said with a frown. "And no. She's anticipated your distaste for ceremony and left you a mug."

"Then, yeah. Thanks a lot, Specs."

Iggy turned from his preparations at the counter and gave him a significant look. "It truly is my pleasure, Noct. Did you sleep all right?"

"Eh."

But of course Ignis already knew the answer to that question. He'd slept like shit ever since the marilith attack, and even if he'd stopped remembering the nightmares after getting better, he still must've had them because he woke up exhausted every morning.

That had changed since the Fall—his dad's death and final goodbye, the prophecy, young Ignis glaring up at him and accusing him of everything being his fault—he remembered every nightmare every night now.

He'd been brushing them off as best he could until last night, when adult Gladio and Ignis had come to him and told him there was no king forcing them to stay with him on this trip anymore, so they saw no reason to continue. That scene had stuck with him this morning as he'd gotten ready because he realized just how much truth was buried in the scenario his brain had cooked up. There was absolutely nothing stopping the two of them from leaving right this second to go out and find their own lives. Sure, he would still have Prompto, and Laura was definitely powerful enough to get him through this, but things wouldn't be the same. What was keeping them there with him now besides duty to a dead king? It wasn't like Noct had even a tenth the authority his dad had.

"So did the others already leave?" he asked in a fake bright tone, changing the subject before Ignis could ask more about it. "How the hell is everyone so awake?"

"One has time to wake up fully if one has been up for hours already. There is no more glorious way to live than greeting the dawn," he replied cheerfully. "Laura just left to use Lady Iris's en suite so as not to disturb your rest. Gladio and Prompto are out with young Talcott, touring the city. I would have gone with them, but I had already departed for the morning."

"To hang out in the steam room?"

Ignis lifted the electric kettle off its stand and glanced down at his sweats and t-shirt. "Now that you're awake, I can shower as well. And Lady Iris is assisting Jared in the lobby with a project, but she requested to see you as soon as you were available."

Ignis finished pouring the boiling water into the mug and set the leaves to steep, but as he reached for his coffee mug, the dishes began to rattle in the cabinets, getting louder until Noct could feel the floor vibrating beneath his feet, the table trembling beneath his hands.

"What the—"

But he couldn't finish his sentence. A hot metal poker seemed to stab through his skull and bury itself in his brain.

"My word," he could distantly hear Ignis saying, "I heard on the radio this morning there was an increase in seismic activity in this region as of late, but this is my first time feeling such a phenomenon. It's unsettling, don't you think?"

Noct could only lean forward, pressing his head in both his hands to keep his skull from splitting open as he tried to pull in a full breath.

"Noct! Are you all right?"

But just like that, the pain stopped right along with the tremors, leaving only a dull headache behind. Nothing a little caffeine couldn't cure.

"Yeah, just . . . got a headache there for a sec. I'm fine now though. Thanks."

"Hmm."

As Ignis turned back to get his tea, Noct thought about just how much he had always taken care of him. He definitely didn't want Ignis as a servant, but it was nice to have someone to help shoulder the responsibilities of life. He really did think of Specs as a smarter, really irritating older brother, even if Ignis had never thought so. He'd been so obnoxiously right about everything so many times over the years that Noct trusted him completely.

Ignis set the tea down in front of him and took a seat on the other side of the table.

"All right, care to finally tell me what's set those thoughts of yours brewing?"

"I dunno," Noct replied, blowing a little on his tea to cool it down, but he looked up just long enough to see Ignis's deep frown.

He should've known Specs wouldn't let it go. He'd never push him for more than he was willing to spill, but he bet Ignis was about to subject him to The Wait. Ever since they were kids, Specs had always analyzed the hell out of anything Noct said, often coming to conclusions fifty steps ahead of where Noct was at just because he sucked at putting words together. As a result, he always tried to take extra time to gather his thoughts to say the right thing, if he wanted to say anything at all, but Ignis would always wait—no matter how long it took.

The last dregs of the cold liquid had revealed the sunny yellow bottom of his mug by the time he looked up again, and sure enough, those passive eyes flicked up from his coffee to meet his.

Noct sighed. "I always knew my dad wasn't gonna be there forever, but I thought he'd be there for part of it at least. I need more time, Specs. I'm not ready. I still don't know what it is we're doing, really, let alone how we're gonna get the Crystal from the Nifs. I just feel . . . I dunno. Lost."

Ignis's gaze dropped to the table for a moment, pressing his lips tightly together before taking a small breath.

"I'll admit this particular piece of advice doesn't originate from me, but someone gave it to me when I was feeling similarly, and I found it rather helpful. Sometimes, lost is where you need to be. Just because you don't know your direction doesn't mean you don't have one."

"When were _you_ ever feeling lost?" Noct asked; then winced. Years of growing up believing in that aura of calm Ignis had always put off, it was still easy to forget that not everything in his life had been simple.

"You realize I am not immune to the shortcomings of being human," he said with a sympathetic smile. "Fortunately, I was wise enough to seek advice as you are now." He sighed and took another sip of his coffee before adjusting his perfectly straight glasses on his nose.

"Your powers are growing exponentially. Have you forgotten your trouble with the blade warp as a child?"

"Heh. Yeah."

"Now look at you. Your performance was masterful in the fight against Deadeye. You mastered Laura's elemental spell technique nearly instantly, enabling you to save the life of a dear friend and comrade."

He leaned in a little, inclining his head to catch Noct's eyes. "And I can't tell you how shockingly pleasant it is to make it through a battle without being electrocuted."

Noct chuckled and slapped at his hand on the table. "Shut up."

Ignis grew quiet and sincere. "Take your time, Noct. We have a task we're accomplishing for now, and there's time to figure out the rest. I'm—I am quite proud of your achievements since we left, and I have complete faith that you'll make an excellent king. In the meantime, know that we are all here for you, and always will be—whatever you need."

Noct had only heard that unwavering confidence from Ignis twice in his life—the first time only several days ago from a skinny little kid in a mud-spattered shirt, his high-pitched voice steady and sure as he declared the absolute certainty of his faith in his prince.

But that moment undermined this one. Noct had always been the kid demanding the majority of Ignis's time—one of the true geniuses of their generation chopping vegetables and attending Council meetings on his behalf. How beaten and brainwashed had he been in order to fall in line with the delusional idea that Noct was ever going to be anything more than a nobody with a fancy title and some parlor trick magic? But as everyone knew, Specs was the smartest guy of their generation—a man whose judgment was so annoyingly perfect that he trusted it over his own. What did Ignis see in him that the rest of the world, that he himself, couldn't?

He sure as hell wasn't gonna ask, but Ignis's pride in him made him want to live up to that certainty—some way, somehow.

"Thanks, Specs."

"It has always been and will always be my pleasure, Highness."

"Hey, Ignis?" Noct said in a small voice. As much as he didn't want to wade into this awkward situation, he owed Ignis _something_ after all these years.

"Yes?"

Gods damn it, he was such a coward. He couldn't manage eye contact as he stammered, "I'm . . . sorry. For . . . you know—not noticing."

When he chanced a glance up through his bangs, he saw that Ignis's face had turned cold. His teeth clenched with an audible click as he frowned down at the table as though it had done something to personally offend him. When he spoke in a detached, frosty tone, he only relaxed his jaw just enough to get the words out.

"I do hope you don't blame yourself. You were, after all, only a child. There is nothing to apologize for, I assure you. I beg of you, please put that unpleasantness out of your mind, and let us not speak of these things again."

Noct raised his mug to drain the last of his tea before standing. He knew Ignis well enough to know that the conversation was over. Besides, he didn't think he could handle any more awkwardness than he already had this early in the day.

"All right. I'm gonna go see Iris, I guess."

Ignis's voice was almost cheerful again as he replied, "Very well. Perhaps we can all meet here afterward and take a more thorough tour of the market. I've not yet had the pleasure."

"Yeah, sure," Noct said with a smile and a little wave. "See ya later."

The carpeted hall was nearly silent when he shut the door to their suite and locked the door behind him, but a muffled set of footsteps drawing closer made him turn.

"Good morning, Noctis," Laura greeted as she reached the top of the stairs. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, all right," he lied. "Did you see Iris down there just now?"

"Yes, I had to get the key from her, but then I got sidetracked helping Luis search for his watch."

"Who?"

"Guy at the front desk," she said with a wave of her hand. "Anyway, I better get going. Lots to do today."

He had no idea what Specs could've possibly put together for them besides picking up hunts and touring the market, nor did he really want to know.

"Yeah, I should go see what Iris wants."

He heard her snort as she began walking in the direction of Iris's room. "Yeah, think I can guess what Iris wants. Have fun."

* * *

"Have a look at this, Noct!" Ignis exclaimed, reaching up to pull what appeared to be a chandelier made of fleshy yellow tubes to his nose. "They smell sweet. Could they possibly be the missing ingredient in your pastry?"

"I dunno, maybe," Noct said, blowing his bangs out of his eyes with a deep sigh.

"We should pick some up to try, along with any other local fruits they may have. And our next stop has the cheapest rice in the market. I did make a note last night to get more."

"Um . . . didn't we already pass by this stall?" Prompto asked, a hint of a whine in his voice.

"Yeah, twice, but he was concentrating on the other side of the aisle, then," Noct replied under his breath. "Don't you remember? Gladio picked up those cigars from that guy over there the first time through. And two stalls down is where you got that stupid squeaky toy for Byrrus the second time."

"Oh yeah . . . he's gonna love it though! Way sturdier than the one he tore up at Wiz's."

"Bird's gonna get us killed honking that thing on a haven in the middle of the night," Gladio complained.

"Not if we die in this market first," Noct muttered.

Shopping with Specs in a new place with so many stalls turned out to be a nightmare, made even worse because Noct had already walked through it once with Iris earlier this morning. Ignis had to look at every single item every single stall sold, make a note of the price, then sweep through again to actually buy either the best or the cheapest ingredients—usually at six or seven different stalls. And every time he came across a new ingredient, he had to have a long discussion with the stall owner about its uses and suggested cooking instructions. It seemed like every five minutes, he took that notebook of his out to jot down recipes or notes on who the hell knew what. They'd been there four hours with no end in sight. Noct was all for making an effort to do some of Ignis's things, but this was too much.

"Ugh, and he mentioned going clothes shopping with Iris later," Noct added from behind his hand, because he was pretty sure Ignis was a master at lipreading. "They both have this . . . fashion thing, I guess. Let's try to find some way to duck out before then."

"Hey," Gladio grunted, poking him hard in the shoulder. "That man sits next to you for hours on end staring at the water while you fish. Think you can handle a market. And if he asks us to go clothes shopping, you bet we're gonna go. Same thing goes if my sister asks, too. Got it?"

"They have the most vibrant peppers here!" Iggy called to them, holding a pepper aloft like a trophy.

They all turned to look at him, then back at each other, and Gladio sighed. "At least he's happy. Try to find some way to make sure he doesn't ask though, yeah?"

Noct nodded. This afternoon had been harder than he'd thought, but he'd really tried for Ignis's sake. It seemed to be paying off, too, cause he was in a really good mood, and it didn't have anything to do with Laura. He didn't know where she'd wandered off to after her shower, but she hadn't been around all day.

"Hey, Specs," Noct said, sidling up to him. "Where's Laura today?"

Instead of answering, Ignis ran a gloved finger along one of the scarlet pepper's ridges with a faraway look and a faint smile. The heat of the day had already reached its peak—the only explanation Noct could think of for why a flush was creeping up his cheeks as they stood in the blazing sun in the middle of the market aisle.

"Hmm? Oh, she's likely out wrapping the town around her finger, as is her wont everywhere we go, it would seem."

"You okay there, Iggy?" Prompto asked. "Your face's all red."

"Quite all right, but it's getting quite warm out. I was just considering using this in a new recipe I've decided to call peppery daggerquill rice." He faced the stall owner and held the pepper up. "How much?"

The old guy tossed a few rotten peas into a bucket behind him and wiped his hand on his grimy gray-green apron. "Fifty gil for half a kilo. Twenty-five if you handle that harvesting work I gave you earlier."

"Is that a lot, or no?" Noct asked Ignis. Between the different currency and units of measurement out here, pretty much everything was meaningless to him in places like this that relied on both money and weight.

"We'll take them now," Ignis answered, reaching for his wallet and handing over the money. "Thank you, Mr. Furloch."

"Spicy rice on the menu? Awesome!" Prompto cheered, dancing back and forth on his toes, and Noct had to roll his eyes a little at his enthusiasm. Specs's food was fine, but nothing to _dance_ over.

"Knock on stone I won't have to keep hiring Hunters to escort my delivery trucks, and I can afford to plant some new crops for my customers."

"Has it been really bad lately?" Noct asked guiltily. If what they'd learned about that infected guy yesterday was true, then the daemons, the wild animals—everything making these people's lives harder was all because he hadn't gotten the Crystal back and become the Chosen King yet.

"Well, it wouldn't be if I could just send my goods during the day, but these animals are making an already deadly situation even more difficult. It's a titanic burden, but I'm sure you boys know the Archaean rewards those who bear the load without complaint, so I make do."

"We'll handle it," Gladio said. "You have our word."

Ignis discreetly dismissed the peppers to the armiger and continued down the aisle, but he only made it a few paces before he stopped and pulled out his infamous book of lists.

"After acquiring the rice we need, there's an apothecary nearby I'd like to visit, if everyone else is amenable," he said, pushing his glasses up with a finger and inspecting one of the pages closely. "They're supposed to have all manner of poisons indigenous to the area."

"You betcha, Iggy," Gladio said before Noct could let out a groan, but he had to admit he was impressed at how genuine Gladio's eagerness sounded.

If there was anything worse than food shopping with Iggy, it was poison shopping. Noct had only had the misfortune of going once before they'd left Insomnia, but he'd sworn that day after spending hours staring at jars of frog hearts or whatever while Ignis grilled the owner about every possible chemical interaction for every venom he bought that he would never do it again.

But Specs wasn't falling for Gladio's enthusiastic approval. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the three of them before pulling his phone out of his jacket and checking the time.

"My apologies, all of you. I'm afraid I've lost track of the hour and monopolized the day. We could do with a bit of a break. There's a bookstore of the sort you would prefer nearby, Gladio, adjacent to a gadget shop and across the street from a tackle shop."

"Or, we could say hi to Laura," Prompto said, pointing several stalls down the aisle, where Noct could make out her blue-black hair standing out starkly against shades of brown.

"Princess!" Gladio called out. She looked up from a conversation she was having with a market proprietor and waved them over.

As they weaved their way through the crowds of chatting people and drew closer to her, Noct spotted the alien-looking object she was handing over—golden brown with shell patterns and the craziest, spikiest green top. It looked . . . kinda dangerous as she handed it off to the stall keeper in exchange for what appeared to be a bag of fine Cleigne wheat.

"Y si cortas la parte superior y la plantas, crecerá una completamente nueva. Debería crecer bien en esta área. ¿No?"

"Hmm," the stall keeper hummed doubtfully. "No sé."

"¡Sí, por supuesto! Y te escribiré la receta para ese pastel invertido y la dejaré más tarde," she said with a bright smile. "Y dile a Sr. Sypert que grabé el recital de su hija. Su teléfono está en la mesa de atrás."

"Muchas gracias."

Laura turned to the five of them as the stall owner left to help another customer. "Hey, guys!"

"Was that . . . Lestallian?" Ignis asked. "How did you learn to speak it already?"

"Well, no. Technically, it's Spanish."

"Hey, Laura!" Prompto said, bouncing up and putting his arm around her shoulder. "Whatcha up to now?"

"Well, think I just introduced the pineapple to your planet. So, you're welcome!"

Ignis frowned down at her. "Do you mean to say that you're trading from your private stores to purchase ingredients? You realize that I set aside a small allowance for each of us to make personal purchases."

"Yeah, and when have _you_ ever bought anything personal?" Gladio asked.

"I just did! I wanted to experiment with that zu tender."

"Yeah, and then who's gonna eat it?"

"Well," Ignis said, looking down at his shirt and picking off an invisible piece of lint, "I was hoping maybe you all wouldn't mind trying it . . .."

"Uh huh, my point exactly. That's not personal, Ig. Use group funds for that shit."

"Yeah, it gets awkward with group funds, but speaking of, I spoke to Ana, the plant manager at EXINERIS. She directed me to an engineer named Holly, who had a bunch of errands for us," Laura said. She reached into her shopping bag to surreptitiously summon a piece of paper, which she handed to Ignis. "I also collected some others from people around town as I explored."

"There may be some duplicates. We've spoken to all the market stall owners," Ignis said, looking the list over. "But there are several here we don't have."

Noct stayed quiet, watching the two of them interact very closely. As far as he could tell, everything seemed perfectly normal. Actually, they looked even less friendly than usual, standing farther apart and not nerding out like they usually did in a place like this. Maybe their not-date had been just as weird as his walk with Iris this morning.

"So are we gonna get star—" Noct began, but he couldn't spit the rest of his sentence out as another white-hot poker pierced through his skull between his eyes. The ground threatened to shake itself from beneath his boots as he gripped his head between his hands.

"Another headache?" Ignis asked, concern coloring his tone. "That's the third one this morning."

"This is _not_ normal," Gladio growled.

"I'm fine, you guys, really," he managed through clenched teeth, breathing through the pain as it began to fade.

"Three tremors, too. That can't be a coincidence, man," Prompto said.

"I'm—"

"It's not a coincidence," Laura interrupted in a hard voice. "Are you all right? Really, don't try to be tough."

"Uh . . . yeah, I think so. The pain goes away as soon as the tremors stop, but it leaves a headache. Why?"

"It's telepathy. Every time the ground shakes, a telepathic howl goes out—vast, very powerful, but wordless. I thought they were trying to contact me, but I haven't been able to establish a connection. I can't even tell where it's coming from. It sounds like it's you they're calling, but they aren't being careful about it."

"Who'd be trying to call Noct telepathically?" Prompto asked. "I mean, phone's the easiest way."

"Perhaps the caller simply lacks Noct's mobile number," Ignis replied airily before looking to Laura and growing serious. "Could the caller hurt him?"

"I'm not getting a feeling of malevolence, but yes, they could if they aren't careful. I could put a temporary block on your head to protect you, but then they wouldn't be able to reach you, either."

"Then no. Let's leave it open for now. Find out what they want," Noct said. He didn't know of any telepathic people on Eos besides Laura and the Crystal, but if they were trying so hard to get a hold of him that they were making the ground shake and all the locals start muttering about the wrath of the Archaean, it must've been really important.

"I don't like this. Can I get your permission to do it if it looks like they made contact but are hurting you? I'd like to be prepared, and touching your mind without permission is a dilemma I'd rather not have to deal with."

Noct hesitated. It wasn't like there were secrets or anything he was keeping, but the idea of Laura taking a stroll through his innermost thoughts sounded pretty creepy.

"You wouldn't . . . look at anything else, right?"

She shook her head. "No, I promise. I don't even really need to go into your mind to do it—just . . . more like your brain."

Noct looked to Ignis. He always seemed to know when a person was trustworthy or not. They all trusted Laura with their lives now, but Noct wasn't sure he was ready to trust her with his head. He'd personally witnessed her killing a man with nothing but her mind just yesterday. What if she slipped or something and killed him on accident?

Ignis seemed to understand what he wanted without him having to say a word. He nodded gravely.

"All right then, yeah," Noct sighed.

"Then I should probably stay close until this gets solved . . . damn. I promised Lili I'd pick up her kids to give her the afternoon off while I did the grocery shopping for Mr. Kirkland. He hasn't been able to leave the house in weeks, and none of his neighbors has been able to do it lately."

"Haven't we only been here like, less than a day?" Prompto asked under his breath.

"Um, I could do that with you, I guess," Noct said, rubbing at the back of his neck. He'd much rather wrangle a bunch of kids for another tour around this market than go to the apothecary . . . and definitely more than going shopping with Iris. "But we gotta be back before Talcott's bedtime. Guess he's got a tip for us about a sword behind a waterfall."

"Which may be the clue to finding our next Royal Tomb, as I haven't yet heard from the Marshal," Ignis said.

"Yeah, so Noct and Prompto can go with Laura. Iggy and I are gonna check out some poisons. Meet you guys back at the Leville for dinner?" Gladio asked.

"Yeah, sure," Noct replied, turning to go with Laura, but Ignis stopped him with a light slap to his shoulder.

"You have my thanks for today, Noct. Do be careful this afternoon, and allow Laura to put the block on if the pain becomes too much."

"You _really_ trust her," Noct said in disbelief.

His eyes flicked to her retreating back before returning. He nodded once. "I do."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

I've redone the days of the week because I imagine they would name them after their own gods. However, it appears to be canon that the months resemble Earth's current calendar, hence we have June.

Lucis seems the type to have a different system of measurement from the rest of the world just as the U.S. does, so even though Japan and therefore Insomnia would likely use the metric system, they get the imperial system while the rest of the world gets metric.

As Altissia is Not-Venice, Insomnia is Not-Tokyo, Tenebrae is Not-Normandy, etc., Lestallum is Not-Havana, and I have filled in world building based on that, the idea that followers of Titan live in the area, etc. This is also why they speak Spanish, though an influx of Altissians combined with language drift explains this in-universe.

It turns out pineapples already existed on this world. Pretend they didn't.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note:**

Warnings: Violence, angst, and death mention.

* * *

Noct let out a shuddering breath as he stepped out from behind the white wall of rushing water. The rays of the late afternoon sun hit his skin, sending tingling tendrils of warmth bone-deep, but doing little to thaw out his frosty heart. The sensation got a little stronger with each of his ancestor's blessings he collected, and now that the Sword of the Wanderer hovered just beyond the reach of his perception, ready to be called forward to do his bidding, that weight of exhaustion was just a little heavier, his chest just a little hollower. If he closed his eyes, he thought he could feel those three Kings of Yore there with him in that void, whispering. They made him feel powerful. They made him feel like they weren't alone in figuring this all out. But he also felt tainted, like they were a cancer eating away at him.

He wished his dad were alive so he could ask him if this was what it was supposed to feel like.

"Whew! Thought I was gonna freeze my nuts off in there!" Prompto exclaimed, shifting from foot to foot to shake the chill of the icy cave.

"Why didn't you think to bring a jacket, Prom?" Laura asked.

Prompto swung the jacket that Laura usually wore with her bodysuit around his back and slipped it off his arm. "Didn't have time to get the full set of Crownsguard stuff made. Only just passed the day before we left! And . . . I guess I kinda forgot to bring mine. Thanks for letting me borrow yours, since no one _else_ would."

"How else are you gonna learn?" Gladio asked.

"Not by freezing to death, that's for sure."

"Now, now, we aren't so cold-hearted as to let you perish," Ignis said.

"Well, he _was_ the most naked of all of us, running around in those cutoff sleeves," Laura pointed out. "I felt bad every time his teeth started clacking together."

"You forgetting someone?" Gladio asked, gesturing with a hand to his abs like a gameshow host. "Pretty naked here myself."

"I happen to know for a fact that you brought several coats with you, including the snow gear," Ignis said, "so any perceived suffering was of your own free will."

"You don't need to make up an excuse to borrow my jacket, anyway, Gladio. I would've paid good money to watch you try and squeeze into it."

"Really? How much we talkin'?"

"So I guess we can finally tell Talcott his tip about the waterfall paid off," Noct said, turning to look back at the gushing cascade set between two rocky cliffs towering over their heads. He wondered how it was possible for the cave set only a few feet into the rock face to be so cold. Maybe it was magic.

Ignis pulled his jacket more tightly around him, still shivering a little. "He'll be as happy to hear it as we are to have it behind us."

"So does that mean we're ready to put Lestallum in the rearview mirror?" Prompto asked. "Think we're outta hunts that won't . . . y'know, kill us."

"Yeah, where to next, Specs?"

"It's up to you, Noct."

Noct stepped over a mossy green rock, careful to plant his foot in the grass and not the slippery wet patch of muddy slime closer to the river's edge. "All right, all right. I'll check the map tonight."

"And remember to cross-reference not only the locations and the efficiency of the route, but also the Marshal's notes on their particular perils."

"Yeah," Laura agreed. "I don't think we're ready for some of those yet."

"Great. I'll do that."

The wind gusted from behind them, blowing his hair in his eyes and carrying on it a cloud of chilly mist that had gathered at the base of the waterfall, making him shiver. He couldn't wait to get out of this place and get back to the city, where it was safe and loud instead of deadly and quiet.

But the vibration of his shiver seemed to linger after the chill had passed, starting at his feet and rattling its way up his legs.

"What—not again."

"Another tremor!" Gladio warned unnecessarily.

Noct had just enough time to put a hand against a wet bolder to brace himself before that now-familiar poker pierced his skull. But instead of lodging itself between his eyes and fading away as it had the last fifty times, it stayed, growing white hot until it felt like his brain was being burned to ash.

"Ahh!" he cried out through clenched teeth, the sound torn from his throat by the force of his agony. He clutched desperately at his head, falling to his knees to try and escape the pain.

He thought he could hear concerned murmurs in the distance—the faint, familiar voices of his friends rising in pitch and volume the longer it took for him to choke out an answer, but it was like the control he'd once had over his body had been ripped away—that _he_ had been ripped away and dumped in this place instead, where images were being violently shoved at his face—pressing, burning, suffocating. Deprived of his body, he couldn't step back from them; there was nowhere for him to retreat. He tried to scream for someone, _anyone_ , to help, but the visions were coming so fast that he couldn't even manage to gasp in a breath.

A molten orange eye surrounded by stone skin. A view of the Disc of Cauthess—a view closer, closer, closer. The meteor, its stone spires rising to the blue sky. The meteor was consumed by cold blue fire, and the fire was burning his brain from the inside out.

Noct couldn't be sure, but he thought he felt something cool touch his face, sliding up his cheeks to his temples and behind his ears. They felt like fingers. He tried to shake his head out of their loose grip, but as with the fiery images, he couldn't even retreat from them.

 _Try to hold still, Noctis,_ he heard Laura's voice echoing in his head, way too close to his thoughts to be hearing in his ears. _This will just take a second._

 _Help me,_ he wanted to call to her, but his voice, like everything else, was held in the iron grip of whatever was still hurling those burning images at him.

Tiny points of golden light began to burst across his eyes like fireworks, growing faster and thicker until they formed a cloud of iridescent sparkles. They raced forward and spread themselves thin to form a wall just before slamming into the images with incredible force, shoving them back. The grip on his body loosened just enough for him to suck in a gasp of air.

The fire fought back, flinging a vision of the orange eye at the gold, but the wall held, glowing brighter and sparkling faster as it reared up and bashed itself against the fire again.

 _ **eos?**_ the fire screamed, fearful and furious—and again, too close to his thoughts. Noct wondered if the voice realized that someone not from Eos was helping him.

This—whatever this was—felt too much like an invasion of his identity. Was this all happening in his head? Was this telepathy?

Laura's response was just as livid, but gentler, darker, and somehow more terrifying.

 _No. What have you done?_

But instead of answering, the fire slammed itself back against the golden wall.

Noct had never really considered himself fragile. Even when he'd been injured as a kid, he'd picked himself up and got back to his life as soon as he'd fully healed—he'd had no choice. But standing here in this unfamiliar realm where there was no such thing as a sword to summon or magic to use, where he wasn't sure if he even had a body to fight _with_ , he was rendered helpless and powerless as he watched two limitless entities clash so close to everything that made him who he was. He felt so small, so . . . mortal.

 _All right. He isn't going to tell me what he wants. We're hanging up now,_ Laura's voice growled, seeming to come from everywhere at once in this place. A muffled, fuzzy feeling settled over his head as though someone had tossed a blanket over it, and his awareness of their attacker disappeared.

 _He's done a little damage. Just hold still for a minute longer, Noctis, or you're going to have one hell of a headache for a few days._

 _Um . . . okay._ Was he talking back to her? Could she even hear him? He wished she would just get out of his head already so they could talk like normal.

 _Yes_ , she chuckled, but her voice sounded tired to him. _I can hear you. Just give me a moment, and I'll be out of your head._

Noct thought for a second that she was removing the blanket that protected him from the attacker as the fuzzy feeling lifted, but the images didn't return. Instead, what felt like a gentle rain began to fall on him, washing away the pulsing headache in soothing drops of water.

So, that was what it felt like to be touched by a telepath. All things said and done, he'd rather not do it again if he didn't have to. Truthfully, he found Laura's presence just as creepy as the eyeball.

Noct felt the fingers slip from his cheeks, and it was only as three variations of "Are you okay?" assaulted him along with the roaring rush of the waterfall did he remember that he could probably open his eyes now. The sight of the guys hovering over the two of them was wavering a little, the vertigo making him sick to his stomach.

"I think we get the message," Laura said shakily, sitting back on her knees. She took Gladio's offered hand and let him pull her to her feet. She looked down at Noct, pale and trembling a little, a scowl twisting her expression. "The Archaean would like a word with you. Can't say I approve of his methods of communication."

"You okay?" Prompto murmured again as he pulled him up.

"Yeah, thanks."

"So that was Titan the whole time? Why would he attack you like that?"

Noct took a somewhat wobbly step toward the path that would lead them to the Regalia, finding that his shaking knees would hold him. "Let's go pay him a visit and ask," he growled.

Ignis cast both him and Laura a stern, assessing look, but fell into step beside them. "It may have been unintentional. After all, it is said the very reason Messengers exist is because the gods cannot communicate directly with mortals."

"Well then he should've hired Hermes or sent an email, because crashing through the natural defenses of a human mind like that is dangerous. There's no excuse for that," Laura snapped. "He's lucky I'm limited on this world and he's so far away. That man needs a proper lesson in telepathic etiquette."

"Don't hold back, Laura," Gladio teased. "Tell us how you really feel."

She brought a trembling hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. Some of us have worked for centuries to build proper relations and trust with apaths, following very strict rules of conduct. All it takes is for one person to rip it all down and give the rest of us a bad reputation."

"Are _you_ all right?" Ignis asked her.

"I'll be fine. Telepathic fights aren't exactly pleasant, but I'll live."

"So I guess the Six are telepathic, too?" Prompto asked.

"Looks that way," Noct said, shaking his head to make sure everything was still . . . there. He felt wrong somehow, loose and weak. What he really needed one of Iggy's hot meals and a long nap.

"That must've been what Regis meant about potential issues with allies," Laura said thoughtfully. "The gods and the Old Kings both seem . . . less than friendly. But there's something more. Something they're hiding."

"No kidding," he said bitterly. Could they possibly have been any less prepared for any of this? Even his dad hadn't . . . but it was easier not to think about everything the both of them hadn't said before it was too late.

"Heads up, guys. We got shieldshears," Gladio barked, shoving Noct's shoulder aside to run ahead, where four dark-shelled crab-like creatures were advancing on them, their pointed legs scurrying silently over the wet moss. Just as one of the giant crabs in the lead raised a massive claw to smash Gladio into the mossy stone, he raised a fist and summoned a sword to meet it with an ear-ringing clang that echoed over the walls of the ravine.

Laura stepped back against the rock, murmuring to Ignis, "Really, I'm fine. Go dance with them."

Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

Noct was done trying to figure those two out. As they'd all spent the last week running errands for the townspeople and hunting for bounties in the wilderness nearby, the two of them had barely spoken a word to each other, but it didn't seem like they were fighting, either. In fact, Noct couldn't recall a time when he'd ever seen Specs in such a good mood for such a long stretch. He'd outdone himself every night this week with a new recipe, claiming each meal to be more elaborate than the last, and he'd barely complained at all whenever Noct and Prompto spent most of every evening at the arcade.

As he reached the combat area, he could hear Iggy calling out from behind, "Polearms and firearms are best here. Highness, might I suggest the ice spears we purchased the other day?"

"Whatever you say, Ig." He paused for a second, trying his best to picture the new spear in his mind without closing his eyes. The spear solidified in his hand, and he looked to Ignis beside him. "Should we gang up or divide and conquer?"

"I see no reason we couldn't each pinch one for ourselves," he said with a sniff before planting the tip of his spear in the ground and pole vaulting to land on the back of the nearest shieldshear.

Noct rolled his eyes and looked over at Prompto, who already had his mythril pistol out and was positioning himself to fire on the outermost shieldshear. "Go ahead and do your thing then."

"Aww yeah, already on it, baby!" he said with a laugh before getting off his first shot.

Noct took the shieldshear that Gladio hadn't chosen and warp-struck right into the thing's face, burying his spear into what he thought was the eye, but it was hard to tell. The crab's claws were huge—about the size of four of him, and much, much heavier. He spun away with each slam to the ground, the displacement of air washing over him like a wave inches away from his side. The deafening clack of shell on stone pounded in his already sensitive head, the vibration of the impact rattling his legs.

Even after all these weeks spent hunting almost every day, it was still difficult to gather the speed and strength in the warp dimension to slam his blade through the animal's thick, tough armor, but if he kept warp-striking the same spot over and over, he found he was able to work a miniscule crack in it. The problem was those godsdamn claws as the crab leapt into the air and somehow managed to raise their weight above its head with those tiny little arms. It should've been impossible.

He had just leapt over an outstretched leg and was about to attack with another warp-strike when he heard Prompto yell, "Noct, look out!"

Noct's sight was filled with a blur of snapping crab claws. He couldn't tell from which direction the threat was coming, so he leapt back as far as he could.

Wrong move.

Something hit him in the back of the head hard, rattling his teeth and making him see stars.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Noct," he heard Gladio call out.

"Here," Ignis said, rushing forward to press a potion into his hand.

Noct squeezed it until the bottle cracked beneath his fingers, letting out a breath as the cool wash of magic soothed the headache. "Thanks."

"Hey! Try phasing next time," Gladio added.

"The next time you kick me in the head?" he complained, but it was good advice. He'd forgotten he could do that, since warp-striking was really the only power he used beyond making elemental spells and supplementing potions.

His shieldshear leapt at him before he could raise his sword again, but this time, he started the warp process and held it there, watching the world go translucent in a haze of bluish sparkles. Usually, he'd slow time in order to meet his attacker in the blink of an eye, but he held it steady, letting the claws pass through his body as though he were nothing but a shadow. The shimmering blue magic floated around him like fireflies, and he took the moment of safety to glance around. The world was actually kind of pretty like this.

"Excellent, Noct!" he heard Ignis say in an echoing, faraway voice.

Noct drew in a slow, deep breath and phased into solid matter, instantly shoving the tip of his spear into a crack in his crab's shell dripping blue blood onto the wet stone below. The shieldshear twitched as he viciously twisted the blade into what was probably its brain. It finally collapsed to the ground with a violent shudder, and Noct staggered back to where Prompto already lay on the ground and collapsed next to him, panting.

"I could fall asleep right here," Prompto said dreamily.

"Yeahhh," Noct sighed, even though the damp was seeping through his jacket _and_ his t-shirt. He was really, really tired all the sudden. He closed his eyes, beginning to doze a little as the rushing river and regular cracking of crab legs being pulled from their corpses lulled him to sleep.

He heard Ignis sigh.

"What's wrong? Thought seafood would make you happy, Specs, especially something this big."

"He'd better be happy," Prompto muttered. "Needed four potions for that one crab. I almost died."

"What it's gained in size, it will have lost in flavor," he heard Ignis growl, followed by a particularly vicious crack of crab joint. "Not to worry. While not especially flavorful, it contains ample dietary fiber and makes for a filling meal. In fact, I believe I've just come up with a new recipe."

"Another one?" Noct moaned.

"Glad to know our near-deaths could inspire you," Prompto added.

"Yes. Just imagine what I could have come up with had it followed through."

"Dude," Prompto muttered, rolling over to face Noct. "I can never tell if he's serious when he talks like that."

Noct shrugged.

"Come on," Gladio said. "Fear makes food taste better anyway. We could taste test for ya when we get back to the hotel, Igs."

A sudden shadow passed over his eyes, and thinking they were about to be attacked again, Noct jerked himself upright. He whirled around, summoning a sword to his hand, but it was only Laura standing over him.

"You all right down there?"

"Yeah," he replied, deflating a little as he dismissed his weapon. "Just tired."

"The sooner you get up from the dirt, the sooner we can return to the hotel, where you can get a decent night's rest," Ignis said.

As much as he felt like arguing, the idea of a warm, soft bed was better than the cold, wet rock he was sitting on. He tried not to grumble or think of any insults to hurl in Ignis's direction as he heaved himself to his feet and trudged after Gladio. Gaping gaps between sharp boulders and slippery, treacherous patches of slimy moss forced him to keep his eyes locked on the ground ahead, and he heard Prompto catch himself from falling several times before their feet hit the flat grass of the riverside meadow again.

But their long hike wasn't over yet. They still had to follow the winding dirt path and march up that endless staircase before he could rest in the Regalia. Six, he just wanted some sleep.

"Why do these old tombs have to be in the middle of nowhere?" Prompto complained, voicing exactly what Noct had been thinking.

"Cause we ain't headin' out to the local Pump N' Munch for chips and beer. It's not supposed to be convenient," Gladio said. "They're supposed to prove the Prince is ready to be King."

"Indeed," Ignis agreed. "As well as ensuring that the royal artifacts go undisturbed."

They were still several yards from the dirt path when something landed on Noct's shoulder with a heavy, wet splat. That was weird; looking up at the bright summer sky, he didn't even see that many clouds overhead.

"Ugh, don't tell me it's gonna rain now. Haven't I been tested enough today?"

Another splat, and suddenly they were coming faster, instantly soaking his clothes to the skin and weighing his hair down. But he'd walked through way too many rainstorms since leaving Leide; there was something not right about this rain. He held his hand out to catch the drops and watched as they beaded up before sliding off his skin. As he rubbed the greenish-looking fluid between his fingers, he thought it felt too oily to be water.

"This isn't rain," Noct said.

"No, I don't think it is," Laura said. "Sorry guys, telepathy's muffled a bit after the thing with the Archaean. My range is pretty much point blank right now."

Just as his brain began to register a chilling burn blazing a path from his shoulders to his fingertips, Prompto dropped to the ground next to him without a sound.

"Prompto?" His eyes were closed, his chest heaving for breath. Noct bent over to get a closer look, but a wave of vertigo struck him hard just as his legs turned numb. He fell, nearly landing on Prompto's slack face as he rolled to the side to keep from smashing him.

"What's . . . happening?" he gasped.

Noct's view of the still-clear sky darkened when Ignis leaned into his line of sight, his hands on his knees, his mouth hanging open as he tried to take in enough air. "It appears to be some kind of toxin. Quickly—the antidotes."

His thoughts growing thudding and slippery, Noct raised his hands to his face, trying to remember how to summon something without being sick. What did an antidote look like again? Circles. Specs had said the three silver circles on top were reminiscent of a time when antidotes had been administered by injection. A hazy image of the dark red bottle topped by those three silver circles wavered in his mind's eye, and he reached into his magic to pull the image into this dimension.

The relief was instantaneous when he broke the fragile ether glass over himself, the liquid splashing over his bare hand and dripping down his arms as the container turned to dust and floated away on the warm breeze. He sucked in an unhindered breath and sat up to inspect the others.

Gladio and Iggy appeared to have already taken their antidotes and, on seeing that Noct was recovered, watched Laura breaking another between Prompto's hands, her own shaking violently.

"Whew," Prompto exclaimed, sitting up and shaking the poison out of his hair. "Thanks, Laura."

"What about yourself?" Ignis asked when she didn't summon another antidote. "Clearly, you aren't immune."

She pushed herself up up and scooted back to the cliff wall. "I can't," she replied in a trembling voice, her face pale and a little green. "But my body is already working to rid itself of it. It'll take care of itself in time. You'd better go handle _that_ though before it decides to do it again."

Noct hauled himself to his feet and looked in the direction she'd indicated.

"Oh man, it's a SNAKE!" Prompto screamed, pointing unnecessarily. "A really, really, ridiculously huge SNAKE!"

No two ways about it, they were screwed.

Fifty feet of thick, quivering muscle coiled directly in their path, trapping them between it and two forks of the rushing, rocky river. The snake's black scales glittered in the late afternoon light as it raised its head and fixed them with a beady black eye, its vibrant pink tongue flicking out to taste the air.

"How can we get around this thing, Ig?" Gladio asked under his breath, not moving a muscle. "After the caves and the shieldshears, don't think we got it in us."

"Yeah," Noct agreed.

"A-and it's not l-like we can go b-back. Nothing but the c-cave that way," Prompto squeaked.

"I suppose we have no choice," Ignis said with a sigh. "We can hardly wait for it to leave; judging by its extreme behavior, it's likely defending its nest and will stay to the death now that it's spotted us."

"What're we looking at?" Noct asked.

"A midgardsormr—weakest to swords, daggers, and ice. I believe we've already been subjected to its most effective offensive ability, but we must exercise caution. This creature is beyond us even under the most ideal of circumstances," he replied, his eyes sliding to where Laura lay slumped against the wall, her arms wrapped around her as she shivered.

"We'll call on her as a last resort. She's in no shape for a fight," Gladio murmured, but he didn't look away from the snake in front of them, which had begun to dance and sway, its hood flaring out as though preparing to strike. "Welp, no use standing around talking about it. Let's get started."

Prompto watched Gladio rush forward with a grimace, but summoned his pistol nevertheless. "I'm just . . . gonna be takin' shots from over there." He pointed to the open patch of rock in the corner where the two river branches met.

Noct rolled his eyes and jogged after Gladio, Ignis only a step ahead of him. "Whatcha got for me, Specs?"

Gladio had reached the hulking coil of muscle and fangs and leapt in the air, summoning a greatsword and slicing the heavy steel into the snake's side as he landed. The midgardsormr threw its head back, hissing wildly.

"Follow me," Ignis said with a sly grin, summoning his daggers and falling into a cartwheeling tumble toward the base of the writhing coil. Noct gathered his legs beneath him for a leap before somersaulting in the air to drive his sword down next to Ignis's strike—where the spine was less protected by the thick layer of muscle. Using the hilt as a handle, he swung around to the other side of its body, twisting the steel and tearing into muscle and bone.

While Gladio spun in front of him to dodge an ice flask Prompto had tossed, Noct warped to a rest point to charge up. Six, he needed a break, not a couple of seconds to breathe on a rock. But he took his deep breath and returned to the fray, executing a series of warp-strikes to the snake's head while the guys swerved away from its heavy body slithering surprisingly swiftly over the sandy soil. He didn't relent until he began to grow dizzy from the constant tumbling and shifting in and out of this plane of existence. The second Noct landed on top of the rock again, the midgardsormr threw its head back and spat another shower of oily venom into the air to fall on their heads.

"Everyone got it?" Prompto yelled in the distance, an antidote already disappearing beneath his fist.

Noct cracked an antidote, then a hi-potion, before checking to see that Specs and Gladio had taken care of themselves. He spared Laura a brief glance to see her still green and trembling, but at least standing now, against the cliff face out of range of the poison rain.

"Yeah, thanks, Prompto."

Turning his mind away from whether Laura was gonna be okay, he examined the field, trying to figure out the next step to take. It might've been Ignis's job to strategize their attacks beforehand, but Noct was responsible for knowing what everyone's abilities were and calling on them at appropriate times during the battle. And right now, they weren't really doing well enough for him to call on anyone.

"Don't you go quittin' on me," Gladio muttered to Ignis, placing a hand on his shoulder. Noct summoned a hi-potion and tossed it so it broke across his back.

"How unbecoming," Ignis complained.

"You think you got enough to do that new Overwhelm thing you do now?" Noct asked him.

Ignis's eyes cleared, and he drew himself up to his full height. In a voice blazing with determination, he commanded, "Give it all we got!"

"Uh huh!" Noct cheered, invigorated by Ignis's unusual brand of magic, which somehow lent the group his ability to concentrate on a single enemy. Hyper-focused, Noct warp-struck up to the snake's head and did his best to keep the dripping fangs from attacking his team while they handled the meatier portion of its torso.

They could do this. And then they were gonna drop that thing's head in the middle of the main square of Lestallum to show everyone they'd rid the world of this monster for good.

But without warning, their quarry reared up and dove, driving itself into the ground and displacing a heavy cloud of dust as it disappeared in a patch of dirt.

"Where the fuck did it go?" Gladio roared.

"I don't know, but let us retreat while we still can," Ignis replied.

"Right," Noct agreed, waving at Laura and scrambling toward the path to safety, but he'd only managed three strides when the midgardsormr burst through the ground in front of them with a thunderous tremor that threw Prompto off balance.

"Run!" Noct cried out, grabbing Prompto by the scruff of his vest and dragging him out of the way. The snake's entire massive body was somehow flying high in the air above their heads, and when it flopped to the ground only feet behind them, Noct swore he could feel his teeth vibrating in his skull with the force of the impact.

"Whew! That was close!" Prompto sighed as they stumbled behind a boulder, followed by Gladio and Ignis. "This thing's gonna kill us. Should we call in Laura, you think?"

"We can turn the tide yet!" Ignis exclaimed. "Noct and I will keep the head distracted while the two of you aim for the heart. Come!"

Ignis dashed forward to meet the snake's glistening fangs, summoning his ice spear to drive the point deep into the roof of its mouth, and Noct stumbled forward to help, trying his best to shake the exhaustion weighing his arms down and cementing his feet to the ground.

"Ig!" Gladio bellowed over another hiss that drowned out the river behind them. "Where the fuck the heart's s'posed to be?"

"Gladio, look out!" Prompto yelled just as the midgardsormr whipped its head in Ignis's direction, pushing one of the coils in Noct's direction to throw him to the ground. The writhing, scaly mass of muscle scraped roughly over his face and down his body as it slithered over him unharmed, but the breath knocked from his lungs had left him shaking and convulsing on the ground, unable to summon a weapon to stab at the monster's thick flesh. When he could sit up again, Noct searched frantically for Gladio. Noct spotted him near the trailhead just as the creature's sweeping tail slammed into him, throwing him out of the battle area and bashing him against the cliff face. He slid down the rock and fell in a heap, unmoving.

"Gladio!" Noct called out desperately, but he relaxed a little when he saw Laura shuffling toward him, a bottle of what looked like a hi-potion clutched in her hand. He was about to turn back to helping Ignis when something slammed into him from the side with a soft, "Highness."

Pain radiated through his shoulder and hip at his second impact on the stone. He ignored it and rolled himself upright—just in time to see the corner of the snake's jaw close around Ignis's shoulder.

"No!"

One of the bone-white fangs drove deep into his chest. For a second, Noct refused to believe that this was really happening, that he had been mistaken and that Ignis had only been clipped, but thick, dark blood was already dripping down Ignis's chest, staining his shirt and the shiny black scales around the snake's lips.

The left side of his chest. It had pierced his heart.

"IGNIS!"

Noct didn't know how they had the time, but they locked eyes. His face drained and his pupils suddenly dilated as the life left them. Noct took a breath—intent to say or do _something_ , but all he could do was stand there useless. A whoosh of air was pressed from Noct's lungs as the midgardsormr flung its head back and tossed his friend's body like a used rag across the field.

Time slowed. Noct could hear his own breath overly loud in his ears, could feel the blood beating against his temples. As Laura collapsed to her knees by his dead friend's side and dragged his limp body into her lap, all he could think was that this past month had to have been some kind of nightmare he was gonna wake up from any second.

Specs's glasses had nearly been knocked off his head; his face was slack and bone white, his pale-blue lips drooped into a slight frown even in death. And though he couldn't see Laura's expression, Noct knew she couldn't save him. All those years teasing him about being a robot, and now his blood was staining her arms up to her elbows as she bent over his body and frantically pressed her palms into the gaping wound torn in his chest, rocking back and forth in grief.

Ignis Scientia, Noct's oldest friend, the man who'd been there for him through literally everything, was really, truly dead.

Noct's world suddenly focused into a sharp point.

He'd thought he'd felt lost when his dad had died, but lying deep beneath the pain of his loss, Noct had known that day was going to come sooner rather than later ever since he was a kid. He'd talked with Ignis about it several times, usually against his will, and even though neither of them had ever speculated he would become a casualty of the war, Noct had grown not to rely on him for anything in preparation for the day he would die.

Instead, he'd gone to Ignis whenever he needed advice—with his homework, when he had a shitty day at school, when Gladio was pushing his training too hard, when that girl had betrayed him. And now that Ignis was gone forever, it only took a nanosecond to realize how lost Noct _really_ was, how much he needed his advice, friendship, and approval. He didn't know the first thing about being a king, let alone the Chosen King, and maybe Ignis hadn't known, either, but they'd had a better shot at figuring it out when he was still alive. Fuck, Noct didn't even know where they were supposed to go after this, let alone everything else that needed to be done to get the Crystal back.

That should've been him lying there on the ground, not Ignis.

All those years. All that history together. Ignis knew more about him than anyone alive, and now that he had given his life for Noct's like he and Gladio had been making jokes about for years now, Noct saw it all so clearly. Only twenty-two years on this world—gods, they were all just stupid kids, really—and Ignis's entire life had been spent in service, living for _him_ instead of finding his own path and changing the world with his brilliant mind. There was no amount of torture a man could go through to inspire that kind of devotion. It'd had nothing to do with how he'd been raised, after all.

When Ignis had told him the other day that he'd always be there, Noct had still believed it was out of a sense of duty, but this was too much to sacrifice on his behalf for a job. Ignis had been his _brother_ , and in his final moments of life, he'd finally returned the sentiment.

But Specs had gone and broken his promise; he'd gone and left him.

He was gone.

"Laura, above you!" Gladio's shout knocked through the thoughts that had stolen the breath from him more effectively than any blow he'd taken in battle. Noct had no idea when Gladio had returned to his side after Laura had fixed him up, but he was throwing himself back in her direction, and all Noct could do was stand there like an idiot, his legs refusing to move. Somehow, if he got any closer to the gruesome scene in front of him, it would become real. And he wanted nothing more in this world to live for one more second in denial because things were about to get worse.

Gladio wouldn't make it to her in time.

The midgardsormr rounded on Laura and Ignis and struck like lightning, its hood flared and its fangs bared.

And still, the only action he could take was to stand frozen and watch as Laura looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks but a calm expression on her deathly pale face. She held out a palm as though to caress the serpent's nose, but when it made contact with her hand, vivid blue streams of light shot from her fingertips and burst into a web that stretched to the ground around her and Ignis like a bubble. The shield shimmered with a spiraling scrollwork of sparkling blue frost that exploded in an icy blast, forcing Noct to cover his eyes as it passed over them—unfelt, it seemed.

Something popped in Noct's ears, and time reasserted itself.

But it was too quiet. There was only the rustling of the wind through the trees and rushing of water over stones. The crystalized corpse of the snake lay coiled around his dead brother, and his friend was lying awkwardly on her knees, limp on top of him.

A small voice buzzed in his ear as though someone were screaming at him from very far away.

"HEY! WAKE UP!"

Something grabbed at his jacket and shook him hard.

"What?" He tore his eyes away from the waking nightmare to see Gladio in his face, his pupils constricted, his massive fists balling in Noct's jacket.

"Iggy needs you. We don't got time for you to freeze up right now!"

Was he the only one who'd seen what had just happened? Was he the only one who got just how much shit they were in because Ignis was . . ..

He violently shoved Gladio away from him. "IGGY'S DEAD!"

"Pull yourself together, damn it! You need to give him the phoenix down before he's dead for good."

Fuck. He'd forgotten. How could he have forgotten? In his defense, the Crownsguard he'd trained with had never needed to use it and therefore rarely mentioned it; it was most often used by the Glaives in more serious combat situations when his dad could spare the energy. But his dad had taught him how to make them all those years ago that one time, and even Ignis had covered them in elemental theory.

His hands shaking so badly he could barely grip his sword's hilt, he tossed his blade and warped to where the pair lay. Another precious second passed as he stared down at Laura's limp body, but whether she was dead or not, he couldn't do anything for her. He gently pushed her dead weight from her protective position over Ignis's chest to reveal the man himself.

Noct was surprised at how familiar Specs still seemed to look—even with his glasses askew, his skin a sickening white, and his stupid coeurl-print shirt soaked in his blood. He could feel the gorge rising in his throat, but he forced himself to swallow it. They didn't have a lot of time left. How long people could hold on before a phoenix down wouldn't work anymore varied from person to person, and no one really knew how long the minimum was. It didn't really matter. Ignis had to wake up. He _had_ to.

He summoned the phoenix down—useless as a curative until he imbued it with his own life's energy. He should really make a few of these in case he wasn't around for the next emergency. Once he had pulled his life force and magic from deep within and pushed it at the bottle, he pressed it to Ignis's wound, willing it, praying to every one of the Six and anyone else who would listen, for it to work.

"Check her pulse," he heard Gladio instruct Prompto from behind him, but Noct wasn't paying attention to what they were doing.

The feathered flask had shattered. Whatever its contents really were touched the open air and ignited, dousing Ignis's body in a blanket of bright orange flames that looked way too much like a funeral pyre for Noct's liking, but as the fire licked at his clothes, Ignis drew in a sharp, deep breath. The flames seemed to dance their way up to Ignis's head until they flickered away.

No—they hadn't disappeared. That same fire was still dancing in Ignis's eyes when they shot open—full of terror and wonder—but Noct didn't care because he was _alive_.

"R—Highness?" Ignis gasped.

"Ignis! You're okay!"

He didn't give a shit the other guys were watching or that there was still Laura to deal with. He seized Ignis's shoulders and yanked him to a sitting position, then leaned forward to squeeze him as hard as he could. A brief moment passed before Ignis drew his arms around his back and patted him gently in return.

"Yes, I'm quite all right. Thank you."

Noct pulled back to glare at him. "Don't _ever_ do that again!"

"I shall make my most sincere attempt, Highness. It certainly isn't an experience I care to repeat if I can help it."

He leaned forward, raising a hand to clutch at his temple with a grimace, but his fingertips grazed against his glasses instead, which were nearly vertical on his face. He pulled them off and placed them back precisely where they should've been, bracing them on each side with both hands and giving them a little wiggle before he was fully satisfied.

"Whoa there. You sure you're okay to get up?" Gladio asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Your head shouldn't be hurting at all."

"My head is just fine. I'm . . . well . . . invigorated, I should say."

"Yeah, I don't envy you, man. End of the battle like this? You're in for a rough night, if the stories are true."

"Mmm," Ignis hummed, pink staining his cheeks. "Better than the alternative."

"What're you guys talking about?" Noct asked.

"Uh . . . yeah, sorry to interrupt, but I think this is more important?" Prompto said hesitantly. "I mean, I'm really glad you're okay, Iggy. The fire thing looks badass, but um . . . she's got a pulse, but it's like, really, really fast, and it feels like a weird rhythm." He tapped out four quick beats on Laura's wrist, rested a beat, and tapped out another four.

"What's happened to Laura?" Ignis demanded, twisting around to look at the pale green figure contorted on the ground behind him. Prompto was on his knees by her side, just beginning to try and pull her folded legs straight, but he couldn't seem to lift her high enough to pull them free from beneath her.

"Oh, you know," Prompto said with an uncomfortable laugh, tugging at her foot, "one of us gets hurt and she has to go and practically kill herself to save us. Been using her magic again."

Ignis scrambled to his knees and slid his hand next to Prompto's underneath her back, lifting her just enough so they could pull her feet out and straighten her legs.

"No . . . she didn't," Gladio said, leaning down to place two fingers on her neck while Ignis picked her wrist up. "It was some advanced shit, but that was all Glaive magic."

"She's a mage?" Ignis asked, looking up suddenly. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, with her native magical talent. I hadn't given it much thought after the warping in Longwythe."

"We couldn't've known. Just because she can warp doesn't make her a mage, and maybe the King put her in the mage uniform instead of the Glaive because she looked hot."

"Time and a place, Gladio," Ignis sighed. "She's not even conscious to appreciate your odd brand of lewd humor."

"You're right. I'll save it for later," he said with a lascivious grin before growing serious. "I dunno what's wrong with her though. The venom shouldn't be making her tachycardic and arrhythmic like this."

"Two hearts," Ignis replied. "Her pulse feels slightly elevated, likely on account of the venom, but it's normal otherwise."

"She gonna be okay, guys?" Noct asked, only a little surprised Specs knew what Laura's pulse was supposed to feel like. He'd probably asked for all her vitals the first day she said they couldn't use potions on her.

"I'm afraid I don't know. If what Gladio says is true, and she used Glaive magic rather than her own, then there's no reason I'm aware of for her to have fallen unconscious, unless the venom is at fault. The Crystal's magic pains her but doesn't drain her energy."

"Uh, she made it sound like her body would take care of the venom automatically," Noct said.

"Yes, I recall. Which means we'll just have to wait, unfortunately."

"We need to get her back to the hotel so she can rest," Gladio said, bending down to pick her up. When Ignis made a noise of protest and positioned himself to lift her, Gladio waved him off. "Need you to take it easy, Ig. You were just dead a minute ago."

"I'm—"

With a small grunt, Gladio pulled Laura into his arms and stood. "Let's get going."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

The lore for potions confused the heck out of me, even doing research on it. I used the two quotes below from the game for the basis of my story rules, and considered "Game Over" to be permanent death for any party member, not just Noct. Yes, I realize they are alive enough to take their own phoenix downs in game, and they do come back to life on their own when the battle is finished, but that's way less dramatic.

"A talisman that takes on miraculous properties by way of Noctis's powers. Brings fallen party members back to life and increases HP and MP recovery rate."

"When Noctis's max HP falls to 0, the player has a window to use a Phoenix Down to restore him before they would get a Game Over."


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Notes:**

Warning: Some angst and minor NSFW

* * *

Ignis was no stranger to the concept of death, even for a man of his age living a seemingly sheltered life in the Citadel behind the magical protection of the Wall. He had in fact been trained to expect it longer than anyone knew. Though Ignis believed the practices his tutors utilized to instill such an instinct to be abhorrent, he could hardly say they were ineffective.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, Ignis had been raised to be, quite literally, Noct's shield.

One of his first and most recurring lessons from the age of three onward was to learn to step between the Prince and any possible oncoming danger without hesitation or regard for his own personal safety. As such, it began around the age of four that Ignis would lie awake in bed most nights, wondering what it would be like if an attempt on the Prince's life were made, successfully taking out Ignis's own. He would imagine all the ways it could happen: spells cast, shots fired, swords drawn, knives thrown . . . a thousand different ways and how he could act to save the Prince's life each night, growing in complexity as he grew older and after he'd met the surprisingly charming boy. Beyond the pride at having fulfilled his duty to the death, he'd wondered what he would feel as he died. No doubt he would be alone in the dark, cold, in immense pain, and terrified beyond any ability to reason, which wasn't that much of an escalation beyond many of the sensations of his childhood.

He hadn't been too far off the mark, at first. Logically, he realized that the near instantaneous loss of so much blood at once was making him feel chilled, and the three-foot-long fang that had pierced his chest before his body was flung halfway across a field to flop on the unforgiving ground was likely responsible for the unimaginable pain radiating through his every nerve. To his shame, the terror began to set in as his mind began to slow. He wasn't ready to go yet; there was still so much of life he wanted to explore.

Desperate, he reached out with whatever was left of him. He didn't know precisely what it was he reached out with because his limbs were no longer obeying his command; they were being dragged across the ground by warm hands clutching his wrists tightly. Still, he reached out with something, and to his immense surprise, he made contact with something that grasped him and held him tight.

"Ignis," a choked voice sobbed in his ears.

Rose. Of course she would be there with him in death—who else? He felt her agony at his loss and echoed it back to her—regretful he couldn't stay, that they couldn't finish that beautiful potential they had started together. But the moment he'd thought it, her anguish disappeared.

 _Don't worry about that, love,_ she said, and though he was glad to hear her call him that at least once before he died, he wished it didn't have to be now, like this.

The moment he heard her voice, somehow even closer than directly in his ear, the pain, the cold, the terror disappeared to be replaced with warmth, light, and love— _oh Astrals_ , the love. It was no wonder she'd been called the Goddess of the Dawn, for dawn was breaking over his mindscape—eternal, gentle, warm golden light—the most incredibly beautiful sunrise he'd ever seen blossoming over his horizon like the kithairon she loved so much and filling him to the brim, spilling over so that he was overflowing with that sparkling emotion.

The sense of aloneness that had plagued him his entire life dispelled instantly as though it had never existed, replaced by that love—adoration bordering on idolization—so intense and tangible that it manifested to become visible. Oh gods, how could one even see a feeling? But it was there, and he could see it, and he wanted to curl his fading soul into it forever and never let go.

But as it had been for much of his life, he had no choice in the matter. Ignis was being pulled away—gently at first, but the tugging on his disembodied identity grew ever more insistent the longer he remained here with her. He could feel her fighting it, holding him closer in this spiritual embrace to keep him there longer, but even his goddess couldn't reverse death.

They had run out of time. His body had been dead for either seconds or an eternity, but either way, there was nothing for his essence to return to, nowhere for him to go but the beyond. Parting words lingered on his lips—the intense desire compelling him to be impetuous and use his last moment of agency in this world to speak the depth of his feelings. And for the first and final time in his life, he surrendered to it.

 _Ro-_ , he began, but stopped when something cracked hard against him, somewhere, and he felt his body once again roaring, blazing to life. At Laura's wordless encouragement, he raced from whatever realm he was currently in, desperate to return to his body before whatever he was now was dragged off into death. He wished he could have stayed, said more before he rushed off, but at least there would still be time to say more in the future.

And Ignis opened his eyes.

* * *

Gladio had laid Laura's lifeless body across the back seat, her feet resting in Prompto's lap and her head resting in Ignis's. He stared vacantly down at her white face as Noct got in the driver's seat and started the Regalia. She was far too still. Had it only been this morning that they had watched the sun rise over the Disc of Cauthess after their lesson? She had been so full of life in that moment that she'd been bursting with it, so he had ensured no one had been looking before leaning in to taste it for himself.

Ignis had spent the last week making up for lost time by kissing her as often as he was able, which still wasn't nearly as frequently as he would've liked. Their liaisons had been confined to early mornings after their lessons or late evenings, when Noct and Prompto would head out to the arcade. Gladio would leave shortly thereafter to handle affairs for his sister, and the two of them would finally be left alone to explore and enjoy this new facet of one another.

He would never tire of kissing her—of skimming his sensitive lips over her mouth and across the soft skin of her neck, allowing the very tip of his tongue to dart out just enough to get a taste of her jaw. It had come as no surprise to him that she even tasted of the wild—of sharp petrichor with the barest hint of sweet grass. And never in his life had he felt more aroused than when her skin would pebble beneath his fingertips, and she would breathe his name on a sigh as though he'd managed to affect her as intensely as she had him.

It had felt so right, so natural, expressing his affection for her this way, even if it did still seem a miracle that he was allowed to do so whenever he wished. She appeared to feel the same, as her stamina for their daily trysts hadn't waned in the slightest. She was just as insatiable as he, kneading insistently at his hip beneath his ministrations and bathing with him in exquisite anticipation for where this was possibly heading.

Of course, what he hadn't realized at the time was that where they were headed looked too much like death. It didn't help that in addition to her slightly green but deathly pale skin, her arms and suit were stained with so much blood that it appeared as though she'd sustained a mortal injury. As the blood was red, and therefore all his own, his logical mind knew better, but he couldn't help but envision the sight as her corpse lying in his lap.

"I dunno you guys. Should we chance giving her an antidote?" Prompto asked. "She looks really sick."

"No. She knew of their existence to administer one to you yet didn't take one herself. Likely she thought it too dangerous for her physiology. All we can do is wait, I'm afraid," he replied, not bothering to even glance in his direction.

Ignis was pleased with himself for managing to hold his composure in that moment—indeed in every moment since he'd awoken—despite the magic of the phoenix down coursing through his veins. He could still see the flames surging on the corners of his vision—could feel the urge to move and strike and _live_ as though it were gnawing at his flesh, but this sitting and doing nothing was in total contradiction to the call in his blood. He didn't want to think about what was in store for him this evening. Stories from the Glaives usually involved finding relief in a battle or a bed, and he wasn't currently in a position to enjoy either. Even if he had the indecency to ask Rose directly, he could hardly do so after all she'd been through today. Her history and the occasional remark may have suggested that they would be as compatible as he'd hoped, but he wouldn't presume that where they were headed was a foregone conclusion.

Hope bloomed in him as Laura's chest rose with a deeper breath, her eyelashes fluttering as though she were about to wake.

"Ignis," she sighed. Her eyes cracked open.

Placing a hand to the side of her neck, he murmured, "I'm here." But her pulse still felt thready, her skin far too cold for his liking. He flung out a hand and summoned one of his spare blazers to drape over her, effectively protecting her from the chill and covering the sight of her bloodied skin. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner?

"You're all . . . right," she whispered, her breath hitching in stress.

He did his best to dispel the edge of agitation the potion was pushing into his nerves and speak soothingly. "Yes, I'm all right. Is there anything we need to do for you, medically speaking?"

She shook her head weakly.

"He's gonna be okay, Laura. We were able to get him a phoenix down in time. Just rest, hear?" Gladio said, turning in the front seat to look her over.

"Fucking potions, thank the stars," she muttered, closing her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Ignis."

"What on Eos could you possibly have to be sorry about?"

"I failed you. I always fail those I . . .—Miriásia, Eilendil, you."

He hadn't an inkling who or what Eilendil was—likely one of the people or civilizations that had died on her during one of her misadventures. Just how many _had_ she held as they died?

"You didn't fail me," he said harshly. "I'm still here." And that statement was probably truer than she realized. Had she not held onto his essence for so long after his body had died, there might not have been anything left of him to reanimate.

But she hadn't heard him, as she'd gone limp in his lap again.

"If anyone failed him today, it was me," Gladio mumbled, and Ignis looked up at him in surprise to see him rubbing a hand over his face.

"And what are _you_ on about?" he asked incredulously.

"You had to do my job cause I wasn't there to do it myself."

"It was my fault," Prompto interrupted the indignant reply hovering on the tip of his tongue. "If I'd been more specific when I warned Gladio, this whole thing wouldn't've happened."

Ignis opened his mouth to argue with the both of them, but snapped it shut when Noct's voice cut through the tense atmosphere of the car. "All of you shut up. No one failed anyone because no one is dead. Do you hear me? NO ONE is dead."

"Yes, Highness," Ignis replied with more than a little reluctance.

After several beats of silence, Gladio turned to inspect Laura again. "She okay?"

"She's fallen unconscious again."

"Mmm." He leaned forward to flip through the radio channels as he always did when he was feeling particularly restless, finally settling on some light, cheery orchestral music in a futile attempt to cover the macabre atmosphere—one of the suites by Mitsuda, he believed. But the silence was heavy with the coppery scent of blood and the turbulent sense of unease, stifling the cabin of the car all the way to Lestallum.

* * *

The green tinge had disappeared from Laura's complexion by the time they pulled into their usual parking spot near the outlook that evening, but she still didn't stir when Ignis maneuvered her out of the seat and into his arms.

Gladio rushed to their side of the car and held his arms out. "Here, I can take her."

Ignis kept his tone even-keeled, but he allowed the literal fire still dancing in the depths of his eyes to silently communicate that he was _not_ a wilting flower or a damsel in distress. "I have her just fine, thank you. If you wouldn't mind clearing a path for us?"

But he needn't have bothered. Recognizing their uniforms, the crowd of nighttime revelers parted before them and gave their party a particularly wide berth, and the lack of shouts or shock as they passed revealed just how accustomed the people of Lestallum were to killed and injured Hunters being carried through their streets. The four of them walked as swiftly as Ignis was able, keeping their heads down as they rushed into the lobby and up the stairs to their suite, safe from prying eyes.

The last thing they needed was for someone to direct them to the small hospital several streets over or to call whatever passed for the authorities in this place.

Ignis didn't pause as he walked Laura directly to the en suite restroom off the bedroom, but he did hear Prompto just as he pushed through the swinging door.

"I'm just . . . gonna put her sheets on the couch, I guess?"

But as he propped Laura up in the corner between the tub and the wall, he realized he had a bit of a problem—he wasn't comfortable with the idea of undressing her, no matter how badly she needed cleaning up. And when he searched his feelings on the matter, he was surprised to find that he didn't wish any of the others undressing her either. He was about to grit his teeth and summon the colder field medic side of himself when Gladio knocked on the partially open door, keeping his face turned away.

"You uh . . . need . . . anything?"

Ignis looked down at Laura, then to Gladio's shoulder peeking around the doorjamb, at a complete loss for how to vocalize what it was he needed.

"I . . ."

Gladio shifted to peer through the door. "Ahh, yeah. Want me to go see if Iris is in?"

"Would you? That would be helpful, thank you," he sighed in relief.

By the time he had removed her jacket and boots, Iris had arrived and promptly shooed him out of the room, so he returned to the living room, only to find a jittery Prompto bouncing a leg up and down as he sat stiffly in one of the armchairs.

"Oh! Uh, hey, Iggy. Um . . . Gladio and Noct went to the other suite to take turns showering."

He settled on the very edge of the remaining chair, careful to touch as little as possible with his filthy clothes caked in dried blood. Suppressing the desire to allow his own leg to bounce just to release _some_ of this pent-up energy, he said smoothly, "Very well. Lady Iris informs me that she should have no trouble handling the task, but she'll call if she has need of us."

"Good . . . good."

The block party that had formed every evening they had spent in Lestallum was well underway by this time of night, but instead of finding it irritating, Ignis took some comfort in the din floating up and through the balcony window. Not only did it fill this inexplicable awkward silence between him and Prompto, it also reminded him a little of home—not quite the late-night buskers at the exits to the underground, the dull roar of a million chattering people as they rushed to wherever they were headed, or the constant rumble of traffic, but close enough to serve as an approximation.

"So uh . . . the fire thing's startin' to look kinda creepy now we're . . . y'know, back here . . . and alone."

"It'll wear off, given time."

With any luck, sooner rather than later. He felt as though he were about to burst from his own skin.

Prompto looked over at him, his eyes shimmering. "I thought you were snake food," he near-whispered. "I'm glad you're not."

He gave Prompto a small, affectionate smile, grateful for the sentiment from the man who was so different from him that Ignis often found him even more alien than Laura. But there was clearly much they didn't understand about one another. Ignis had easily and immediately recognized that cloak of loneliness he always wore about him, but he'd been sorely mistaken when he believed that Prompto didn't have the grit to continue on this mission after the Fall. Yet for all their differences that would often irritate the life out of him, Ignis had done his best to engage him in the same playful, antagonistic sort of friendliness Prompto displayed with the others. He hadn't been certain his somewhat more acerbic style of sarcasm had succeeded until this moment.

"As am I. I can't imagine you making it far on your own."

Prompto's gaze drifted to the open balcony doors. "Yeah."

The two of them went silent at that, though for his part, Ignis felt it was of the comfortable sort that could only be shared with good friends.

It was only after he had carried a freshly sponge-bathed and pajamaed Laura out to the living room and tucked her into the couch with her favorite appalling blanket that he allowed himself a few minutes to clean up. While the rest of his clothes were salvageable, his torn and blood-soaked shirt he threw into a plastic bag to bury in the bin after his shower. Fortunately, they all had several changes of their Crownsguard uniforms to replace when they grew too damaged from their many trials for him to repair.

Before he stepped under the scalding hot spray, he paused for a moment to gaze at his bare chest in the mirror and graze his fingers over the spot his mortal wound no longer existed. Sighing, he decided there was no use dwelling on the matter; he'd already reviewed his life's regrets when he had been thrown back in time. Nothing had changed since.

Stepping under the showerhead, however, was an exercise in self-control, as he swore he felt every drop of water pelt his skin and roll down to his feet as though he were being licked by billions of disembodied tongues. Shuddering at the horror of the image, he decided to wash quickly and forego the rest of his ritual until the morning, by which point the potion would have worn off.

He checked on Laura one more time, finally alone in the room so he could kneel by her side, cup her cool cheek in his palm, and press his lips briefly to her forehead.

"Come back to me," he whispered into her ear. "We have much to discuss, you and I."

Settling into the sheets next to Noct, ignoring the pointed look from Gladio, and turning off the light, Ignis wasn't even sure why he was going through with this charade. He couldn't see how he was going to sleep tonight with the fire still dancing in his eyes, but it was evening—what else could he do? The sheets and his pajamas scraped against his sensitive skin, shooting tingling shivers down his spine as though he had a fever. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he wished he could do _something_ —go for a run, spar with a man twice his size and strength, go out on a hunt and stab something with all his might.

He nearly leapt out of the bed when he felt something touch his arm, though he was able to reduce the reaction to a slight flinch when he identified two hands and what he thought to be a face—Noct, curling into his arm as he hadn't done since they were children.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Specs," Noct mumbled so quietly that even Ignis's currently oversensitive hearing could barely pick it up. "Dunno what I'd do without you."

Ignis couldn't find the words in his head to identify what he was feeling, let alone the proper words to express those feelings, so he simply suffused the emotion into his voice as he placed a hand over one of Noct's and answered, "Thank you, Noct."

Those tutors of his should have realized—the training was unnecessary. Despite not being ready to die, Ignis would have done it anyway, for several reasons, but most of all because he loved his brother fiercely. He just wasn't certain as to why he was still surprised to find the feeling was mutual when Noct had been trying to tell him since he'd returned from the past.

Between all the recent, life-shattering events, he was beginning to wonder whether his tutors had been wrong about everything.

"Night, Specs."

"Sleep well, Noct."

Ignis may have dozed for some time, because he opened his eyes to find Noct on the other side of the bed, one hand on his chest and the other flung out over the side. His pillow was misshapen and somehow missing its case. Ignis frowned and reached for his mobile to check the time—two o'clock in the morning. It was too early for the Prince's nightmares to have plagued him already. With any luck, he would sleep soundly for the rest of the evening. He was certain the same couldn't be said for himself.

Ignis closed his eyes, attempting to stem the tide of fire that seemed to roll from his toes all the way to the top of his head. Though the sensation wasn't as unsettling as it had been when he'd lain down, he was still wrestling down the desire to move, to fight, to bite, to . . . _something_. Swinging his feet over the side of the bed and grabbing his glasses from the bedside table, he decided if he wasn't able to sleep, scrubbing the kitchen to within an inch of its life might be suitable for working the energy off, perhaps looking over his lists to see if any of their errands could be accomplished in the city in the middle of the night. He stood and carefully made his way in the dark to the door that led to the kitchen.

But he stopped in the doorway when he saw Laura already there, dragging a mass of dough roughly in circles and dumping it into the last empty banneton of several on the counter. He quietly shut the door behind him and approached her.

"Are you all right?" she asked in a trembling voice, not looking up at him as she transferred the bannetons to the refrigerator.

"Yes," he replied, somewhat puzzled by her cool greeting. He himself wanted to gather her in his arms and kiss her breathless in celebration of finding them both alive and well. But he rallied his composure and asked instead, "Are _you_ all right?"

She slammed the refrigerator door. He startled somewhat at the sound reverberating in his ears and took a step back. "No," she said sharply. "I'm _not_ all right. I keep forgetting this is a new world for me. I can almost convince myself I'm on Earth, until suddenly we're whistling for giant chickens to appear from nowhere and riding off into the sunrise."

As much as he wanted to ask what her point was, he remained silent, waiting patiently for an explanation. When she finally turned to face him, he frowned at her expression—her eyes overly large and bright with unshed tears. Was he responsible for this? Had _he_ been the one to upset her?

"I think I know all the rules until you're dead on the ground. Where I'm from, there's no coming back from that."

She stepped toward him and curled her hands against his chest, resting her forehead against his neck, and he drew his arms around her, weaving his fingers in her hair and holding her close to his thudding heart.

"I thought I'd lost you," she said in a hopeless voice.

This, right here, was the test—whether the two of them would make it or not. If they were going to move forward in any capacity as . . . whatever they were, he needed to make one thing very clear—that his professional life and his private life must remain compartmentalized at all times, and the former would _always_ take precedence over the latter. He hated to say these words, hated the thought of hurting her further after what they'd both been through today, hated the possibility that these words and her reaction to them could end everything they'd built over the last few days. But they were the truth, and they needed to be said.

"I won't apologize for what I did."

She jerked her head back and stared up at him, her eyes wide. Words to explain, to soften his somewhat terse delivery were on the tip of his tongue, but he needn't have bothered because her response was precisely what he needed to hear.

"I would never ask you to. I can only hope that you extend me the same courtesy when I must do the same. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't be upset if something were to happen to you."

And he could tell by the look in her eyes that she meant it. Ignis had died doing his duty and would gladly and unwaveringly do so again, and she wouldn't try to stop him no matter how much they loved one another. He nodded, grateful that they were both on the same page.

They loved one another.

He drew her to him again, resting his chin on top of her head and stroking her back beneath the curtain of her hair. The warmth of her body sent quiet tremors of longing through his as he rocked her soothingly, closing his eyes and letting his affection wash over them both. She sighed and pressed her lips to his heart.

"All better now," he said in a low voice. "I . . . I felt you, you know—when I died. Inside my mind."

She went stiff in his arms. "No. I would never enter your mind without permission, especially after—"

"After what?"

He felt her shake her head beneath his hand. "I've never been inside your head. This afternoon, you were the one in mine."

He pulled back to look down at her in shock. "How is that possible? I'm no telepath."

She sighed and stepped back to sit in the dining chair behind her, hugging her arms. "There are only two circumstances when an apath can reach out beyond its own mind: when they share a permanent bond with a telepath and when they're near death. You're one of the few to actually make contact with anything because you happened to be near me when you died. I let you in." She shuddered, closing her eyes.

Ignis recalled how very close, how very intimate it had felt being with her in that moment—two souls brushing against one another in one's last moments—and though she'd made the experience as pleasant as any mortal could hope for it to be, she still must have felt his every thought, his every fear, his visceral terror as death clutched at his identity.

"But—to be connected so thoroughly to something as it's dying, would that not feel like dying yourself?"

He believed he already knew the answer, having witnessed her awakening the morning His Majesty had died. The look on her face was confirmation enough, and the thought of her suffering on his behalf devastated him.

"Yes," she murmured to the floor. "It was the same with you as it was with Regis, as it is with every non-daemonized creature we kill, including the animals you hunt—mad or not. The feeling is less intense if I back away from the battle, but I'm never fully spared its wrath. I can choose to disconnect with humans if I wish, but then I lose the ability to do what I did with you. Such was the way with my people."

Having spent some time trying to imagine what it must be like to experience the world as a telepath, he had begun to suspect as much. But he hadn't wanted to acknowledge to the others—especially to Noct, who already felt guilty and burdened enough—that holding him he'd passed was why she'd gone unconscious, not the venom. Combined with the death of the midgardsormr at her own hand, it must have overwhelmed her. And how many animals had they killed in her presence? Even after her somewhat vague explanation at Wiz's, the four of them had still thought it was somewhat ridiculous that she wouldn't join them in hunting. No longer.

"All this time, I thought you were just being," he shook his head, "I don't know, stubborn. Forgive me."

"It's not as though my logic is sound on the matter—avoidance of pain with a dash of principle. It's just the best I can live with."

Kneeling down in front of her, he stared up into her eyes, allowing everything he'd been sensing since he'd discovered her in here to wash over him—her scent on the warm night air, the play of the overhead light on the curves of her face, the whisper of her hair brushing against her arms and back. Dare he ask her what he'd been thinking? Feeling her warmth and light in his mind had been intoxicating, healing, life-changing, and he wanted nothing more than to experience it again. He'd been working up the courage to ask her for days now to connect with him as she'd once implied she could, but he hadn't yet managed to force the words to leave his throat.

"What is that potion doing to you?" she asked suddenly, placing a hand on his cheek and searching his fire-filled eyes in concern, no doubt taking in his flushed skin, breathlessness, and whatever oddity that was now the color of his mind.

"It's just the after-effects; they should wear off soon," he said dismissively. When her expression hardened in a wordless demand, he admitted, "All my senses are on such high alert that it's nearly overwhelming. I'll be all right. Already the effects have begun to wane."

Sitting in that library in Insomnia, Ignis had decided that he only had one life to live, and he was going to live it to the fullest within the boundaries of his obligations—a decision that had brought him to this point in the first place and was merely reinforced by his experience this afternoon. Though that decision hardly erased all the fears and doubts that plagued him even in this very moment, it was a philosophy to which he would hold true. He wanted her in his life, he decided, to the fullest extent she was willing. He didn't wish to die again regretting that he'd never gotten the chance to worship her—not as an acolyte to a goddess, but as a man to a woman.

And as he had already learned was the case with her, he would never get what he wanted if he didn't ask for it.

"Rose?"

She had moved the hand that was on his cheek around to the back of his neck and was idly toying at the tips of his hair, sending warm bolts of lightning down his spine. But she was still searching his face with that troubled look in her eyes.

"Hmm?"

"I should—" He swallowed, inwardly chiding himself for how uncertain he sounded. "If you are amenable, of course, I should very much like you to . . . engage with me telepathically."

The hand on the back of his neck stilled, and he wondered if he'd inadvertently crossed some cultural line he didn't understand. But her eyes seemed to soften, her mouth fell open a little, and he noted that her respiration had picked up at his words.

"What did you just say?"

"Please—but only if you desire to do so as well, of course."

"Ignis, please understand—I want to. I really, really, _really_ do. But I need to know—how much of this is you asking, and how much is the potion?"

Somewhat bolstered by her enthusiasm for his proposal, he hastened to dismiss her fears. "I'll admit to being more on-edge tonight, but let me reassure you that my judgment remains unaffected. The idea has intrigued me since I learned it was possible, even if I wasn't in a position that night to ask for it."

"And you're aware of what will likely happen if I establish a connection with the both of us . . . feeling like this?"

His only surprise was the implication that she was feeling similarly, so he leaned up, parting her lips with his tongue and pressing her head between his mouth and his hand, which he'd twisted gently in the hair at the nape of her neck. When she moaned into his mouth and trailed her fingernails over his shoulders and up the sides of his neck to settle her hands over his jaw, he pulled back a little to gaze into her dilated eyes.

"Yes."

When still she hesitated, he thought at first that it was because she was working on some polite way to turn him down—to say that kissing him was enough for her, thank you. If that were the case, he would bow out as gracefully as he could manage with his dignity and their friendship still intact. But he shoved his fears aside and considered the situation from another point of view—a new lover, possibly compromised by an unfamiliar potion, uncharacteristically asking to be taken to bed in a most intimate and alien fashion. He had to admit it didn't look good, but he knew his own mind.

"Rose, trust me."

"I do. It's just that . . . oh god, what if you regret it in the morning? I'd never—"

"If you trust me, then know that I want this—have wanted this."

She searched his face for a long moment. "All right, I believe you. But at the very least, we should talk about this first. Is there anything specific you wanted to know beforehand?"

Honestly, he had a thousand questions that would find them still sitting here long after the sun rose and the others had risen for the day, so he distilled all his fears and curiosity into three simple lines of inquiry.

"Are we truly compatible? Am I . . . enough?"

Her brow furrowed. "Ignis, of _course_ you're—"

"I mean telepathically speaking. Surely your mating practices are tied to such an intimate ability, and I am but an apath."

She looked down at her lap and blew out a breath through her nose. "You needn't worry about that. Most of that process is human in this body, and even with my other . . . I'll spare you the history lesson for now and simply tell you our telepathy isn't as a result of natural evolution and is thus more of a . . . bonus."

As much as he wished to hear her history lesson, he agreed expediency was the best practice in this particular case. "And what level of access will we have to each other? I assume the connection is deeper than that which you made with Noct earlier."

"You're right. This is far more intimate. I would have access to your surface thoughts and physical sensations. You would have access to mine, but to a lesser extent."

When he frowned in thought, she seemed to grow distressed, leaning forward to cup his cheek in her hand again. "Please understand, it's not because I'm holding back or hiding anything from you. It's just that you have less experience with the process. No sentient being thinks in a string of words like speech unless it's purposeful; thoughts are a combination of words, feelings, images—even sounds and smells—passing over the mind like lightning. Your mind will have trouble translating the onslaught of information just as you do in our sparring sessions, so it'll filter out what it doesn't understand. I'll try my best tonight to slow down and send you what I can, and if you decide you want to . . . do this again, you would improve just as you are in combat."

Astrals, he certainly hoped this process wouldn't be as frustrating as their sparring sessions had been these past several days. It had turned out that the concept of all-awareness she'd first proposed back in that alleyway was far more complex than he'd first believed; she expected him to be aware of literally _everything_ happening in the vicinity of their battles and yet put forth no effort to analyze a single piece of information, including the movements of his opponent, which was absurd in his mind. And that was to say nothing of his first Intuition lesson in the Greyshire Glacial Grotto earlier that afternoon. Reaching out with his "heart" to "taste the magic on the air" in order to detect daemons and allies alike seemed like an exercise in futility, even if it did distract him from the hours spent wandering behind Noct in the dark. He was beginning to wonder if the woman had a severe case of synesthesia and was simply unaware.

Still, he'd taken to meditating when he found a free moment or two these past few days to practice his awareness and sensitivity, and though he himself saw no improvements in the number of times he'd been knocked to the dirt, she claimed that he was, in fact, getting better. Perhaps his practice would improve his performance tonight.

"A final question—will the connection be permanent?"

He'd been dreading her answer to this most of all. Would he be willing, without ever having experienced it, to permanently fuse his mind with hers? She who laughed at stars and breathed in cosmic dust was entertaining the notion of allowing him inside her body—a once in a lifetime opportunity for a mortal like himself—but he didn't believe he was capable of making such a commitment blindly.

"Not tonight, it wouldn't. That's a deeper connection called bonding—a more equal partnership that can span distances. We would have far more depth in what we could send one another—images of memories, for example."

"Then, yes. You have my permission to enter my mind, Rose. I say this freely and unreservedly," he said, hoping the reference would be enough to reassure her of his sincerity. He closed his eyes, his heart palpitating with anticipation and arousal and hope. He drew in a quick breath when ever so slowly, he felt her thumbs brush against his cheekbones. Her fingers slid against his scalp under his hair—two at his temples and two behind his ears.

"You held your hands the same way for Noct. Is there something significant about those points of the skull?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"Stars, that mind, asking questions at a time like this," she chuckled. "The Doctor was the one to teach me telepathy. He was half Time Lord, a race of touch telepaths that needed this close contact with the brain in order to make the connection. I don't, but I find it makes for a good physical cue when connecting with apaths."

"I see," he said diplomatically, suppressing his opinion of what sort of species would have the pomposity to call themselves Time Lords. "Apologies, please continue."

There was a rustle of sound and the sensation of soft lips on his forehead. "Don't ever apologize for asking questions. I do so love that inquisitive mind of yours. All right. Here I go."

It began as a slight prickling, a gentle flutter against his brain as a warm breeze through his hair. Unsure of how to respond, he embraced the feeling, hoping it was the equivalent of welcoming her in. The sensation increased until he felt his head grow heavy with another presence in his mind. Having been alone inside his head his entire existence, it was strangely thrilling to feel someone else in there with him—someone kind, someone that loved him. It was as though a sense he hadn't known he possessed was suddenly open to him, as though he had lived his entire life only perceiving the very top of a plant growing above the soil and had been ignorant to the wondrous complexity beneath the surface—thoughts had greater depth, _she_ had greater depth. He'd been seeing only an image of her all this time, but now he was truly being introduced to the soul of the woman he had fallen in love with. That golden light and love of hers shined through every corner, and he couldn't help but groan a little at the infusion of warmth that spread through his entire body like a comforting bath, soothing the tension caused by the potion and relaxing his muscles.

"Ohhh, I can f-feel you," he breathed.

That warmth settled deep in his belly, and _Astrals_ , how he wanted her. If he waded deep below the nonsensical buzzing of her thoughts, he could feel her arousal in his mind as well—a column of heat at her core that increased his own ardor, resulting in a feedback loop of aching want.

"Ohhhh, Ignis," she answered, and he opened his eyes to see her pupils expand so that the lapis was nearly obscured. "Your mind is so beautiful."

He didn't know how to respond to such a compliment, so he merely stared up at her as they breathed open-mouthed together, reveling in that deep, delicious ache and sending it back to each other—watching it grow, wondering who would be the first to break. She began stroking from his temples down his cheeks, tracing the curve of his jaw and back up again, and he gasped at tingling trails of electricity her touch left in its wake.

They both broke at the sound of his inhalation.

In a single movement, he stood and swooped her off the chair while she wrapped her legs around his waist. Hooking his foot around the chair leg, he slid it out of the way so he could push her up against the kitchen wall.

Their mouths met savagely. She continued producing those decadent trails of sensation down his face as he nipped at her lips, twisted his tongue with hers, and melded their mouths together until they'd truly become one. The weight of her mind in his wasn't as foreign as he thought it would be, as she was just as desperate to consume him as he was her. But that depth—he could drown himself in that depth she'd bestowed upon him.

He leaned her against the wall and indicated wordlessly that she should tighten her hold around his waist so he could free his hands to touch her—first gripping her wrists on either side of his head and running his palms down her arms, then moving to her neck, across her shoulders, and down to her waist. Not having been given explicit permission for free access to her body, he kept his hands on the less provocative regions, but the spear of arousal that shot first through her and then through him told him that his objective had been achieved nevertheless.

With a gasp, she ripped her mouth from his and threw her head back against the wall. "Oh god, Ignis, anywhere. You can touch me anywhere you like."

While her vehement declaration was certainly excellent news, he found he couldn't act on it, for she had immediately swooped down to latch her hot, wet mouth on the pulse point of his neck, making him shudder in want.

Oh gods, how on Eos could he be so fortunate?

When she used the wall as leverage to wriggle against his already throbbing length, his eyes shot open wide, and a moan escaped unbidden from the depths of his lungs and up through his throat.

"Rose."

On instinct, he thrust against her, relishing her warmth against where he was craving it most. He'd never allowed himself to become this swept away before, had never completely let go of his calculating, logical mind and let his heart rule his body like this.

If this were his reward for doing so, he'd do it every day. This was far more thrilling than any hunt, far more stimulating than any amount of coffee, far more pleasurable than . . . anything.

A sudden hammering coming from the door behind him made him step back and drop her. His instincts still on high alert from the phoenix down, he summoned his daggers to his hands, prepared to defend her by any means necessary.

 _Easy,_ Laura said, placing a hand on his arm and stilling him.

"Hey!" Gladio yelled from behind the door. "Hot as this sounds, you mind fucking in the other room? You're scaring the kids!"

There were no words to describe the completeness of his mortification. Dismissing his daggers, he stood there, staring at the door with his mouth open, wondering how he could possibly even begin to form a response. Fortunately, Laura stepped forward and saved him—in a manner of speaking.

"Glad you enjoyed the show, babe. Sorry guys!"

It was only her hand tugging his in the opposite direction that allowed him to unstick his feet from the floor and move.

"Come with me," she said, leading him through the other door to the moonlit living room.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note:**

Warning: NSFW

* * *

Laura placed a hand on the door as she allowed it to swing shut behind her.

"Cánarath," she whispered, and it flashed silver before returning to its original flat brown.

"Was that necessary?" Ignis asked, lacing his tone with disapproval. Her coloring may have improved drastically since earlier this evening, but frivolous use of magic after such a strenuous experience would do her no favors.

"It's a small price to pay for privacy. They can leave out the door in their room if they need to." She turned to him, pressing her palms to his chest and searching his face.

Even with the potion still singing through his nerves and her warm presence buzzing under the surface of his thoughts, his ardor had cooled somewhat with the spontaneity of the moment lost. The other three knew now—there was no hiding it, and there would likely be hell to pay in the morning in some form or another. Those were the consequences of allowing himself to get carried away. He should have known better.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly. "We don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to. It's not too late to find that man named Moose to help you with that potion, you know."

He chuckled humorlessly and shook his head. One of these days, they wouldn't be balancing on the cusp of a momentous milestone in their relationship, and he could ask her what her obsession was with this pugilistic man named Moose.

Yet no matter what may or may not have changed in the last several weeks, he was still a practical man. There would be hell to pay in the morning no matter what—they'd already been caught. They both may as well benefit from the unfortunate situation.

 _How very pragmatic of you,_ she sent him with a warm smile.

"I didn't mean . . ."

Astrals, this was why he maintained such an unyielding filter between his thoughts and his words. Despite his somewhat cold, ruthless thought process, surely she must know this meant more to him than convenient enjoyment—far more.

"I do. I'll take care of the boys tomorrow if you like, but I just want to make it clear there's no pressure—from anyone."

"No. They're my responsibility," he corrected, pulling her closer to murmur the words to her temple. "My only regret is for my own clumsiness in maintaining discretion. As to your second point . . ."

The briefest stirring of self-doubt flashed across his consciousness when he considered how many times she'd offered him a way out, but he could still _feel_ her in his head—warm with arousal, waiting patiently for his permission, and something else, something wordless he wasn't certain he was interpreting correctly—a whisper of fear that he was only able to recognize because he too was experiencing it. Neither of them wanted this to go wrong.

He swept her hair aside to lay behind her back, exposing her ear so he could lean in closer. "Yes, I still want this, Rose. Can you feel it?"

"Yes. Oh god, _yes_ ," she breathed, turning her head to plant a row of breathy caresses along his jaw. But he paused in running his hands up her spine when he felt hesitant, questing fingers at the hem of his t-shirt. "May I?"

He closed his eyes. Baring himself was always going to be a part of this process, and though he couldn't recall her once ever being less than complimentary regarding his physique, they were now intimately connected enough that he would likely feel every nuance of her ambivalence as he revealed himself. He clenched his teeth and nodded against her hair, not wishing to pull away to see her expression.

 _I'd like the chance to prove you wrong_ , _if you'll let me,_ she said affectionately, lifting his shirt just enough to expose his abdominals. He shuddered when fingertips met his heated skin, stroking soothingly, edging along the contours of his muscles, and he nodded again, this time more vehemently.

But he kept his eyes closed as she gently pulled his shirt up and over his head, her fingers brushing against his face a little as she stretched the collar over his glasses. The warm Lestallum air tickled at his chest hair, making him tremble a little, but he stood tall, clenching his fists at his sides and waiting for her impressions.

There were no words like "awkward," "scrawny," or "spotted" as he'd expected; they'd been replaced with "lithe" and "exquisite"—the perfect balance of agile leanness and muscle. Even standing still, she considered him the flawless image of elegance and grace. How odd, those were descriptions he had always assigned to her. She showed him how his glasses accentuated the shape and intensity of his intelligent viridian eyes; how she couldn't stop thinking about kissing his perfect lips, his elegant neck and sharp jaw; how much she wanted to run her fingertips down his strong arms to his beautiful hands with their long, graceful fingers, to graze her lips over his well-defined chest and the subtle contours of his abdominals. He heard the shift of her clothing against her skin as she took a step toward him and just barely grazed her palms from his ribs to the taper of his hips.

 _You're seraphic._

He couldn't help but break the moment and snort indelicately, opening his eyes to give her a disbelieving look. "Keep talking like that, and you'll have me strutting about the place like an overpuffed Tenebraean peacock."

"I might like to see that," she said with a mischievous smile, tugging on his hand to lead him to the couch, "but somehow I don't think anything I say would cause that. Sit."

He did as she asked, sitting on the middle cushion so she could straddle his lap. His hands found that perfect curve of her waist as she wrapped her mouth around his collarbone. Pleasure rolled over him in waves like the electric thrumming like a well-oiled machine as he panted helplessly up at the water-stained ceiling in a daze.

"And your skin is a map of the stars," she purred to his flesh, making his skin pebble. Her hot tongue drifted to the hollow of his throat, somehow making his hands clench around her. "I always did enjoy exploring the stars."

Rising from beneath the vibrating current of her mind, he thought he might hear background thoughts surfacing, paradoxically growing easier to read the less he tried to focus on them. What moron would dare even bring his complexion to his attention? His skin was a lovely peaches and cream—so soft, with a lingering scent of spicy sweetness. He didn't even have _that_ many freckles—no more than a handful or two. Did Prompto get teased for his vastly more freckled appearance?

"Likely not," he gasped as her lips found a particularly chilling spot in the crook of his neck. "Lucian nobility is held to a different standard."

She pulled away to glare down at him. "Well any standard that makes you feel this way about yourself is stupid."

"I daresay it's somewhat easier for you, with your royal appearance yet not being of this world. Astrals' sakes, you have the skin of Terraverden royalty and the coloring of Lucian royal blood."

"Well, I wasn't raised with such ridiculous notions, so you shouldn't take them into consideration when guessing what I will and won't find attractive."

"Would you care to explain to me how we've managed to begin a discussion on Lucian beauty standards when—"

When she was sitting astride his arousal at that very moment.

"That mind of yours," she chuckled, rocking subtly against him, "added to mine makes a dangerous combination for getting distracted."

He groaned a little at feeling her heat moving against him in a rehearsal of the performance to come this evening, and he was suddenly distracted no longer. He moved his hands to cover her hips, gripping tightly and grinding up into her.

"Yes," she moaned, the depth and guttural nature of her voice surprising him. Her eyes rolled up in her head as her head tipped back. "Ignis."

Delicious heat blossomed beneath his skin at the wanton sound, pooling in his face and his groin. He stretched up to capture her mouth and release his answering moan where it couldn't be as easily heard, cradling the back of her neck and edging his thumb around her jaw. He wanted nothing more than to watch her face as she came undone underneath him, but a spark of trepidation ignited in his heart at the possibility that she hadn't understood his innuendo the other night and was expecting a lover with the skill to please her. Would he possess the stamina necessary? The knowledge?

He would do his very best, of course; he only hoped it would be enough.

Ignis would occasionally pick up the magazines that Gladio left lying around Noct's apartment from time to time when he visited—the ones with pictures of half-naked women on the cover and titles that claimed, "We Know 69 Ways to Drive Girls Wild in Bed." He would furtively flip through them as he cleaned, convincing himself that the information may indeed be useful if he ever found the time to meet someone willing to put up with him. Yet what he'd learned in theory he'd never had the chance to use in practice. His only other source of information was biology texts, and that was hardly encouraging.

Any moment now, she was going to see him for the fumbling, awkward youth he really was and pull away from him. She may have tried to convince him that she was only a woman, but she was still quite literally a goddess—imbued with just as much power as the Six and condensed into this immortal-yet-mortal body resting between his palms and beneath his lips. The knowledge she had of carnal pleasures alone must have rivaled all that he knew about anything, everything. She could have had her choice of any lover in all of existence and had probably taken more than he could count, all certainly far more capable of pleasuring her than he could with his lack of experience.

"Ignis Scientia!" Laura admonished suddenly, interrupting his thoughts and jerking back to glare at him. "Does that constant stream of self-judgmental nonsense in your head never cease?"

Astrals, he'd forgotten she could sense him far more efficiently than he could her. It was only as he attempted to expand his awareness to encompass all that her thoughts and emotions would begin to emerge from the stream, but as soon as he focused inward, he lost the ability to glean anything specific from all that passed him by in a rush—except for that warmth and light. By the grace of the ice goddess, he couldn't draw himself close enough to it. He let his head fall back against the couch. There were flaws in every system, it would seem. For all that he appreciated the new depth he'd discovered with telepathy, he wasn't altogether pleased that his every fleeting insecurity was open to her perusal.

"Apologies."

Her expression softened. "Unfortunately, now that I'm past your natural defenses, I can't really back away. You need a bond for that sort of control. I can disconnect if you prefer."

"No . . . I'm simply unaccustomed to my every thought being communicated without censorship."

"I understand that, but in this particular case, it happens to be a good thing. Had you not shared, I might not have known you felt this way. And I wouldn't have the opportunity to set the record straight."

"Oh?"

"Yes. First of all, I am _not_ a goddess, as I keep trying to tell you. Secondly, I have _not_ had more lovers than you can count. If you really must know, you're the sixth. The _sixth_ , Ignis. I hardly sleep my way around the universes."

"I didn't mean to imply—"

"Finding someone is more difficult for someone like me than most people think," she interrupted him. "But if you're willing, I'm choosing you. I choose you for your mind . . ." She caressed his temple, and he felt the warmth of their connection swell in response. Her fingertips drifted down his neck to rest on his chest, where some part of him was aware there should have been a scar. The skin sang oddly beneath her touch—oversensitive. ". . . and your heart. These things are rarer than the most precious gems and cannot be taught. But I think you're going to learn that . . . what did you call them? 'Carnal pleasures'? Those _can_ be taught. And _oh_ , my dearest, how much pleasure we're both going get from teaching you."

"Mmm, and yet I don't—"

How could he explain that he considered this more than a teenaged fumble? That he wanted to live up to her every expectation? That he wished for this to be more than a once in a lifetime opportunity? He had always eventually excelled at every task put before him, but not necessarily the first time. And how could he have hoped for this chance, let alone . . .?

"Hey, look at me."

He frowned, flicking his eyes up to meet hers.

"I promise—tonight isn't your only opportunity, that is . . . if you want. But . . . tonight also isn't a performance subject to review. You aren't being weighed and measured, love." She leaned in to kiss him languidly, as though savoring the taste of him, as though they had nothing more important to do this evening than this. He melted beneath her mouth, sinking into the couch cushions. But when his fingertips found the hem of her t-shirt and dove underneath so that he could stroke her soft skin, she ripped her mouth away, releasing a shuddering breath in his ear that dug his fingertips into her waist in want.

"It's been . . . god, so long. Just touch me. Just let me touch you."

He might not have been experienced in the ways of pleasure, but he could manage that happily. Foreplay, at least, was a simple matter, almost scientific, in a way—the systematic observation and cataloging of stimulus and response in order to memorize the complexities of her body. He wanted to know the joy, to feel that masculine pride of watching her come undone under his hands, and to accomplish this, he would catalog every inch of her skin until he knew how to play her every note.

"Yes," he exhaled, slowly lifting her shirt until she sat back and raised her arms. He gently pulled the hem up and over her head to reveal her body.

They both went still as he stared openly at her.

She was the very picture of _The Gentle Frostbearer_ in the center of Optimus Park two blocks from Shiva's temple—with the lustrous ivory of her skin catching the dim light from the windows and her dark sheet of hair hanging over her breasts. Letting his eyes roam from her hips to her shoulders, he found her to be the perfect balance of femininity and athleticism—soft, hard, and beautifully curved in all the right places. Careful to keep in mind that he would appear less rude to touch her for her pleasure rather than his curiosity, he slowly reached up to push the curtain of soft strands aside and reveal a dusky pink areola peaked with a pert nipple.

"You are . . . beautiful," he whispered, unable to think of anything more eloquent to say. His hand beginning to tremble ever so slightly, he carefully brought his palm to her breast and cupped it experimentally, noting that it was perfectly proportioned to her frame—heavy enough to be divinely feminine but not so large as to impede agility. He brushed a thumb over her stiffening bud, watching her face carefully and growing pleased when he felt a ravenous impatience that was not his own begin to build in the back of his mind.

"Ignis," she panted. And there it was again—that flash of some indefinable emotion at the sound of his name on her lips. He wanted to hear it again.

He didn't allow his attention to waver as another delicious swell of heat flowed between them. Without hesitating, he swept aside her other lock of hair and bent forward to take the tip of her other breast between his lips, drawing the warm, rosy tip into his mouth to suckle gently.

 _Oh._

He was drowning in sensation—soft velvety skin beneath his lips and fingers, her heavy breaths in his ear deafening him to even the music still playing in the courtyard below, and the gentle scraping of her fingernails across his shoulders to send chills down his arms. Even her scent was stronger here—muskier, making him dizzy. Wave after wave of arousal crashed over him, though whether from himself or from her, he couldn't be certain. It was as though their identities were beginning to merge—their shared desire combining with one of their impatience, but someone's apprehension held them in check as they both sought the friction that was suddenly imperative their satisfaction.

"Ignis," Laura gasped, gently grabbing two handfuls of his hair and pulling him from her breast. "Let me— _oh_." She shivered as he reverently skimmed his hands down the dip in her waist to the flare of her hips and back. "Tonight's about you. Can I?"

"Hmm?"

Without warning, she slid off his lap to the floor and kneeled between his knees.

"You'll be less sensitive if I take care of you first," she suggested, her fingers tightening around his thighs.

He let out a sharp breath through his nose. Surely, she couldn't be suggesting . . .? But a dark thrill shot through his bones at the idea of her kneeling before him in a perverse reversal of their roles to service him, even if it simultaneously horrified him.

Would he ever have a single, simple feeling about her?

But gods damn it, he'd strayed this far along the path; he might as well see it to its end. And she had a point—on those rare nights when he eschewed a quick convenience for truly indulging in a lengthy session of handling his hormones, he'd found his refractory period to be acceptable when applied to this situation, and his stamina had vastly improved his second time.

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, Rose," he let out on a breath. " _Please_. I would be most grateful."

"Course you would. Typical bloke," she teased, smirking. But she grew serious as her eyes dropped to the bulge in his pajama trousers, and she reached out to lovingly stroke it through the cloth, shooting tight, tingling bolts to his feet. "I want to do this for you." _I want you to feel you come down my throat. I want to hear you moan my name._ "Just lie back and enjoy it, yeah?"

" _Rose_ ," he huffed, letting his head fall back against the couch and closing his eyes in a vain attempt to regain some measure of composure. Even if she were understanding, he didn't believe he could ever look her in the eye if things ended here and now.

But she managed to unbutton his pajamas and maneuver his aching erection from his underclothes alarmingly quickly, and he had to open his eyes again just so he wouldn't miss the sight of her heavy-lidded expression as she held him intimately.

"Do you—" He swallowed. "Do you find me . . . adequate?"

Keeping her fiery, mischievous eyes locked on his, she leaned in and gently licked the bead of moisture that had seeped and gathered at his tip, and for a moment, he thought he was going to lose consciousness from pleasure of it all—that wet warmth making him want to thrust up into her mouth in addition to the very clear sense in his mind that she enjoyed the flavor of him, that she _wanted_ him pushed to the hilt in her.

" _Oh_ , my—" he breathed.

"More than adequate," she answered, breathing against his balls before skimming the tip of her nose up his length. "You like this—the wait. The anticipation."

He could feel every breath of her words against his feverish skin, every vibration, every brush of her lips. He shuddered and nodded.

"Mmm, that might be an issue," she murmured, low and throaty. With another hum that vibrated down to his balls, she almost lovingly pulled back his foreskin and traced her lips around the edge of his rim. "Because _stars_ , I want you."

With that, she closed her lips around him and descended—slowly, wetly, oh gods, so hot and so much pressure. Every instinct in his head was near screaming at him to push up and envelop himself into that exquisite heat, but he forced his hips still and redirected the desire to his fingers, where he could more politely ball his fists in her bedsheets. Would this glorious heaven be what it felt like to enter her the first time? This felt surreal—almost like an out-of-body experience, and he wildly wondered whether he had died after all.

Seconds passed as she moved agonizingly slowly down the length of him, the time measured out in his short, wet panting and the occasional whine he couldn't seem to help releasing in the back of his throat. But far from finding his weakness amusing, Laura seemed to find exquisite beauty and deep satisfaction in every sound she managed to coax from between his reluctant lips, and as his baffled sensibilities grew more accustomed to the idea that she wouldn't suddenly find him ridiculous, he began to feed her arousal by allowing a few more quiet whimpers of encouragement to fall between them.

It wasn't until she curled her tongue up to caress the underside of his head, sending fire racing through his veins that he found he couldn't contain his quiet groans behind his closed lips and teeth clenched tight.

"Bloody hell," he spat before sucking in another deep, whistling breath, and she moaned around him in response.

Had he felt only the sensation of her mouth on him, he might have lasted longer, but with her presence buzzing in his head, he experienced the act in stereo. He could feel himself inside her mouth—the contour, the taste, the scent, the warmth of his velvet length. He could feel her sex swelling and growing slick with each pass of her tongue, almost aching in anticipation of him stretching her. She wanted to fuck him, desperately, and there was no place that pretense, posturing, or ulterior motives could hide in the thoughts she was purposefully laying bare to him.

She was enjoying this.

Fearing that his swiftly devolving thoughts would spiral into incoherency before he could adequately convey his appreciation, he rested his hands on her head, running her long blue-black hair through his fingers from root to tip, spreading it so it hung in a dark pool over his lap as she moved on him.

"R-Rose, I'm—"

Astrals, he couldn't breathe. Disarmed by the decadent tingling heat slowly drawing his every muscle tighter and tighter, he found his typical methods for blocking pain ineffective. He wouldn't have much more time to prove himself a gentleman and a capable lover if he couldn't hold on any longer than a minute or two.

 _You are so very sweet. No one's asking anything of you but to enjoy it. Let go if you want, love._

Thank the gods she'd given him permission to ejaculate into her mouth because he had no idea what he would've done without it at this point. Even with her explicit endorsement of the idea, it still felt obscene. He brought his hands from the tips of her hair to the sides of her head and threaded his fingers through her roots in a caress, desperate to say something, anything, to soothe his own sensibilities, if not hers.

"Forgive me," he pleaded.

That hot, buzzing pleasure built at the base of his testicles until it burst, drawing him tight enough to cry out and bite the back of a hand as he crested a wave of bliss so intense that he felt as though it would break him. Each subsequent wave pulled a twitch from his dancing nerves as Laura swallowed around every pulse. He finished on a shiver that left him feeling boneless.

Laura gave him one final lick before tucking him into his pajamas and looking up at him questioningly. He gazed down at her with heavy-lidded eyes, wishing she were close enough to touch. As though he'd spoken the thought aloud, she got up and settled in his lap once more, resting her soft, heavy breasts against his still heaving chest. Her hair fell over his shoulders and tickled at his chest as she leaned over him and nuzzled his cheek tenderly. He could smell himself on her breath, and though part of him felt that he should be disgusted, he could only find a swelling of pride that his rational mind still found ridiculous.

"Ignis, sweetheart," she breathed, grazing her lips against his ear. "I love you."

Words he'd never heard directed toward him in his entire life—spoken aloud freely, unrestrained, uninhibited—and yet the response was more difficult to summon to his lips than he expected despite being so full of it that he felt he would burst.

"Rose," he rasped, bewildered at how much it _hurt_ to admit it, "I love you so."

It felt as though the response had been torn from his flesh, but at least he had found his one simple feeling. He loved her. He was _loved._

For the briefest of moments, it was as though the clouds had parted in his mind and the very essence of her soul was laid bare to him, and he was surprised to realize that they were far more kindred spirits than he could have imagined. Like him, she was gentleness with teeth, passion tempered by logic, but there was also a streak of colorful, whimsical wonder that he lacked. There was an emptiness hidden deep beneath the surface of that color, buried so far down that she likely never acknowledged its existence. But reflected in its unfathomable dark depths, he saw himself—a lantern shining as a beacon amidst a sea of darkness. Astrals, she had marked him her equal in her mind—no, her _better_.

"I told you—that heart and mind of yours is the greatest treasure someone like me can be gifted with," she said in the wake of his awe. "That you're allowing me to connect with you like this—you don't know what that means to me."

He pulled his head back to look up at her, a sudden thought breaking the tenderness of the moment. "Why doesn't it hurt, as it does when the Archaean contacts Noct?"

"Because Titan's an ass. He's bursting through Noctis's natural barriers without permission and shouting with all his strength into his mind. Contact with humans requires subtlety." She leaned in to kiss him sweetly on the lips. "Gentleness." She scraped her teeth along his jaw. "Respect." She nipped carefully at his earlobe, and he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, his fingers stroking rhythmically over her ribs.

"Mmm. It's so good to see you enjoying yourself," she said, peppering kisses along the other side of his jaw. "You're just soaking it up—" She smiled into his neck and inhaled his scent. "—now that I've got you going."

Ignis could have lain on that plush couch stroking her soft skin and basking in her attention until the sun rose, but now that his anxieties had been somewhat quelled, he needed to prove to her that he would pull his weight as an attentive, skilled lover if she allowed this to continue. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and when she had pulled away, he tipped her carefully to the cushions before moving to hover over her.

"Allow me to—" He cut himself off and lowered his chest to brush over hers, shifting so that he could revel in the sensation of that velvety touch against his bare skin and the susurrus of the friction they created together. It was alarmingly addictive.

"Yes," she panted, her nails skimming up his neck and into his hair. "I'm yours to explore—whatever you want."

Ignis ran his nose along her throat, inhaling her sweet pine and kithairon essence before lowering his lips to plant sweet, gentle kisses. He could feel her hovering in his mind, ready to offer guidance if he wished, but he nudged the thought away.

"I wish to learn you myself," he murmured into the hollow of her collarbone. He dipped lower, laving his tongue over her soft breast, noting her shiver as he allowed his lower lip to drag behind it. "That I can be fully credited with each discovery."

" _Ignis_ ," she groaned when he took the tip gently between his teeth.

 _Yes, exactly like that_ , he said with a smirk as he glanced up to see her inebriated expression—half-lidded and lips slack. He was inordinately pleased with himself for having brought her to this state without touching her intimately, but he was far beyond ready to change that. Sitting back on his feet, he trailed his fingers down her stomach and over the elastic waistband of her shorts suggestively, waiting for her permission.

"Yes," she gasped. As she raised her hips, he dragged both her shorts and her underwear down her long legs, then folded them over once and placed them on the couch arm over her shirt. He looked back at her and went still, drinking in the sight he thought he would never live to see.

"Staggeringly beautiful," he whispered, reaching out to trace a tentative line from her hip to her sex.

With a quick inhalation from the both of them, he parted her lips to touch her. Astrals, her flesh was so hot here, so wet, that he could feel himself stirring already in anticipation of being inside her. With a second finger, he parted her more fully to familiarize himself with her terrain, stroking her from the outside in with small, exploratory circles, taking note of every movement or spot that made her gasp or tremble. Her scent grew heavier on the thick night air—wilder between her legs, sweet and musky in a way that plucked a chord in his more animalistic hind brain. He wanted to taste that scent.

The buzzing in his head grew frantic, and he looked up to see her pressing her lips together tightly, her expression tender.

"Please," he said gently, angling himself so he could lean down to press his lips briefly to her hip, "let me hear you."

"I . . ." But she paused when he slowly inserted a finger into her heat. She threw her head back, her eyes wide and sightless as she gasped for breath. " _Oh,_ " she whimpered between heavy breaths, a wave of naked, incoherent lust washing between them. With a forceful exhale, she groaned, "Fuck _me_ , Ignis."

"Yes, all in good time."

"You _are_ a cocky bastard, aren't you?"

He withdrew and pressed forward again, smiling to himself as her breath hitched. "I suppose it won't be long until we find out."

But first, a taste of her. As much as it chafed at his pride that he couldn't even the score between them tonight, it was imperative that he drive her as closely to the edge as possible without letting her tip over it, so that when they were joined, his inexperience wouldn't disappoint her. If he was careful and attentive to her body's responses, he believed he could chance putting his mouth to her and indulge them both for a short while.

Adding a second finger to his first to glide in her swollen warmth, he lowered his nose to her sex, nuzzling at the glistening folds. Her scent seemed to wrap around him and pull him closer, clouding his mind. _More, faster, make her cry out your name_ , his instinct seemed to whisper, but the plan held him in check. This was to be a sweet seduction, a careful move in a strategy that might lead to more opportunities in the future.

With a delicate flick of his tongue, he caught the edge of her folds before pressing himself inward. She began to writhe beneath him as he dove in, swirling his tongue to search out every crevice and protrusion, memorize every pattern of movement that caught her breath and made their feedback loop of shared arousal flare with desire. And by the goddess, the flavor of her—salty, sweet, musky—unique to anything he'd ever tasted.

But all while he pressed on with his diligent work, he noted with some gratitude that the nails on his scalp remained gentle, the thighs brushing his ears never tightened enough to suffocate or disturb his glasses.

 _That's it, Rose,_ he encouraged when she exhaled his name on a sigh.

"So help me," she moaned, her fingers tightening in his hair, "if you say that you've come up with a new recipe, I'm going to throttle you."

Her eyes were twinkling with amusement when he looked up at her. He hadn't expected casual humor to figure into a seduction scene, but he found that he liked it. It eased some of the pressure he was feeling to be suave in every moment. Chuckling, he kissed the seam of her thigh.

"Well, now that you mention it, the flavors would pair nicely with some . . . _cock_ atrice, perhaps?"

"Oh . . . my . . . god," she laughed, tugging him by the jaw until he crawled up to her so their faces were level, "I refuse to believe you just said that."

But her laughter grew still as she searched his face, her expression relaxing to sincerity. "I hope if I say it often enough, you'll begin to believe it," she said gently, feathering her nails up his sides and across his shoulder blades, "but you are so very lovely."

"Come now, I assure you," he scoffed, more so as to deflate her expectations of this evening's performance somewhat—just in case, "I'm nothing special."

"Ignis, you're one of the finest examples of humanity I've seen, and I think I have the authority to speak on this matter. But this . . ." She soothed her hands down the side of his face, and somehow he knew 'this' was referring to the imminent loss of his virginity. ". . . is this good? Is this everything you wanted?" she asked hesitantly. Reaching up to touch his cheek again, she added, "Not too late to find yourself a nice, normal girl to do this with, you know."

The tendrils of vulnerability coming off her to wrap around his mind were so apparent that they almost appeared teal behind his eyes. This was unexpected. Surely someone of her age would have learned this in her life's experience?

"'Normal' is simply a word ordinary people use to help them feel better about themselves." He leaned down to press his lips briefly to hers, savoring the sensation of full-body contact with her skin. "You, Rose, are extraordinary—a trait I must admit I was holding out for."

He was pleased to see the crease between her brow smooth over as her lips pulled up into a soft smile, but the intimacy of the moment was short-lived as a horrible thought occurred to him. Damn it all, even in melding spontaneity with careful planning, things could be cocked up beyond rescue. How would he solve this?

"Ignis? What's wrong?"

"I . . . I'm afraid I've just discovered an oversight."

He had endured the potential letdown of preparing for this night several days ago at the chemist's, when he'd purchased a box of condoms and raced back to the hotel to stash them with his few belongings that couldn't be stored in the armiger. Of course, he'd hardly been prepared for this sort of liaison when he'd wandered into the kitchen in his pajamas, and after having been very dramatically caught by Gladio, of all people, he thought he might rather die than return to that bedroom to fetch them.

"We don't need them unless you would insist on it," Laura answered. "Species barrier between us eliminates the requirement for things like that."

Had she been anyone else on the entire planet, he _would_ have insisted on it. The world was rife with men and women alike looking to use his connections for social or political gain, but he trusted her word with his life—this required no more faith than that which he'd given her every day. Still—he wished he'd known that sooner. He could have spared himself the experience at the chemist's.

"Keep them anyway," she said with a tongue-touched smile. "We can stick them in the Pocket. Might be good to use them when we don't want to make a mess, yeah?"

A spark of hope kindled at her casual reference to their future activities, but he wouldn't trust in certainty until he'd proven himself.

"Then . . . will you do the honor of holding me inside you, Rose?" he asked, weighting his tone to match the formality of the request and trying not to think of how utterly absurd he sounded. Yet he felt some sort of procedure was necessary when a mortal sought intercourse with a divine entity, no matter how many times she'd kept insisting that they were equals.

"Please," she breathed.

The gravity of the moment was somewhat lost when he had to pull away for a few seconds, standing just long enough to remove his pajamas and boxer-briefs unceremoniously before returning to kneel between her legs.

The little slice of time on either side of the loss of his virginity was a queer thing. As he braced himself, lined up, and finally eased inside her, he thought it odd that such a simple act had such profound social significance, permanently re-labeling him. Why was this such a monumental step in a person's life? Why was so much pressure put on them to do it, only to be thought "impure" afterward? But philosophical ruminations on the true nature of virginity and manhood quickly dissolved as his flesh slid into hers.

Hot. She was so hot and wet and swollen and heavenly exquisite. He could feel her stretching to accommodate him as he thrust forward, and the further in he went, the more resistance he met. Some instinct deep in his brain, some biological imperative, was attempting to force him into bringing this to its inevitable conclusion now—right now, no matter what his plans had originally been. He had expected as much, given the way some men tended to talk in the locker room, but Astrals, it was stronger than he had prepared for. Suddenly, the focus of his entire being was somewhere other than his mind, and he finally understood what all the fuss was about.

 _So . . . tight._ He breathed heavily through his clenched teeth, faltering in his achingly slow advance to hold himself back from ramming himself all the way in and taking her. That damned potion, the influence of which he'd thought had been washed away with their telepathic connection, made itself well and truly known at the onslaught of sensation. An image floated up in his mind's eye—of himself pinning her to the couch and driving into her, his teeth scraping painfully over her neck as though he were some sort of barbarian—but he flicked it away.

Her. No matter how good this felt, he must remember to concentrate on _her_.

After what seemed a monumental effort, he shuddered when he felt her heat encircling the base of him, and he looked down as he realized she'd held still and quiet this entire time. He twitched inside her when he moved to brush a stray lock of hair from her temple with a smile that could possibly pass as a grimace, and she clenched around him in response, startling him. Was that something unique to her species, or could human women do that as well? Everything else about her this evening had seemed human to him, as far as he could tell.

 _I'm . . . inside you,_ he said in wonder, brushing aside his curiosity and stroking her belly, where beneath skin and muscle and gut, he lay nestled between her folds. _Are you . . . all right?_

 _I'm just fine, love,_ she lied, because he could feel fine coils of need quivering beneath the steady tone of her mental voice. It felt as though she wanted this as violently as he did, which wasn't helping him compose himself. _Are you?_

"Forgive me," he said quietly, struggling to maintain a hold on himself. "I need a moment."

"Of course. Come here."

When he lowered himself to his elbows over her, she frowned a little, wrapping her hands around his shoulders and pulling him closer. "All the way."

"Are you—" but he cautiously obeyed, slowly pressing their naked bodies together until she let out a deep sigh, her contentment flowing into him and calming his throbbing heart.

They lay breathing together in that dark little room, listening to the upbeat music and laughter still floating up from the balcony doors. It seemed surreal to him that life could still be marching past them moment by moment as though his hadn't just been transformed, as though a goddess as powerful as the Six they worshipped wasn't currently running warm hands reverently up and down his back. Had he been alone in his own head, he might have felt patronized, an inconvenience at this gentle coddling, but she was there with him, feeling just as precious and cherished from his comforting weight as he was from her touch. They couldn't be any closer than they were right now, entwined in mind and body alike, and he had never felt more unreservedly loved. This, right here, was why he'd come back from the dead.

It was a moment humbling in its tenderness.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear, hoping she could read clearly in his mind that he was referring to _every_ kindness he'd experienced at her compassionate hand. She turned her head to capture his lips and threaded her fingers through his hair, echoing his gratitude and letting that warmth flow between them.

He was at peace. He was ready.

Ignis braced himself on his forearms and withdrew before thrusting slowly back into her. That electric current of pleasure thrummed through his blood and threatened to take him over just as it had before, but he found he could repress it with greater ease after their quiet moment. Still, he couldn't quite manage to hold in his gasp at just how _good_ it felt to move in her.

"Oh," Laura breathed, bringing her hands to his temples and intensifying the closeness of their connection.

"You need—" He slid a hand down between them, parting her sex with his fingers and applying what he had learned before of how she preferred to be touched—rhythmic, circular motions with his middle fingers.

"Yes."

He set a slow, reverent pace, grateful that she wasn't pushing him to move faster with that luscious pleasure threatening to overtake him with every stroke. Her sex seemed to cling to him each time he withdrew, tugging enticingly at his foreskin as though persuading him to stay. But he restrained that selfish creature that still silently begged him to finish this now and worked on perfecting the angle and fluidity of his thrusts, experimenting with his fingers until the resonant frequency of her telepathic call reached the precise pitch to create absolute synergy with his. Operating on an instinct he couldn't possibly possess, he would've had no idea if what he was doing was correct if not for Laura's body beginning to quake beneath him, her fingers gripping his arms more tightly with each roll of his hips. His name fell over and over from her lips like a prayer in slow, deep sighs.

And there it was—his vision made manifest: her head thrown back, her eyes closed, her mouth hanging open as he moved in her. For the love of the Astrals, he'd watched her toy with Cor the Immortal before taking him down and holding a blade to his throat, and here she was moaning _his_ name for all the world like he was the one who was a god. He and he alone had brought her to this writhing state. It made him feel drunk with power.

But the most important condition of his victory tonight was yet to be accomplished. He swore to himself that he wouldn't allow this to develop into a complex, but he absolutely needed her to break first this time. His pride was at stake.

"Please, Rose," he growled through gritted teeth, holding back the tide of shivery heat coiling once again in his belly, "I want to watch it happen. Please, come for me, love."

He dropped his forehead to hers and did his best to reach out as he had when he'd died, but he couldn't sense her through the impending climax arresting his every coherent thought. She seemed to sense what he wanted, however, as she arched her back to curl closer to him in both body and mind, enveloping him.

"Ignis!" she pleaded, her body going straight and rigid beneath him, gripping him from the inside. The flood of pleasure washing over their connection was the moment he had been waiting for, and just as she began to flutter around him, he sealed his mouth to hers so she could swallow his cry and released himself. She pulled him to her chest as they shuddered together, their final short thrusts creating a soft sucking sound between them until they went still.

It was wet, sweaty, and to be honest, absolutely bloody disgusting, but he had never in his life felt more content, almost inebriated with tranquility. He felt as though he'd undergone some harrowing test and had been deemed acceptable.

Perhaps this was what it meant to be a man—to be secure enough in one's identity to have experienced the depths of despair and the very heights of pleasure and still come through with it intact.

With a final, tender kiss to her forehead to assure her that he was still grateful, he pulled out and rolled to her side, eager to allow the fine sheen of sweat forming on his brow and beneath his arms to dry. She scooted closer to the back of the couch to make room for him and sighed happily, her serenity unfurling between them and beginning to lull him into a sleep he didn't believe he'd be able to find this evening.

The distance and silence between them was comfortable with her light touch in his head. He didn't have to explain to her that he needed space for just a few minutes nor worry that she was secretly upset, just has he didn't need to awkwardly make conversation in an attempt to ensure there were no regrets about what had just happened. He wasn't required to say a word for her to know that he had every intention of holding her close as soon as this tumultuous feeling settled.

Behind his closed eyelids, he detected the flash of her magic with its accompanying whoosh of breathy wind before he felt something warm and wet being pressed between his legs. Raising his head to look down, he saw that she'd summoned a wipe to clean him.

"I figured that was probably contributing. You'd have trouble sleeping like that." She dismissed the wipe and conjured another, but he held out a hand to stop her.

"Please, allow me."

She hesitated. "You don't need to prove anything. I can handle it myself."

But he took the wipe from her anyway. From what he'd read, aftercare was an essential part of bonding, and whether or not _she_ believed he had nothing to prove, he wished to present himself as a solicitous potential mate.

"I know," he lied, knowing full-well that she was aware of the falsehood, but she relented and allowed him to clean her of him.

A potential mate—was that what he was now? Or perhaps she saw him as less than that despite her affections. No matter the terms, he would never regret having made this decision, but he feared this tenuous desire for more and whether it was shared. For as much as she spoke of a comingled future and as interested as he was in the prospect, he expected nothing, but the ambiguity of their status disquieted him. Even if he had no intentions of demanding a definitive name for what they were—of demanding anything of her—an illuminated path would be helpful in determining his behavior from here on out.

What was he, really? The consort of a goddess?

"No," she said softly, rolling to her side and propping up on an elbow. "Just the lover of a woman. Always remember you have just as much agency in this as I do."

"I'm your lover," he stated flatly, disbelievingly.

Her tone grew uncertain. "Y-yes, and I am yours, if you'll have me."

"Yes," he blurted out emphatically, brokering no doubt whatsoever as to his position on the matter. He had trouble believing she would expect his answer to be any different, but the way the skin around her eyes loosened at his answer told him a different story. He cupped her cheek in his hand and pressed his lips to hers. "It would be my honor. But . . . out of curiosity . . ."

She frowned. "What is it?"

"What will you do when our mission is complete? You said you were a traveler just passing through. Will you leave? Return to searching for home?"

She sighed and looked down between them. "Let me start by saying this won't be am unpleasant conversation for you, but I need to pull away from your mind while we have it. It wouldn't be fair of me to hear your thoughts."

"All right," he agreed, but he still felt reluctant to let her go and lose that depth and freedom of expression he'd discovered.

As though he were emerging from an ocean, the humming warmth of her presence receded slowly, allowing him time to adjust to the shocking cold, until he was suddenly alone once again—the imprint of her mind fading from his like an afterimage. The loss was as though he'd been given a taste of the world in three dimensions and was now being returned to his two-dimensional world, left to wonder whether the adventure had been nothing more than a wild fantasy.

He found the experience distasteful.

"I have an infinite number of lifetimes at my disposal," she began, reaching up to pull her blanket down from the back of the couch and spreading it over the both of them when she noticed him shiver. Despite the blanket's hideousness, it was surprisingly soft and not too warm for the heat of the city. "I could spend one with you, if you want. But it's a decision you must make for yourself. You could choose to leave me at any time, of course, as with any other relationship, but I would never forgive myself if you waited too late in your life to find someone who could give you everything you wanted."

He burrowed his arm beneath her neck, wishing to regain some of that lost intimacy he was already missing but not wanting to pull her to him and smother her. She reached up to stroke his cheek, her eyes fathomless and melancholy.

"I need you to take the time to really think about the consequences of a long-term relationship with me. Loving me is like loving a wraith; you can never have a full life."

He furrowed his brow in thought. How could she have possibly come to that conclusion when she'd already fulfilled him so much?

"I have no family here," she explained, "No one to spend time with during holiday picnics or invite to special events. I can never give you a family, either; I can never bear your children."

Her brows pinched together in that wistful faraway expression that would sometimes cross her face. "You can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I can alter my appearance to give the illusion of aging along with you, but we won't truly grow old together. If there's any kind of afterlife here, I won't be able to join you.

"Also, I'm bound by the laws of time, space, and dimensions in a way that you aren't. Some of your decisions are capable of creating new dimensions—lives you might have dreamed of living, paths never taken. I am forbidden from making any decision that creates a new dimension wherever I walk, as I cannot create alternate versions of myself. I may have to allow you to die in order to preserve those laws for the sake of the fabric of this universe. I've also committed many terrible crimes in my long life that may horrify you to learn of."

He took a breath to argue with at least some of her points, but she interrupted him.

"Don't say anything now. Just think about it. Please?"

He swallowed his arguments reluctantly and nodded, deciding it would be best to give her points more thought before rebutting.

"You know, you look different with your hair all the way down and mussed like that," she said more quietly, her expression softening as her eyes wandered up to his hair.

Little had she known, he'd always tried his best to ensure she never saw him like this. He'd been told far too many times that he looked so much younger with his hair down—the last impression he wanted to make on her.

"I'm sure I look a fright."

"You're stunning." She reached up to comb her fingers through his bangs, letting her nails drag over his scalp, and he closed his eyes and hummed his appreciation.

"Do you . . . prefer it this way?" he asked hesitantly. He _could_ add a bit of style to it so it appeared neater in this state, but he had always hated the way it fell into his eyes.

"I like the change, that's all," she said with a half-shrug. "I find you beautiful with it up or down."

"I see."

"Did you have a preference? With me?"

Ignis frowned, curling the arm beneath her neck so that it tangled in the hair pressed flat against her bare back. "Your choice to keep it up during the day is sensible, given the life in which we've found ourselves, but I prefer it down."

"Oh?"

He let his hand glide down the long swath of soft strands. "Yes."

"Oh. _Oh_. I understand."

Somewhat embarrassed, he changed the subject. "The other five, did you make them the same offer as you've made me?"

She shook her head. "Two of them. James, the Doctor, was with me when I discovered my immortality, so I suppose he was the first I made the offer to. He was the only one I ever bonded with."

"A mortal bonded to an immortal," he said lightly, infusing his tone with a casual curiosity she was likely to see right through. "It must have been difficult for you."

"It broke both our hearts when he had to leave, but for me, his love and the fond memories he gave me will always be worth the pain of his loss— _always_."

"But you didn't bond with the other."

"I couldn't have. He was . . . well, he was an android, believe it or not."

Ignis looked away, trying to recall whether he'd heard that word before. He was unaccustomed to being the one in a conversation having to ask for the definition of a word, and those first several days after she'd confessed and was allowed to speak more freely were an exercise in frustration—until she'd pointed out that she didn't know what existed and what didn't on Eos, and she wasn't so vicious as to ridicule him for not knowing words and concepts from different worlds. Once she'd made that point, he'd found it only too easy to admit his ignorance when she said something unrecognizable.

"I'm afraid that's one of your words I'm unfamiliar with."

"A robot, then? I've heard you use the word 'robotics' before."

An image swam unbidden into his mind—the eerie expressionless stare of an MT, its glowing scarlet eyes set into a mask of frozen placidity. Logically, he would assume that her choice in lover would be more benign, but he couldn't shake the image of her lying with . . .

"Magitek?" he asked, attempting as best he could to mask the distaste in his voice.

"Oh god, no, nothing like that," she reassured him. "He _was_ mechanical, his brain programmed by a brilliant cyberneticist, but he was sophisticated enough to appear mostly human and possessed his own thoughts. He claimed to be incapable of any sort of emotion, but I think he was wrong about that." A wistful, tender smile softened her eyes as they drifted away from his. "Data saw the world with wonder and curiosity, fascinated with everything that came naturally to humans but not to him: art, music, literature, emotion, even comedy . . . god, he was a terrible comedian."

Ignis relaxed somewhat at her description of the . . . man. Personality-wise, the android didn't sound that different from himself.

"It sounds as though I could relate to him."

She hummed. "You know, you probably could. You both have that same thirst for knowledge and desire to please. You both play the violin, too."

"What happened?" his brain seemed to ask before he could censor himself. Of course he knew the answer, but that disrespectful lout beneath his courtesy had once again made an appearance, it would seem.

She turned her head to stare up at the ceiling, her expression confirming his supposition. "Before he could give me an answer, he died. He was so young—he was supposed to be immortal himself, in a way, and he died saving his captain—another exemplary contribution to humanity. Actually, you and Jean-Luc are very much alike. Eerily so."

"There's no more meaningful way for a servant to die than in service to one's liege when he is worthy of the honor," he said significantly. They might have already covered the basics of this conversation in the kitchen, but if she had clearly spelled out her shortcomings, he thought it only fair that he do the same. "I'm not exactly a complete person, either. I too have no family at the moment, besides what you see, and I am bound to Noct first and foremost. My duty to him must always come before you, even if it were to cost your life."

She turned back to him and leaned forward to gently kiss his cheek. "I know that. It's part of what I love about all of you—your devotion to each other, and it's neither my desire nor intention to come between any of you."

"I do have one question about the decision I have to make."

"I would hope that you eventually have more than one," she said with a soft smile, "but of course, ask anything you wish."

"Would we form a telepathic bond if we were to stay together?"

He felt as though he were the fisherman featured in a fable from his childhood—the one granted a single wish from Bahamut but continued to seek favors until he was finally turned into a sword as punishment for his greed. But the return of that emptiness in his head after having spent the evening in her light had thrown the difference into sharp relief, and though he could live without it, he didn't want to if more were possible.

"If you wished it, I would, yes—happily. It wouldn't be like it is now. We'd both have privacy and control, but a part of me would be with you, and you with me, at all times. It could never be undone. You'd have to be sure in your decision for the rest of your life."

He wanted to answer her immediately, 'Yes, bond with me this very moment,' but even he knew that it would be a most rash and unwise decision. He would wait until the heat of this evening had cooled somewhat, reflect on each of her points thoroughly, and confirm his decision then.

"Then I shall consider all you have said very carefully."

"Take all the time you need, please," she pleaded. "This is important. Don't rush because you think I'm waiting on your answer. No matter how long it takes to make a decision either way, I'll wait."

"I shall." Though touched by her devotion, he knew even now that it wouldn't take him very long.

"Good," she answered, drawing closer and curling her hands to his chest. "Now. Don't think I haven't noticed your mind prickling in thought for an hour or even longer every night before you go to sleep. I'm so glad to finally be able to ask you this—would you allow me to put you to sleep immediately so you can get your rest?"

He blinked down at her. Ignis had long grown accustomed to getting inadequate sleep, and as his hours had increased these past weeks, he found that habit wouldn't allow him more than four hours or so. He would lie awake most nights, unable to shut his mind off amidst the cries of the creatures of the dark before finally finding a few hours' fitful rest. The exercise was doubly frustrating because he was also wasting his time. Of course, sleep itself was a waste of time, but he couldn't deny that he needed it, even more so since leaving Insomnia and hunting and tomb raiding out here in the wild.

"That would be agreeable—as long as you aren't adversely affected."

"Not in the slightest."

"Then thank you." As she laid her palm flat to his face, he thought to ask, "What will you do? It can hardly be entertaining watching me sleep all night."

"Sorry, but no. It wouldn't be—and I'm not that creepy. No, I could still use more rest after everything that happened yesterday."

"Forgiv—"

"Don't you dare ask forgiveness for that. If I wasn't feeling well enough, I wouldn't have established a connection with you tonight." She soothed her hand down his cheek, her tone growing softer. "I love having you with me. It's comforting."

"Then . . . would it be beneficial for us both to stay together tonight?"

"You mean—in here?" she asked hesitantly, touching his temple, and he nodded.

"You . . . really want that?"

"If it pleases you and isn't too much of a bother."

"I'd love that." She leaned up to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head to capture her lips instead. When they pulled apart, she asked, "Do you have enough room?"

"Yes. I prefer sleeping on my side."

"Then I'll see you in a moment."

As he closed his eyes, he felt the dawn break over his mind once more, and he smiled to himself—at peace.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

In case there are any Star Trek TNG fans out there, Laura was with Data in an alternate reality where he never got the emotion chip.


	29. Chapter 29

Noct feathered a hand over the back of his head, checking to make sure his hair was sticking out at the right angle after he'd fixed it with the new gel they'd bought at one of the market stalls the other day. It just didn't feel right to him. The creepy kid they'd purchased it from claimed it would hold a style even in the rain, but he just didn't like how it made his hair feel all crispy. Maybe he'd ask Iggy what he'd been using, since he didn't seem to be asking to borrow any of their store-bought stuff after they'd run out of what they'd brought from Insomnia.

That was, if Iggy ever showed his face again after last night.

He let out a sigh and flicked his eyes to Prompto sitting on the other bed, watching his head bob along to whatever melody he was humming under his breath like this was any other morning, like they weren't all awkwardly waiting here for something to happen. He stared down at his boots, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach. It didn't matter how hungry he was; he wasn't gonna be the first to break, no way. There was absolutely no way in Ifrit's fresh hell he was gonna—

"Fine. I'll do it," Gladio sighed. He stood and headed toward the kitchen door.

"Wow, really going for that voyeurism award, hey big guy?" Prompto chuckled.

Gladio stopped and shot them an evil grin, waggling his eyebrows. "Hey, gotta live vicariously somehow. And since _you_ guys aren't gettin' any . . ."

He shut the door loudly behind him, and Noct immediately looked down at the floor, but he couldn't really say why. It wasn't like him choosing to stay behind was gonna save him from Spec's fury. He winced and waited for the silence to be shattered—possibly by Gladio screaming about the dagger sticking out of his arm—but everything stayed quiet.

The door opened more quietly this time, and Gladio stepped into the room, a satisfied smirk spreading over his face.

"Door's locked, which is pretty impressive, considering there isn't a lock on that door. My guess is they're both conked out still."

"He _is_ okay, right?" Noct asked, growing concerned. If Specs wasn't up before the sun, it was just possible the world was coming to an end. "There's no way that potion could like, go wrong or anything?"

"Heh, believe me, Iggy's feelin' just fine. Let's do some of the local stuff on the list and pick up some chow. We'll come back and see if they're up for lunch."

They spent the morning running the errands that would keep them in Lestallum—picking up the shopping or delivering heavy stuff for the locals in a town where none of the cars were allowed beyond the main street out front. But the city just wasn't as interesting after spending a week with the Leville as their base of operations. They'd tried a lot of the new foods, practically memorized the market, and bought up all the good weapons they could afford. There wasn't really a good selection of tackle here, so that pretty much covered all that Noct would find interesting about being dragged around the hot and filthy streets with armfuls of bags filled with scrap meat for Mrs. Sypert's yappy pack of terriers.

Ignis and Laura would flit through Noct's mind every time he pulled out the sheet and crossed a chore out, listed in Ignis's sharp, angular script or Laura's embellished cursive. It felt weird not having them around—even though that meant there wasn't a single piece of fruit or vegetable in sight for breakfast. Noct and Prompto had wound up getting enough meat skewers for him to still feel a little queasy a few hours later, and Gladio had flexed his muscles a little at the Cup Noodle guy to see if he could get a "bulk" discount.

Noct didn't know if he just really wanted some Cup Noodles or if Gladio actually swung both ways, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna ask. He didn't mind getting to know more about his friends, but there was such a thing as boundaries. Of course, he was gonna have to decide really, really soon where those boundaries were when he returned to the hotel, and he still hadn't quite worked that out yet.

"I'm gettin' hungry," said a man leaning against the corner of a building up ahead. He reached out to shove at his friend, who was using a half-decayed broom to sweep off his stoop, creating a long cloud of dust in the air that made Noct's eyes water as they drew closer. "Want to grab a bite on the street? Found this cart that sells empanadas to die for."

"I don't know," the other guy said with a shrug. "Pretty rowdy at this hour, what with all the women coming off their shifts."

"Well, if you want quiet, we could always go to a back-alley joint."

He'd never really thought about it before leaving home, but the male-female dynamics here were just so . . . weird.

Noct stopped paying attention as Gladio took a sharp left and headed up a short flight of stairs to stop at a dark wooden door marked 251. Prompto tossed his sack at his feet and collapsed off to the side with a dramatic moan before Gladio could even raise a free hand to knock. After a few seconds and a lot of what sounded like high-pitched screeching, a dark-skinned woman, her face leathery with age and sun, cautiously opened the door, pulling the fat, smoking cigar from her mouth.

"Yes?"

"Delivery for you, Mrs. Sypert," Gladio said, holding up his bag.

She opened the door wider to reveal her blindingly bright yellow housedress, complete with chocobo-print socks pulled halfway up her shins.

"Titan bless you boys. I don't recall asking anyone to pick this up for me, but I'm so grateful I did," Mrs. Sypert said as Gladio heaved his canvas sack of paper-wrapped packages onto the crumbling old stoop just after Noct. At the sound of several squealing yelps growing closer, she hurriedly stepped outside and shut the door behind her. "Do you remember how much I promised you for the job?"

"Uhh . . ." Noct pulled out the list and checked it over. "Looks like you're good. Your son Ernie said he'd give us a discount. Laura worked all the details out with you a coupla days ago?"

"Oh, well if you s—"

The telltale tremble beneath Noct's boots gave him just enough time to widen his stance before it grew violent—shaking and shifting and rumbling enough to almost knock his feet from under him. As he had every time an eosquake struck since Laura had fixed his head, Noct tensed, waiting for that burning pain and the suffocating pictures to appear, but his mind, at least, stayed quiet and all his own. The old neighborhood they were currently standing in, however, didn't seem to be standing up to the violent quaking as well. Mrs. Sypert's dogs howled frantically from behind the thick wooden door, and Noct swore he could hear a deep, ominous cracking coming from a bright blue house two doors down.

"Oh!" Mrs. Sypert gasped, stumbling into Prompto, who nearly fell over himself catching her. She clutched at her beaded necklace Noct was always seeing everywhere, fingering it as though searching for a specific bead. "The wrath of the Archaean will surely tear this city to pieces if he isn't placated soon!"

"They've been getting worse," Gladio shouted over the rumbling and the panicked cries of people hugging themselves to thick stone columns. "This happen a lot here?"

"No!" As the thunderous rumble began to subside, she added, "Eosquakes haven't occurred here since the times of legend. I fear these portents may spell the end of the world."

"Sounds like something we should look into," Prompto suggested, his eyes sliding to Noct furtively.

"Yeah," Gladio agreed. "We gotta get going."

"So should we handle more of the list or head back to the hotel?" Prompto asked when Mrs. Sypert's door closed behind her, the shrieks of yipping dogs becoming almost deafening for a second before being cut off by the heavy wooden barrier.

"I dunno. Dunno if Ignis and Laura are . . . awake yet, but we should get on this Titan thing now that everyone's . . . recovered after yesterday. These quakes are probably my fault."

"I dunno. It could just be a coincidence. Hey, d'ya think they're dating?"

"Huh?"

"Iggy and Laura!"

"Dunno. Doubt it."

It didn't matter _what_ they'd overheard last night—there was just no way Specs was dating a seven-thousand-year-old alien. Gladio's explanation last night had made way more sense, in Noct's opinion.

Gladio had hung out with the Glaives a lot in Insomnia, so he was the only one of the three of them who knew about "phoenix down fever," except probably Ignis. Noct was pretty sure he would've remembered his dad or Ignis covering it in their lessons with him. But a potion that made someone uncontrollably . . . energetic was really the only explanation for what they'd overheard last night. Noct had never heard Ignis raise his voice for anything except in battle, even when he was pissed, especially when he was pissed. Even when he spoke sharply—fuck, even when he died—he'd always been so quiet. But those sounds last night . . . Noct hadn't even recognized Ignis's voice at first. He'd sounded almost . . . animalistic.

He shuddered. Gods . . . the idea of it was just so weird, and kinda disgusting. He wondered how weird things would be now that Specs was presumably returned to his normal, stuffy self. The poor guy was probably horrified to wake up this morning to everything he'd done.

"You know how Iggy is," Gladio said, his eyes catching on a bronze-skinned girl who flashed him a flirtatious smile. He turned his head to check her out as they passed by, but he added, "He might not be dating her. Might actually be tryin' to formally court her, but I dunno if he's got the freedom to do that without his head of house in the picture, whoever that even is. Damn, the women here are built. You know that?"

Prompto's attention was also locked on the girl now several feet behind them, but he had turned to walk backwards in order to keep watching her. "Oh yeah, you guys do that, don'tcha? Courting? I forgot about that. Good thing us plebs don't have to worry about that kinda thing. When d'ya think you'll start courting, Gladio? You're gettin' kinda old, man. And you're head of your house now, right? Don't gotta wait for permission!"

Noct winced. Prompto spoke without thinking things through sometimes, and when he did, he really managed to put his foot in it.

"Pfft. Never," Gladio said with a hollow laugh.

"But hey. Can you court a god though?"

"Can you date a god?" Noct retorted, eager to get off the topic of Gladio's dead father, even if it meant talking about Ignis. "I dunno. It's probably just the potion. He couldn't help it. Bet things'll be all weird now it's the morning after."

"I dunno," Gladio said thoughtfully. "Dunno if it works like that. Either way, let him have his fun . . . while we have ours." With a gleeful grin, he made a left off La Via Vieja onto the smaller alley that led to the Leville.

"What're you up to?" Noct asked.

"Almost lunch time," he growled evilly, his grin widening, "and I'm hungry."

The door to the living room portion of their suite seemed to loom over him as they loitered in the hall. Noct still hadn't worked out what he was gonna say—if he was gonna say anything at all. He'd been feeling all this pressure to get involved in everyone's lives lately, but he wasn't equipped to handle this kinda thing. If he understood the situation correctly, his uptight, overly proper, pain in the ass advisor had essentially lost his virginity to an alien goddess while on drugs. He had to be upset, and Noct wanted to be there for him, but sweet fucking Six, what should he even _say_?

Maybe nothing would be best.

He hesitated, the key halfway to the lock. He looked over at Gladio and Prompto waiting expectantly.

"You think they're awake by now?"

"Probably," Prompto said with a shrug. "They both get up really early. I'm kinda shocked they were still asleep this morning, even with—" He waved a vague hand in the air. "—everything."

"I'm not," Gladio snorted. "Better knock first though. Bet Iggy'd die if we saw anything 'improper.'"

"Or kill us," Noct muttered under his breath. He put the key back in his pocket and rapped his knuckles on the door, feeling weird that this was even necessary. This was _Ignis_ for gods' sakes; the guy was _always_ decent.

Until last night.

He heard Iggy's soft, accented, "It's open," and shot Gladio and Prompto a questioning look. The Specs from Insomnia would have greeted them at the door, ushered them inside, insisted they take off their shoes and place them in the cabinet, and brought them a tray of snacks. And now this? It was cool if this was just Ignis finally beginning to loosen up a little—Noct could open his own door just fine—but what if he was too upset or embarrassed to come to the door?

Noct just wasn't built to handle this social uncertainty.

"Will you just open the damn door already?" Gladio demanded quietly. Noct didn't get how he could be so calm about this whole thing—like he wasn't expecting Ignis to be even a little upset.

He took a small breath and opened the door.

The room was, of course, immaculate, containing no evidence of anything out of the perfectly ordinary having happened. Ignis was sitting in an armchair—relaxed for him—his back pulled perfectly straight, his legs crossed, and a book in his lap. His expression appeared calm and composed as his eyes danced over the page, except that when Noct stepped around the room divider and inspected him more closely, he spotted what was maybe the slightest hint of color staining his cheeks.

Ever since they were kids, that blush of his had always gotten the both of them into trouble. Any lie Noct would try to tell, and all the adults would have to do was look at Ignis. The habit had been just as bad as if he'd been a tattler, so Noct had taken to leaving him behind or not telling him about his plans to do stuff, like sneaking out of the Citadel or trying to sled down the highest staircase, until it was actually happening. He'd gotten better at hiding it over the years—and fuck, Noct just realized why—but the super personal stuff still seemed to bring it out in him.

"Heyyyy Iggy," Gladio crowed, pushing around Noct to reach out and slap Ignis on the shoulder. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, in fact, I did," he said smoothly, using a single finger to push his glasses carefully up his nose. "It seems there is nothing better for a good night's sleep than a near-death experience." He turned a page and kept reading.

So this was how it was gonna be? Noct couldn't say he was too surprised at the reaction, even if he was relieved not to find Ignis in here freaking out. Specs always acted like he could handle anything that came his way, and why should this be any different? But after the paradoxis, Noct knew better now. Appearances could be deceiving.

Then again, maybe it hadn't been a traumatic experience after all—in which case, he was delusional if he really thought the other two weren't gonna drag details out of him, or at least harass him about it. As dearly as Noct would love to rib the great Ignis Scientia for finally cracking under pressure, he decided it would be best to take it easy on him, just in case.

"Your book's upside down," Noct muttered as they all took their seats. Ignis nodded in thanks and stealthily flipped it over. He must've just sat down, which meant Laura was probably nearby. He didn't want to think what they might've been doing a couple of minutes ago.

"Where's Laura?" he asked, figuring it would be the best way to gauge how things were gonna be from now on. It seemed like the best way to tell Ignis's mood since leaving Insomnia was to ask about her.

He didn't look up from his book. "She's in the kitchen making tea and fresh bread for us to use for sandwiches."

Well, that told him pretty much nothing.

It was Prompto, surprisingly, who decided to cut to the chase. "So . . . how was it?"

Gladio leaned forward on the couch, slapping the middle cushion suggestively. "Yeah, gotta know how that potion worked out for yah."

Oh, Six, they hadn't done it on the couch, had they? Gross. He hadn't needed that image.

Ignis glanced up from his book with a well-practiced, indifferent expression. "I beg your pardon?"

"If ya need any pointers for next time, just ask," he said with a wink. "Gotta million of 'em."

"Critiques, no doubt, from past encounters," Ignis muttered under his breath, looking back down at his book.

"Oooh, burn!" Prompto laughed, slapping a dumbstruck Gladio on the back, but his tone grew a little whiny. "Dude! You slept with like, a real-life goddess. That's like saying you got to sleep with Shiva herself! Come on, you gotta tell us _something_!"

"I agree. Not every day a guy lands a girl like that," Gladio said.

When Ignis looked over at Noct as though waiting for his contribution, Noct grimaced. "Sorry, Specs. You're nuts if you think we're not gonna talk about this. That kinda stuff only happens on TV."

Ignis frowned, silently shifting his attention to Gladio and Prompto. Fingering idly at the corner of his book, he appeared like he didn't have a care in the world as his facial features settled into that distant, aloof expression he'd always maintained at the Citadel. But his input wasn't really needed to fuel Prompto and Gladio's enthusiastic commentary.

"Oh yeah, and she's an alien too, right? Does she even have . . . you know, lady parts?" Prompto asked, his mouth twisting doubtfully. He made some kinda gesture with two fingers in the air that Noct didn't even _want_ to know what it was supposed to refer to.

Gladio didn't give Ignis a chance to respond—not that he was gonna do much besides lift his chin a little higher, and maybe clench his jaw a little.

"Well, she musta had some kinda lady parts as much as she was calling out his name last night. Shut the windows next time, Ig. There's tip number one for ya."

"Ha ha! Name 'Ignis' is probably gonna be the most famed in Lestallum among the lay-deez now," Prompto guffawed, bobbing his head in agreement.

"Better start usin' an alias while you're here, otherwise you're gonna be beatin' 'em back with a stick."

It was a particularly evil thing to say, because even though the three of them hadn't heard a sound after Gladio had shooed them from the kitchen, the windows probably _had_ been open last night as they always were, and judging by the red shooting down Spec's neck, Laura probably _had_ called out his name.

Gross.

"Did she do anything alien? Ooh, does she have tentacles?" Prompto asked, and at these words, Ignis finally lost the battle with his composure to choke on his own breath, pulling out a handkerchief to cough delicately into it.

Gross. Gross. Gross.

Noct sincerely hoped his reaction didn't mean Prompto had hit too close to home, but again, no way in hell was he gonna ask.

There were several beats of heavy silence before Gladio muttered, "What the fuck, man."

"What? It's possible!"

"Man, you're twisted," Noct chuckled, leaning to the side to rest his forehead in his hand. "No more 'manga' for you."

That poise Specs was so famous for was beginning to slip as he began shaking his head back and forth in tiny jerks.

"I . . . I refuse to dignify any of . . . _this_ with any sort of response," he stammered.

Enough was enough. All this teasing, and they really hadn't learned anything. He was starting to get the sense that maybe Specs was more sensitive about stuff than he let on, and what if he was secretly nursing some anguish over what had happened?

"Just . . . tell us you're happy," Noct said reluctantly, still feeling kinda awkward about pressing him like this. "Tell us anything."

Ignis closed his eyes for a second and sighed. Staring down at his hands folded over his book, he said quietly, "I _am_. It was . . . a good thing."

Noct breathed in and let it out on a long, slow sigh. The words were more of a relief than he expected. Whether or not he and Laura continued with their . . . fling, he would've hated to think that Specs had lost his virginity against his will cause he was doped up on a potion and ended up regretting it.

"Wow," Prompto sighed dramatically. "It's just so . . . romantic. The Queen and the Chamberlain—if we're real-life RPG characters, that's a fanfiction waiting to happen, complete with a sex pollen subplot!"

"All right, guys," Noct interrupted the laughter when Ignis's face had almost turned purple, "why don't you head into the kitchen and torture Laura? I gotta talk to Ignis alone for a sec," Noct said.

"Heh, better hope she's not crouched behind the door with a knife for the tentacle comment," Gladio chuckled, slapping Prompto on the back of the head.

Ignis's eyes followed the other two as they crossed the room to the kitchen door, Prompto looking a little pale. When it had swung shut behind them, he looked at Noct, his face returned to its mask of cool indifference.

"Highness?"

Noct might not have known as much about Ignis as he'd thought, but something didn't feel right about this whole situation.

Ignis was probably the second of his friends to lose his virginity, at least Noct thought. He was pretty sure Gladio had been with a bunch of people. Even if his reputation back in Insomnia had been fake, it was pretty obvious he was getting around here in the outlands—the secret phone calls, furtive texts, the late nights that couldn't possibly have all been spent with Iris. But that hadn't been the kinda thing Gladio would've confided in him about when they were teenagers, much to Noct's relief. And Prompto—Prompto was probably gonna spend the rest of his life pining after people he could never have if something didn't change.

As for Noct, he'd messed around a little with one girl in Twelfth Year, but after she'd gone around school the next day talking about how she'd bagged the Prince and Iggy'd had to do whatever he did to put a lid on her, he'd decided there was no way he was gonna go through that again. It just wasn't worth the hassle. Plus, there had always been the far-fetched possibility of him and Luna. At least she'd never do that to him.

Noct had always thought Specs would be the last of them to pair off, if at all. Who'd want to put up with his stuffy, overbearing perfectionism and oppressive work schedule? Who could handle him cleaning everything and fussing over everything all the time?

And for so many years, Noct had seriously wondered if something was wrong with him. He'd always been so distant, so aloof. They'd known each other almost their entire lives, and Noct couldn't even tell if he'd been into guys or girls or no one at all. Noct only knew he was a virgin because Noct had been a little freaked out after the whole Twelfth Year incident and stupidly asked him directly. He'd just blurted it out—practically shouted the question—before the horror of what he'd actually asked caught up with him. The most uncomfortable twenty seconds of Noct's life had followed after until Ignis had reluctantly stammered that he'd never been with anyone before turning and fleeing the room.

But now that he'd done it, whether it was a one-night stand or not, Noct didn't know what to think about part of Ignis belonging to someone else—whether that was Laura or anyone else he hooked up with in the future. Maybe he was acting like a dumb kid, but Specs had always been there for him, day or night, no matter what. Was that gonna change now?

But there was still something nagging at him about all this. He'd known Ignis for sixteen years and had never seen him show even a hint of interest in anyone. Not that Noct had always been the most observant spectator in Iggy's life, but even if he'd somehow missed out on Dating Specs in the last couple of years, it didn't explain how almost six weeks after meeting her, he was having sex with an alien in the kitchen. As much as he hated to get up in Ignis's business when he was such a private guy, Noct had learned his lesson about not asking questions, about not noticing. And history had just recently taught him that shit that happened to his friends was in his power to change as long as he looked after them enough to know about it.

"Listen, I'm not gonna rag on ya. I just wanna make sure you're okay, Specs. This is all sudden and so not like you."

Ignis kept his eyes locked on the book in his lap as he spoke.

"I assure you—nothing sinister is happening here. I am fully cognizant of my actions, as well as how they may seem out of my ordinary custom. And I must offer my most sincere apologies that our behavior disturbed the group's rest."

"Don't worry about that," Noct said hurriedly on the wild chance that Ignis had lost his mind and was about to go into greater detail. "Just . . . be careful, 'kay? If you guys start fighting or get distracted or something out here, it could get you killed . . . again."

Ignis's gaze shot up to lock intensely on his. "I understand, Highness. If you so command, I'll end things with her immediately."

Noct's mouth fell open in shock. He'd been raised knowing what his responsibilities were to his retainers, but he'd always hoped he'd never be faced with them. This was too much power to hold over someone's life. There was no subject on this planet where his judgment could be compared to Ignis's. But it seemed like every lesson he'd learned as a kid was catching up to him these days in a very real and potentially life-altering way.

If there were "things" to end, then it sounded like Ignis was planning on continuing whatever this was, but he couldn't be too serious about the relationship if he was offering to let her go so easily. But that didn't mean he wouldn't fall for someone harder in the future now that that seal had been broken.

Noct thought he'd finally found his boundary to set. He'd hold true to being responsible for his retainers as he'd been taught, but if he was the king now, he was gonna do away with this shit about controlling people's lives.

"Let's make one thing clear, Ig. You're always gonna do your job good. So your love life? Not really my business. Do what you want—with Laura, with anyone—and don't think you have to ask my permission for anything, okay?

"I appreciate that, Highness," he said in a low voice, his eyes drifting to the floor.

"Hey, also, one more thing . . . I never thanked you—you know, for what you did yesterday."

Ignis's brow furrowed as he looked up again. "Nor should you. We all do what must be done in these dark times. And—" He hesitated, swallowing. "I had other reasons."

"I know." And he really did know, but that didn't mean they were both gonna start crying, pull each other into a hug, and talk about their feelings. "Doesn't mean I can't tell you I appreciate it."

Most people didn't realize that Noct knew exactly what it meant to be the Chosen King—probably better than anyone else did. It was a lesson he'd learned the hard way at eight years old. Specs had always thought it was the marilith attack that had changed him so much, and even though that had contributed after the fact, Noct hadn't truly understood his calling until after he'd met Luna and she'd told him about the Crystal and his destiny.

He hadn't really understood at the time why no one had bothered to tell him that his dad had been protecting the magical Crystal that had brought peace and prosperity to the world, and that one day, that thing was somehow gonna crown him the King of Light. He still didn't get it, really, and honestly, it didn't really matter why after all these years—just like it didn't matter that no one knew what him being the King of Light meant beyond him doing _something_ that would save everyone one day. He'd be presented with those answers when the time came, just like everything else.

But what he would have to do someday or why no one ever told him anything wasn't what being the Chosen King was really about, no.

Queen Sylva's screams were still echoing in his ears when his dad had tucked him safe and sound in the yacht's bedroom below decks. The sight of his and his nanny's sticky, hot blood covering his hand and cheek was still a fresh memory, and he remembered wondering why everyone around him was being attacked all the sudden.

Until he realized that he'd been the common factor. Both times, he'd been the one they were really after. Because he had been the one destined to become the Chosen King.

And that was when he realized that being the Chosen King meant that no matter what he did in this life, everyone who cared about him would suffer because of who he was. The prophecy implied that only _he_ would have to live to see it through, no one else. And from then on, it had always been difficult for him to tell who was around because of duty to the Chosen and who was around because they cared. Seriously, it was even worse if they really cared, because he'd lose them to a violent death just like his nanny and Luna's mom. But he was starting to see now that more people had cared than he thought in these insane sacrifices they were making for him. Ignis cared. Prompto and Gladio had sacrificed a lot to stay with him, too. Did that mean Luna's sacrifices meant something more than just her duty as Oracle? He wasn't really ready to think about what that meant for the two of them.

All he knew was that he didn't like all these people suffering and making sacrifices because of him. He wasn't worth it. He wasn't the guy with the answers to saving this world.

But there were so few people left in the world now that he considered family. They were all he had to see him through this. If every lesson he'd never learned was gonna keep coming back to bite him in the ass and possibly get someone he cared about killed, then the time had long passed to do something about it.

"Hey Specs? You think when we get some free time you could refresh me on some of my old lessons?"

Ignis's eyes widened a fraction. "Well, well—perhaps I did die after all. Out of morbid curiosity, where is this sudden desire for additional schooling coming from?"

Noct smiled a little. It was stupid, but he loved playing this game with Specs—when he was awake enough to do it. They'd started it as kids and never really stopped, even after his trip to Tenebrae. Of course, Ignis always was better at it than he was, but that didn't stop him from trying to win every time.

"Come on, I'm dead serious. I keep forgetting about stuff I can do, like the phasing and the phoenix downs and stuff."

"I'm dying to see how you would react to my proposal that we begin lessons just after dawn, after Laura and I forage or spar in the mornings."

"No _way_ ," Noct said in a panic, too horrified to even think of a pun. "It doesn't even have to be every day. Just . . . when we get the chance."

Iggy smirked at him. "In over your head with me, as always. It's just as well; you never were a mourning person. We'll fit them in as the schedule allows, shall we?"

"Thanks, Ig."

"My pleasure as always, Highness."

They joined everyone in the kitchen afterwards, but the space was too crowded to eat with the five of them shoved in there, so they moved back into the living room after Iggy had quickly assembled four multi-meat sandwiches—one with extra, extra mustard just the way he liked it best. Laura stayed behind for a minute to finish making the tea and to put some nasty-looking green goop on her toast, which she'd called "avocado."

Whatever Laura had said to Prompto and Gladio in private had done the trick, because lunch was much more low-key than when they'd first arrived. Feeling hungry all the sudden, Noct finished eating almost as fast as Gladio and stood to take his dish into the kitchen.

It was harder work than he'd expected—subtly taking over little parts of chores without Ignis noticing. They'd all started with small stuff first, like taking their own plates to the washing area or combining one load of laundry a week between the three of them so there was that much less to do. Gladio and Noct had staged an entire conversation about Noct's newfound interest in blade sharpening techniques. Prompto had started taking stock of their curatives so he could alert them if they needed stuff whenever they were in town.

From the looks Laura gave them, she knew exactly what they were all doing, but approved. Noct couldn't tell if Ignis had noticed yet, but he hadn't gotten offended, at least. They might not have freed up much of his time, but Noct had caught him doing stuff over the last few days he'd never seen him do before, like meditating, of all things.

"We need to get going soon. Dunno 'bout you guys, but I at least wanna get to Cauthess today. I wanna find out what the big guy wants and get this behind us—if he's even there," Gladio said.

"Oh, he's there," Laura said, passing Ignis a plate to dry. "He all but shoved Noctis's nose in his location."

Gladio drained his teacup and leaned over to place it on the counter next to the sink. "Well I'm all set. That's damn good stuff, by the way, like liquid sweet potatoes."

"You think bi luo chun is good, I've got some stuff that's like candied yams, I swear."

"You sure you don't wanna open a tea shop with me when this is over?"

She smiled as she swiped the cup from the counter and dunked it in the soapy water. "I haven't decided what I'm doing after all this yet, but that's a possibility."

Noct's attention zeroed in on the back of Ignis's head to try and gauge his reaction, but he only gave a little hum like he found the information vaguely interesting and kept drying the dishes. He seemed completely unfazed by the possibility that she might leave when this was all over—definitely a casual relationship then. Weird. He didn't figure Specs for the meaningless hookup type, but in watching the way they stood next to each other as they worked, Noct couldn't see even a subtle, Ignis-level hint they were into each other. He didn't get it. They'd been super touchy-feely by Ignis's standards until they'd come to Lestallum, where'd they'd barely spoken to each other until they were suddenly . . . in the kitchen . . ..

It'd probably be for the best if he stopped trying to understand it.

"Hey, why don't we go check out the Disc through those viewer things on the Outlook before we go?" Prompto suggested. "At least see if anything's going on over there."

Ignis turned toward them and tilted his head, rubbing the towel over Gladio's teacup thoughtfully. "It's no substitution for the real thing, but it's a start. Of course, the viewers may not be accessible today."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Today is Archaeaday," he replied as if that was supposed to explain it.

"And?" Noct asked pointedly.

He rolled his eyes a little. "As you _should_ know, each of the days of the week are named after the Six, with the seventh Somnday named in honor of the Founder King. Today is in honor of the Archaean, and as Lestallum considers him their tutelary deity, is considered a holy day."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Noct huffed. Seriously, it was kind of irritating how he always expected everyone to make three leaps of logical reasoning with every sentence in a conversation.

Ignis let out a long breath. "The Pegglar Outlook is used as a site of worship on Archaeaday, as it presents the best view of the Disc, and attendance has soared as of late due to the increased seismic activity."

"So there's gonna be a crowd there all day," Gladio said, squinting and leaning back into his chair.

"Not _all_ day," Laura said, pulling the plug from the sink and turning to them. "Finnegan always complains about having to be out after lunch because it's too hot, and he doesn't get enough business because the people have all moved to the fountains or home to nap."

"Who's Finnegan?" Prompto asked.

"Finnegan Parton. Has a cart on the Outlook. Point is that doesn't leave us much time. Pack anything you've got left lying about, and we'll check out before heading over there."

"Noct?" Ignis asked.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan."

* * *

The air was thick and hot enough to choke him as they stepped out onto the main road that passed by the front of the city. Noct had thought the complicated air circulator thingy in their room hadn't been very effective, but if _this_ was what it felt like outside in the afternoons, he'd obviously been wrong.

"Carnival season's comin' up," Noct overheard a guy saying from within the deep shade of a deserted porch-front café. He held a hand over his brow, squinting between the arches of the old building to see the guy scrubbing down a table with a rag. "We could open shop in Altissia—make a quick gil."

"The likes of us in the middle of all that fanciness and foppery?" replied another man, but Noct didn't see him as they passed. "Not sure how I feel about that."

"Hey!" Prompto said, leaping forward to lean into Noct's field of vision. "While we're on the Outlook, think we could look for Vyv and see if he's got any new assignments for me?"

"Sure. He pays good. Doubt he'll be out right now though, cause damn, this place is hot!" he complained, pulling his t-shirt away from his chest to get some air circulating. "Didn't know we were taking hunts on the plains just to get away from this place every day, Ig."

"And now you know my scheduling is not without reason."

"Just take your shirt off," Gladio said, shrugging his jacket on his shoulders so they flapped breezily against his sides.

Noct shoved him over a couple of steps. "Like you? No way."

"What, too embarrassed to show your scrawny body?" he asked with a teasing grin, straightening his jacket as he recovered his stride.

"Hey, I got muscle! You just . . . can't see it."

It wasn't like he cared about that kinda thing anyway. No way was he willing to spend the hours he wasn't out hunting sweating his ass off like Gladio.

"What's wrong?" Ignis asked in that clipped tone—the one that immediately told Noct that something was definitely very wrong without the other person even having to answer. He turned around to see Laura move away from Ignis and closer to him, her gait suddenly becoming ambling and playful.

"You'll find out in a second," she muttered in a serious tone, completely opposite to the happy-go-lucky skip in her step. "Got a feeling there's no stopping this meeting whatever we do, so we might as well let it happen."

"Huh?"

But even if the Outlook hadn't been mostly deserted, Noct wouldn't've had trouble spotting the guy standing near one of the viewfinders with his back to them. The creepy stranger they'd first met in Galdin might not've been as tall as Gladio, but he was close, and he stuck out all the more because nearly every inch of his skin was covered in multiple layers of ratty, weird looking clothing. How had the guy not died of a heatstroke out here?

He'd dealt with bodyguards enough in his life to know when one considered him in imminent danger—the way they'd match their pace to his, the way they'd angle themselves between him and the perceived threat. And just like in Galdin, Laura obviously considered this guy a danger to him. His first instinct was to dismiss it—the Crownsguard hadn't been prepared for the two real attempts on his life, and all the others since had been false alarms. But then he reminded himself that Laura wasn't Crownsguard; she was a telepathic alien who was typically friendly with strangers, even weird ones.

"What a coincidence!" the stranger exclaimed, spinning to face them with his arms open wide like he'd known them for years. Noct thought he recognized that fake cheer from Laura trying to get little Ignis to trust her in Keycatrich. Was that what he thought of them? Little kids he could make trust him just by acting nice?

Gladio narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I'm not so sure it is."

The stranger's attention locked on Noct with an oily smile. "Aren't nursery rhymes curious things? Like this one—" He spun around to sweep a dramatic hand out toward the Disc. "'—From the deep, the Archaean calls—" He turned around and casually sashayed up to Gladio, smirking a little. "—yet on deaf ears the gods' tongue falls—" His smirk widened when he rolled his head in Prompto's direction. "—the King made to kneel—" He inspected Ignis's face particularly closely, his gaze growing sharp and almost manically interested, before his attention slid to Noct. He smiled like one of the heads of the Old Families would at Citadel functions—overly-indulgent and fake. "—in pain, he crawls."

The stranger held Noct's stare as he finished reciting his little poem, his purplish hair shining oddly in the afternoon light and his tawny gaze glittering with some kinda personal message Noct didn't understand.

"I'm actually doing just fine; thanks for the concern."

If Noct hadn't had so much experience reading Iggy's subtle facial expressions, he might have missed the way the man's eyes widened a fraction.

"Is that so?" he said, turning his head in a slow, almost predatory motion toward Laura that for some unnamable reason sent a chill down Noct's spine. "It must be divine intervention then, what a chilling thrill for you."

So it looked like they weren't the only ones that thought Laura was a god. But how had he figured it out in a few seconds when she'd practically had to tell them after a couple of weeks?

Laura and the stranger went still, staring deeply and meaningfully into each other's eyes, until he whipped his head in Noct's direction again.

"It would be wise to heed the call. Visit the Archaean and hear his plea." With a quick glance at Laura, he added, "Wouldn't _you_ agree, my dear?"

Without waiting for an answer from any of them, he ambled out to the edge of the Outlook. Letting his fingers drift almost lovingly over the stone wall, he let out a sigh before spinning dramatically toward them again, his long coat flaring up a little with the sudden movement.

"I can take you."

Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis all took a step closer to Noct, preparing to gather around and discuss what they were gonna do about this weirdo, but they paused when Ignis looked up at Laura, still standing in the same spot.

"That's a really tempting offer," she drawled, placing her hands behind her back and nonchalantly strolling to the edge of the Outlook. She stopped really, really close to the man and looked out over the wall. "And would you taking us there have any benefit over say . . ." She whipped her head toward the stranger. "—a map? Cause, gotta tell ya, we already got one-a thossssse."

She held out the last word for what was probably the most awkward three seconds in existence before opening her mouth wide, then clicking her teeth shut violently and giving him an almost feral grin.

"Plus—already been there once, got the t-shirt to prove it an' all."

What kind of game was she playing? Was she mocking the creep? If she was trying to win some kinda weirdo contest between the two of them, she was definitely succeeding. The creep inspected her up and down before smiling widely.

"I may not look like much, but I do have _some_ influence to get you inside," the man said, fluttering a hand over his heart as though she'd hurt his feelings.

"That certainly doesn't inspire much confidence, as the area has been blockaded by the Empire," Ignis muttered, squinting at the stranger.

"Oh, but my influence is such that it extends beyond borders and petty disputes. So what say you boys?"

Gladio crossed his arms and glowered in the weirdo's direction. "So—we in? If he can get us past the blockade, might be worth putting up with him."

"I don't know," Noct said doubtfully.

"So . . . we could just . . . take a ride," Prompto suggested.

"But watch our backs," Gladio finished.

"Fair enough," Ignis agreed.

The four of them looked to Laura, who glared up at the stranger before grinning like a nutcase.

"Whaaat?" she asked mockingly. "Traveling with a creepy stranger who happens to always be in the right place at the right time everywhere we go and seems to be inordinately interested in the travel plans he somehow already knows about, thinks you're the King who's been recently reported dead, and wants to take you across Eos out of the goodness of his heart to go and visit a god that's been attacking you, who happens to be located on a new imperial base that we can't get past without his help? Definitely not a trap of any sort! Let's do it!"

She said all this really, really fast in a sing-song voice, tilting her head back and forth between each little pause. She must've had some kind of alien lung capacity, because even speaking really quickly, Noct couldn't see how she'd managed to get it all out in one breath.

"I do so admire your sense of adventure, my dear," the stranger oozed, leaning down to stroke a finger against her cheek, but he had to snatch his hand away as Laura leaned out to bite him, her teeth snapping around empty air. Noct ducked his head, staring down at his boots to hide his smile, while Prompto did his best to turn his violent snort of laughter into a coughing fit.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea," she said almost seductively, leaning toward the stranger with a dark, flirtatious smile.

The stranger coolly raised his eyebrows at her before swishing around toward the parking lot. "I'm not one to stand on ceremony, but such an occasion calls for an introduction. Please, call me 'Ardyn.' Come with me to the car park. That's where I left my automobile."

"Whoa. That's your car?" Prompto asked when he gestured to the faded red convertible parked in the corner—only a couple of spots from the Regalia. "I was thinkin' of getting my own set of wheels someday."

"Yes. She's a dear old thing." Lifting his lips in a secretive smirk, he added more softly, "Quite the vixen as a matter of fact." He trailed his fingers up the white racing stripe on the hood before circling around to the driver's side, casually flicking the decorative red ball now swinging wildly back and forth on the antenna. "Pales next to your Regalia, but she's never let me down. So we take two vehicles—a convoy of sorts. Shall we?"

"Uhh . . . yeah," Noct said like it was obvious. No way were they squeezing six of them into one car, and no way were any of his friends gonna ride with that weirdo.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed—like he was ecstatic they were cooperating with him. "Allow me to do the honor of assigning your driver . . . I choose you!"

Noct leaned back and crossed his arms. No. They weren't gonna start taking orders from this guy. "All yours, Ignis."

"Oh come now," he scoffed, tilting his head toward Ignis and flashing him a knowing leer. "He always drives. Be a friend and let him rest for a change. You drive your car, and I drive mine. With that decided, let us be off."

Okay, what the fuck? Had this guy been _spying_ on them? He opened his mouth to argue, but Laura wrapped her fingers around his bicep and squeezed it tight enough to hurt.

"Don't. Just get in the car."

Noct tossed himself into the front seat and summoned the keys to start the car.

"Wh—"

"Leave the top up," Laura commanded when his hand hovered automatically over the button.

"Fine," he growled, twisting violently at the air conditioner knob instead. "You want to tell us what the hell that was all about? Is that guy following us?"

As he followed "Ardyn" out of the parking lot, Laura answered, "I don't think so. He sticks out in a crowd for me. I would've noticed him following."

"Then how the hell—"

"Rumors of the Crownsguard in the King's car, most likely. But he obviously knows we're more than that."

"Way too convenient to be a coincidence, him being in Galdin and Lestallum," Gladio said, rubbing thoughtfully at his beard. "My reckon he's following us around—maybe outta your head range or something."

"I'll concede that possibility," Laura replied. "But he'd have to be pretty far back. The length of an Insomnian city block. Perhaps a little more."

"But to what end would he be following us?" Ignis asked. "That question bothers me deeply, as does his origin."

"Hard for me to picture that guy in the Empire," Prompto said.

"But it's even harder to imagine him as a Lucian," Gladio retorted.

"His skin color and bone structure appear native Lucian to my eyes, but you would know better than I," Laura said. "Are there any other geographical areas on this world with people of that skin tone?"

"Some of the Galahdians, maybe, but then there's the hair," Gladio said. "And you know there's always exceptions. We had darker and lighter skinned people back home. Just look at Prompto here."

"Ha ha, yeah," Prompto laughed.

Noct turned left onto the main road, cutting off a dark blue Tergum Castli Deville in order to keep up with the creepy old dude. He better not've been trying to lose them. "Could be a dye job."

"Does _that guy_ look like he's much into keeping up grooming habits?" Gladio asked doubtfully.

"Guess you've got a point."

Gladio twisted toward the back seat. "All right. Your turn Princess, you wanna tell us what the nutjob act was back there?"

Noct heard Laura huff a sigh. "Let's start with who he is, and I'll circle around to that. I don't know. I don't know who he is or where he comes from, but he's dangerous, possibly deadly."

"How do you mean? How do you know?" Noct asked, looking in the rearview mirror, but Ignis's stern face leaned into his field of view, and he returned his attention to the road.

"He's immortal. We immortals tend to recognize each other on sight. Something about the look behind the eyes, something indefinable about the flavor of the aura."

"Eww . . . so you've tasted his aura? Whatever that means, sounds nyaasty," Prompto said.

"So does that mean he knows you're immortal too, then?" Gladio asked.

"Yeah, pretty much. His interest in you is piqued even more because I'm with you guys, though it doesn't really matter because he already seems to know everything about you all. I'm the only one he seemed to find surprising when we first met in Galdin."

"Though I'm inclined to agree with you about his being potentially dangerous, his immortality doesn't necessarily implicate him as such. How do we know he isn't a Messenger of one of the Six?" Ignis asked. "Particularly considering that the Archaean is already involved."

"Because his mind is filthy with Starscourge. I didn't know that's what it was when we first met him, but it's unmistakable after than man on the side of the road. He's been infected since the day we met him, and he hasn't succumbed. I can't even get a mental expression off him beyond that black shield in his head."

"And what does that mean for us?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know. It's possible he was infected but is immune for some reason related to his immortality? There are too many questions."

"Can you tell if he's telepathic?" Gladio asked.

"He isn't. I would've known immediately."

"And your strategy behind acting like a madwoman?" Ignis asked. "I must say, even I couldn't discern what you hoped to gain from your tactics. He seems even more interested in you now."

"I have news for you, Ignis, he was going to be interested no matter what I said or did. But the strategy is called a persona, and you can bet his is as fake as mine—so about seventy percent fake, then. People like us have to develop them over the years, for many reasons."

"So how fake are the ones we see of you every day?" Noct asked, probably a little too sharply. As much as he did really consider her a friend, he'd seen her put on and take off too many masks in the month and a half they'd known her, since the first day when she'd started doing the accent switching thing with all the people in Hammerhead. And now that she and Ignis were doing whatever, he wasn't sure which girl was the one he'd taken an interest in—and whether or not she was even real.

Her tone grew frosty as she answered, "That's a far more complex question than you even know, but the short answer is just as fake or real as all of yours are. Or are you telling me you _don't_ try to channel your father when you're afraid, when you feel like everyone's looking to you for answers and you don't know what to do?"

"Laura," Noct heard Iggy chastise in a shocked whisper.

"No, she's right, Specs."

And she _was_ right. The guys had been looking to him more and more to make decisions since they left home, and the truth was he often didn't know better than any of them, especially Ignis. Even Laura didn't just take him by the hand and drag him off places; she expected him to take charge, and it was often scary as hell because he didn't want to be the one responsible when shit went wrong. So here lately, he'd been thinking of his dad when stuff like this came up. What would he have done? Which member of the retinue would he have asked for advice? How would he have acted?

He hadn't thought about it in that way, but his dad was his persona—the mask of the king he had to put on when he was expected to be one. And since Laura was much, much older than all of them and had been through a lot more, she'd probably had to collect dozens over her lifetime.

"Sorry," he said quietly, glancing up in the rearview mirror at her.

Her tone softened. "I told you the night of the Fall—everything you've seen from me has been the truth; I wanted you all to know me. But for this guy? I'm willing to play the mad psychopath for a day."

"Hate to break it to ya, but that's a part you play _every_ day," Gladio said, smirking.

"A badge I'll wear proudly. Thanks, babe," she laughed, reaching forward to punch him on the shoulder. "Anyway, so long as our goals remain the same, I believe he'll continue to help us. The moment our objectives diverge, who knows?"

"And since we don't know what his goals are, we've no way of knowing when he will transform from friend to foe," Ignis added.

"Exactly."

They turned left onto the road that would take them to Cauthess, and even though they'd been seeing these kinda views all week, Noct couldn't help but look out to the rocky ravine on the horizon, its high, jagged walls blocking most of the lower meteor site from view. But that shining silver wave captured his interest even more than the gargantuan arches stretching endlessly over the green and boulder-strewn landscape. As they continued to drive towards it and the sun dropped lower, it caught the orange light reflected it, making it look like a massive flame stretching up to the bright blue sky.

What he wouldn't give to be riding Byrrus out on those fields right now, taking in that sight instead of following after a weird old guy.

A weird old guy who was currently pulling into the Coernix on the side of the road and _not_ parking next to a gas pump.

"What's he doing now?" Ignis asked impatiently, huffing a sigh.

"Dunno." He pulled off the road and in front of the caravan so they wouldn't be in the way.

Gladio opened the door and got out, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. "Better not be stopping for the night. We still got a coupla hours of daylight left."

"Yoo hoo!" Ardyn called from his next to his car, waving toward them. "What say we call it a day here?"

"' _What_ say' we continue on to Cauthess?" Gladio argued.

"Oh, the Archaean's not going anywhere!" he said in the kind of tone adults usually used when they were arguing with little kids. He angled toward the gas station door and opened it, bowing with a flamboyant flourish to let two women inside ahead of him.

Ignis popped his hip out and crossed his arms. "Neither are we, under your stewardship."

"So we make camp . . . _with Ardyn_ ," Prompto said in disbelief.

Noct shook his head and looked back at the group. "Hell no."

"I don't like this," Laura muttered. "He knows too much not to have a purpose for this."

"You said it yourself, didn't you? There's no avoiding this guy." Gladio sighed. "Might as well get the tent up."

But Ardyn was still holding the door open, continually sweeping a hand to gesture them inside. "Oh, I'm afraid I've never really been one for the outdoors. I shall foot the bill, so let us stay at the caravan over yonder. Come."

"I've met some weirdos . . ." Gladio muttered as they reluctantly headed toward the station.

Ignis pressed his lips together. "Yes, and I do hope this is the last time we meet this one."

"Whoa, little harsh there don't ya think? Guy really knew his stuff about nursery rhymes, and he _is_ helping us out," Prompto pointed out, frowning over at Gladio and Ignis.

"As much as I love your trusting nature, Prompto, you need to learn that villains who twirl their moustaches are easy to spot," Laura said. "Those who clothe themselves in good deeds are well-camouflaged."

"You get that from a book or somethin'?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Flanked ahead and behind by Ignis and Laura, Noct stepped into the station and took a look around while Ardyn headed straight for the counter, where a dude sat looking like he was about to faceplant into the register just to relieve the boredom.

Prompto glanced at the two women checking out the snacks aisle and hastily ducked his head to fix his hair. "Yyyyeah, but see?" he said softly, side-eyeing Laura. "If we went by that advice, you might not be here with us."

"True, but that's when you need to apply a fine-honed sense of intuition."

Cheap water globes, magnets, meteor t-shirts, trays and trays of those polished rock beads he'd seen everywhere—none of these places really held much interest to him anymore. They all held the same old stuff, the same weird brand names that reminded him he was worlds away from a home he couldn't go back to.

An empty section of shelving caught his eye, and he shuffled closer to read the sign:

 _Due to recent road closures and embargoes,  
we are SOLD OUT of Ebony Coffee  
for the foreseeable future._

"Oh, crap. They're out," he muttered, his eyes darting around the shop to find Ignis hovering over Ardyn near the counter, a deadly serious expression fixed on his face as he stared unblinkingly at Ardyn's every move.

Gladio sidled up next to him and read the sign, shaking his head slowly and sadly as though someone had died. "Can't let him see this."

"He'd be crushed."

"He's not a caricature," Laura grumbled. "And he's not stupid. He knows that stuff comes from Niflheim and stocked up, remember?"

"Oh . . . yeah, but he'll run out eventually."

"And I'm sure he'll find an alternative and drink it without complaint."

"Who's making all this racket?" came a woman's voice from behind him. Noct turned around to see the crazy, frog-obsessed scientist that had sent them out on their first hunt for the dualhorn.

"Oh, hey, um . . ."

"Sania. Good to see you again," Gladio said, stepping forward and smiling broadly down at her. "What're you doing all the way out here?"

"I may've taught in Insomnia, but I'm Lestallian born and bred. Attended to the University of Accordo just like my granddaddy, you know, 'cept I returned and went hunting for a different kind of treasure."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Research!" she exclaimed, balling her fists in excitement. "From longer nights to earthquakes, there's been a lot of strange phenomena of late. The world's out of whack, and there's no end to the mysteries that want for solving."

"Mysteries like . . . frogs," Noct said doubtfully.

"Yep. You see, red frogs only appeared recently. We don't know what gave rise to the mutation. But this tiny critter could hold the key to the world's mysteries in its webbed feet. I heard tell of sightings of _yellow_ frogs in southern Duscae, which is where I'm headed now."

" _Yellow_ frogs?" Ardyn gasped in mock interest as he joined the little circle they had formed next to the shelf stocked with potions and energy drinks, which Noct found easiest to turn into curatives for some reason. "How very interesting."

She narrowed her dark eyes up at Ardyn and raised a hand to adjust the black frames slipping down her nose. "Yes . . . well, I'd better be going. Science waits for no man . . . or woman! Come and find me if you boys decide to help out."

"Sania, wait," Laura called after her. "Been hearing rumors about Starscourge being the cause of the mutations in the animal population. Might want to look into it."

"Starscourge?" She stopped in the doorway and tilted her head thoughtfully. "A new angle! I'll certainly look into it."

"Interesting theory to be passed along in a place like Lucis," Ardyn mused when Sania had stepped out the door and headed for the mud-spattered Gracchus Rotor parked just outside. "Might a divine revelation have inspired such a scientific leap forward?"

"Just rumor. Are we all rented for the evening?"

"Indeed we are. And might our most talented chef be preparing something special for us this evening?" he asked, his eyes sliding mischievously to Ignis, who frowned.

"I'm afraid you won't find a chef among us. We've relied on Cup Noodles these past weeks."

"What a shame," he simpered, leading them outside toward the caravan. "Fortunately, we happened to have stopped somewhere with acceptable fare. Could you imagine your fate had I lured you to a haven in the wilderness alone?"

No one answered.

"Why, you'd starve, of course! Styrofoam is no nutrition for growing boys such as yourselves."

"Six, he's a creep," Gladio muttered.

But the creep had been right. Just beyond the caravan was a mini-market of food carts selling several dishes from Cleigne, Duscae, and even Cavaugh. Noct sniffed the smoky air hopefully. He wasn't as hungry as he usually was after a day spent hunting, but he could stand to grab a bite. One guy was continuously turning what looked like a cylinder made of chain link fence over a fire. The scarlet peppers inside tumbled over and over one another, their skin slowly beginning to blacken with char as the scent of hot pepper and woodsmoke filled the air. A bunch of the yellow tubes Ignis had picked up in Lestallum hung from the corner of his booth next to a bowl of Cavaughian mangosteen, but Noct wasn't really interested in fruits or vegetables. He made a beeline for the food he recognized, eager to get a taste of home.

"All right!" Prompto cheered, hopping forward to press his hand against the glass case. "Fried rice _and_ dumplings? It's been a minute!"

"Yeah!" Noct agreed.

The two of them ordered at the cart and sat down in the chairs outside the caravan with Gladio and Ignis, who had gone for Lestallian empanadas, beans, and rice. But as soon as Noct bit into the dumplings, he realized he should've known he wouldn't get a real taste of home all the way out here. Nothing tasted right—it was all just . . . different, like the knock-off of a brand name. He sighed and took another bite, this time less enthusiastically.

"Something the matter?" Ignis asked.

"Nah. I'm fine."

"Hmm."

"Aww, is His Highness missing home?" Ardyn asked, scooting his chair uncomfortably close before sitting down, crossing his legs, and leaning back. He pulled a pocket knife from the top of his boot, flicked it open, and twirled it casually around his finger before scraping it almost lovingly over the bright red skin of his apple. His golden eyes flicked up to meet his darkly.

"Uh . . . huh?" Noct asked, forgetting the question.

"Just imagine, my dear," Ardyn exclaimed, glancing up at Laura as she sat down with a skewer of . . . seriously? Roasted mushrooms? "The two of us together again. I thought it would be a cold day in hell before we were reunited. Then again, recent events imply that the end times are wellnigh upon us, nay?" He shot forward in his seat, his hand hovering at Noct's arm. The aroma of sweet apple mixed with a dusty kind of mildew scent washed over him in a wave, making him a little sick. "Oh, but do forgive me for speaking so casually of your recent losses."

Why did it feel like every word out of this guy's mouth was dripping with sarcasm and insincerity?

Noct snatched his arm out of Ardyn's reach. When Laura raised a delicate eyebrow across the moldy plastic table at the two of them, Noct leaned forward and asked, "Wait, you _know_ this guy?"

"Absolutely not," she muttered.

"Aww, why the cold shoulder? Though I can't say I'm surprised, after all that's happened between us. I find this cool indifference of yours more . . . familiar. I must say, however, that newer fire of yours was quite reminiscent of our last union."

"Oh?" she asked animatedly, thunking her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. "Do tell. _Love_ juicy gossip, me."

"Are you certain you wish me to say? It was a rather . . . private moment," he said with a slimy smile, gesturing toward her with his barely-eaten apple like it was an offering to the gods. "Your frigid body reaching out for me, _begging_. Well of course, my talents were better applied to someone whose flame burned a little hotter."

"Mmm, well, I wonder if you've ever had to swallow more than just your words," she purred seductively, "making declarations and presumptions like that."

"Dude," Prompto nudged him from his other side. Noct leaned over to hear him whisper, "Do you have any clue what the hell?"

He shook his head.

He might've understood the concept of a persona, but _this—_ whatever this was—whooshed way over his head. From where he was sitting, it kinda looked like they were flirting, but that edge to their voices, that glimmer in their eyes—they were the only hints that reminded him that these weren't just regular people playing some kind of weird game; these were two immortals wrestling for some sort of dominance. He just wished he knew what for. And it wasn't like Specs was offering up any clues. He was too busy flicking his attention back and forth between the two like he was watching history's most riveting beatball game.

"And who's to say I wouldn't consider that a boon? It wouldn't be the first time I've been _blessed_ by the hallowed seed of the gods, as you well know, my dear."

He dropped the half-eaten apple on the table as though it were nothing more than a prop for whatever play he was putting on. "But we're monopolizing the conversation when we have such . . . fascinating dining companions. For instance—"

The sudden movement of him jerking from his seat made them all twitch, but no one more than Specs, who leapt automatically from his chair. Ardyn paused, his lips creeping up into a knowing smile. "I'm certain you realize that one is not who he appears to be."

"I beg your pardon?" Ignis asked leaning against the camper and crossing his arms.

"Oh no, my dear boy, don't consider that an insult by any means. It's far better for your health that you are but a mere mortal. Still—" His eyes slid to Laura, who had set down her mushrooms and leaned back in her chair, her legs crossed and a polite smile on her face. "The resemblance must be . . . chilling for you."

"You know," she replied, tilting her head thoughtfully up at him, "I honestly don't know how to respond to that one. Sounds as though someone's been away with the fairies for far, far . . . _far_ too long."

The way he nonchalantly sauntered behind Noct made even Gladio tense in his seat a little, but he only stopped at Prompto's other side to gesture grandly. "Merely an observation. But then there's this one." Leaning in close, he reached out with a flourish to graze the back of his hand against Prompto's cheek. "Have we met before?"

"Um . . ." Prompto replied shakily, leaning away from Ardyn's touch. "You mean, before Galdin?"

"Yes. I feel as though I've seen your face many, many times before."

"Uh . . . no?" He laughed nervously. "Guess I just have one of those faces."

"Hmm . . . and yet I wonder . . ."

The rest of the evening continued in the same surreal, creepy way, with Ardyn asking them seemingly casual but strange, almost accusing questions, and each of them taking turns deflecting him, but he always seemed to bring the conversation back to Laura for another round of whatever they were playing at. Maybe it was because of his new relationship with Laura, but Noct thought Ignis seemed especially suspicious of the man, choosing to remain at his post against the caravan wall and glaring off towards the parking lot instead of taking his seat again.

It wasn't like Noct trusted the guy or anything, but Laura deeming him dangerous and Ignis's resulting attitude seemed like an overreaction. Of course Noct didn't trust Prompto's instincts. They might've been best friends, but that guy could be lured into a dark alley by a dude in a trench coat selling fake Wataluxe watches, easy.

But Gladio. He trusted Gladio's opinion, and while Gladio sure as hell wasn't gonna follow the creep right off a cliff, he was comfortable enough to relax a little—at least enough to finish his rice and empanadas and slouch in his chair. He actually seemed to be the most successful in derailing the weird conversations Ardyn was trying to lead them in, since every time he brought up some play made in the last beatball game they watched together, Ardyn would sigh as though instantly bored and begin to pace restlessly back and forth.

The guy was creepy, sure—maybe even a little menacing—and maybe he was immortal. But Laura was her own brand of creepy and also happened to be immortal. What if the Starscourge thing wasn't his fault, just like the wrongness thing that had made them all want to kill her hadn't been Laura's? If they were the kinda guys to make snap judgments about people, she would've ended up beheaded their first day out of the city, and definitely the night Insomnia fell—assuming she would've let them.

Then again, Specs was hardly ever wrong about anything, and the same could be said for Laura. He just didn't know anymore. Whatever was really going on with this guy, it would be best if they just got to the Disc tomorrow and got rid of him.

Choosing bunks that night upped the awkwardness factor by about ten. As the first one to toss on a loose pair of boxers and a t-shirt, Noct hopped in the same top bunk he always did when sleeping in a caravan without a second thought. They were lucky this was one of the six-bunk models and not the four-bunk, like the one at Wiz's. Laura had slept in the barn with Saracchian over Ignis's protests while they'd stayed there, but no way would they separate with this creep around. He wondered who would've ended up taking the floor.

But when Ardyn breezed in through the curtain separating the front from the bunk area and leapt into the lower bunk on the other side fully dressed, Gladio paused. The lower bunk on the opposite side of Noct had always been, according to his claim, the best tactical position for defending him if someone should attack in the middle of the night, so it was the bunk Ignis and Gladio would always fight over the most while Noct would roll his eyes and turn his back to them.

At the unexpected change, Gladio's eyes flickered briefly to Laura, like he was waiting on her to make the next choice. She shrugged, placed a foot on the corner of Ardyn's mattress, and leapt lightly to the bunk above.

"Might as well be the one to volunteer, since I don't think any of _these_ guys wanna sleep with you!" she said with a merry laugh.

While Ignis and Prompto took the beds on the rear wall and Gladio took the bunk beneath his, he looked over to see Laura miming a message to them all: _You sleep; I'll keep watch._

"More's the pity," Ardyn sighed, folding his fingers over his stomach. "Still, I imagine a night spent with you will be a divine experience as well. Hoarfrost does sparkle ever so exquisitely, does it not? Cold, at first, and yet it instantly melts at the first touch of any warm hand."

It took everything Noct had in him not to look over at Ignis to see his reaction to Ardyn's words, but then he remembered Specs was a master of keeping a straight face anyway when the stakes were this high. He kept his eyes trained on Laura and Ardyn as they continued to trade their strange dialogue.

"It would be a miscalculation on your part to make any assumptions," she said significantly, kneeling up on her mattress and reaching down the wall to switch the light off.

"Oh, but I've been around the block, my dear—as have you, I believe. Rumor last had you in Tenebrae—wearing a different face, of course, as is with the nature of your type."

"Dude," Prompto interrupted whatever little game the two of them were playing, and Noct was surprised to hear how upset he sounded. "Did you just call her a slut?"

"I?" Ardyn asked in surprise. "A gentleman would never say such a thing of a lady. I have a, shall we say, everlasting respect for the fairer sex. I'm certain your dear friend is as pure as the driven snow."

No one replied, and even though Noct desperately wanted to beat his pillow into a more comfortable shape, he decided it would be a bad idea, since the oppressive silence would make any sound echo like a gunshot in this little tin can house.

"Really, my dear," Ardyn purred after about ten minutes of silence. Noct flinched a little at the sudden sound. "Do you intend to stay up all night just to watch _me_? I hardly warrant the attention, I assure you."

"I'm a soldier—a bodyguard. It's what I do."

Why had she decided to change her persona so abruptly? Her tone had shifted to become suddenly hard and uncompromising. To anyone who didn't already know her, it sounded like she had multiple personalities.

"Let's not outright lie to one another, shall we?" Ardyn oozed, but there was a sharp edge in his voice that made Noct wonder what nerve Laura had just hit. "You are no more a soldier than I am a man of no consequence."

"Now we're gettin' somewhere," Gladio grunted. "You wanna tell us who you are then?"

"Will our delectable little retainer be admitting to me who she is? I'm positively shivering to know, and it's more than fair. After all, my identity would prove more a surprise to you than hers would be to me."

Laura snorted. "I doubt that."

A shift of the mattress across the way made Noct lean up on his elbow to look. In the dark, he could just barely make out that she had hung her head over the side of the bed, her long hair hanging almost all the way down to where Ardyn lay.

He might not have been able to see her face, but he could hear the crazy grin in her voice as she added, "But if it's my name you want, I'm Laura! Hello!"

"Very well then," Ardyn replied with a long-suffering sigh. "If you won't tell me, then at least leave me some semblance of dramatics, I beg of you."

"I can do that!"

A whoosh whipped through air as she flipped her hair back up. "Mind you, I knew a Chief Dramatist once, and let me just say, things didn't work out so well for him. Actually, that's a bit of an understatement. Anyway! Good evening to you."

"Good night, my dear," he said with another fake sigh. "Mine shan't be as long as yours."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

You really can get the styling gel from the market stall with the creepy kid.

Ernie Sypert really does run the general store in Lestallum, and Finnegan Parton really does sell food on the Outlook. I also didn't make up the idle NPC chatter Noct overheard in this chapter.

Ardyn's car really is of the make Vixen. Usually when I name cars, the make is one of the car companies that are really in game, and the model is what they were based off of in real life.

Sania might not have sent them out for the dualhorn, but I changed it into a joint operation with Dave because.

Wataluxe is a real Insomnian watch brand.


	30. Chapter 30

"Get away! Quickly!" Ignis commanded.

It seemed like nothing good ever happened to them after getting a Royal Arm. They might not have expected to find what was left of the Tomb of the Mystic overlooking the meteor that supplied life to all the outlands—seriously, he was beginning to wonder whether Cor's memory was a sieve—but Gladio couldn't help but think that their luck hadn't changed much when the ground dropped out from underneath Noct's feet just after the phantom sword pierced his chest. The kid who was supposed to embody Gladio's life purpose disappeared in a cloud of pulverized rock, and he didn't even have to think as he leapt off the edge right along with him.

Gladio couldn't remember a time when he didn't know he wasn't gonna be the next Shield to the future King of Lucis—it had been a fact of life crowed in proud, offhanded remarks by both his parents years before his old man had sat him down in that velvet-cushioned chair in front of his intimidatingly enormous desk and told him that any Shield of the proud House Amicitia was expected to earn his place by the future king's side. Gladio had wanted nothing more in life than to meet his dad's expectations, so he'd made it his mission to become the biggest badass motherfucker Insomnia had ever seen, no matter who he had to fight. He'd joined the Junior Crownsguard Officer Training Corps when he was ten and was formally inducted into the Crownsguard at eighteen. He'd sparred with Kingsglaive and mentored under his dad and Cor. Hell, he'd even gotten creative and sought out more casual sparring partners, like the instructors at the best dojo in the city and the street fighters on the south side.

He might not have managed his goal to be the undefeated champion of the entire city, but he'd earned the right to take his oaths and receive the mark of the Shield on his shoulders as his dad before him. It didn't matter that the public saw him as some kinda playboy with anger management issues—they could think what they wanted. He could sweet talk the ladies just as well as a pissed off southie, and all his friends in the Guard and Glaive, at least, knew of his subtler charms. Personas made up who he was to the public—the meat shield, the jock, the empty drum-headed Crownsguard. Sometimes that kinda reputation came in handy, like when that freak had been sauntering around them all last night like some kinda prospective buyer at a shifty used car lot.

But it was the persona of the Shield that followed him wherever he went, which was why he'd had no issues with Laura's explanation the day before, even if her particular flavor of nutjob was beyond any level he'd ever learned. The Shield had been created with elements from every part of his life, but none more so than his dad. That instinct that drove him to dive off a cliff without question or regard for his own life was definitely _all_ his dad.

Gladio couldn't count the number of lessons and lectures he'd gotten in his old man's study—the duties of a Shield, the sacrifice, the balance between brother and protector. He hadn't needed the lectures to understand that balance—he'd acted as Iris's brother and protector since their mom had died. But it wasn't the lectures, or even Iris, that had taught Gladio what it meant to be a Shield. From his life to his death, Clarus Amicitia had set the ultimate standard for the sacrifice that would be necessary in Gladio's own position. Not even blood came before his duty as he'd quietly prepared for his kids' safety and livelihood, knowing he'd be walking into his death at the signing ceremony. Gladio only hoped he could live up to the impossibly long shadow his father had cast.

He wasn't so sure he could. Fate had been particularly rough on House Caelum these past three generations. And because House Amicitia had always prided itself in being the very best on the battlefield in defense of their king, their plights were inextricably bound together.

"Noct! I gotcha!" Gladio squeezed the hand that threatened to slip through his grasp and bared his teeth in a grimace as the weight of Noct's momentum threatened to pull his arm out of its socket. Gods, they'd once been considered, but in the terror behind Noct's eyes, Gladio could only see the little kid he'd helped Ignis raise. Maybe that was why Lucis had stopped worshipping them so devoutly—they'd proven themselves too human over the centuries.

"Come on. Pull yourself up!"

A rocky, scraping sound behind them caught his attention, approaching fast. With one final heave, he dumped Noct onto solid ground and whirled, summoning his sword to defend them from the new threat. But it was only Laura sliding lightly down the steep incline and stepping off at the bottom like she'd just taken the escalator at the mall. He dismissed his sword and grinned at her. Fucking showoff.

"You boys okay?"

"We're good," Noct muttered, staggering to his feet. He brushed his palms on his dust-covered jacket and looked to Laura. "The others?"

"I told Prompto and Ignis to find a safer way down while we take this path." She pointed off to the right, where, if Gladio squinted and used his imagination, a narrow clearing of rocks that might've been deliberate enough to be considered a path wound its way around the cliffside.

"Fine. Let's do it," Noct sighed. "You still feel Titan nearby?"

"Even closer now," she replied as they carefully stepped their way over the cracked and crumbling boulders to the trailhead. "We should be practically right on top of h—"

She stopped and looked past them, her brow furrowing. Gladio felt it too. He halted next to her, searching warily for the source of the sound.

The rumble had started off so low in pitch that Gladio had took it for a Magitek engine approaching from a distance at first. He couldn't locate the source of it, a resounding bass he could feel in his teeth more than hear in his ears, but he realized his senses were way off the mark as it built to a bone-shattering clap of thunder that made his ears pop.

"What the—" Noct shouted, holding his hands to his head. "The ground! Look out!"

What Gladio had thought to be a field of jagged, columnar rock formations stretching out to the horizon in front of them shuddered violently—hardly surprising for as many eosquakes as they'd experienced since coming to Cleigne—but when it began to rise up into the air as though it were a massive mother ship the size of half of Cavaugh, he could only stagger back a few steps and gape in awe.

Gladio had always believed in the Six—how could he not when reports of Shiva's corpse lying stretched out in Niflheim had flooded the news outlets when he was a kid? He remembered it well because it had been Glacierday. Gladio had been almost eleven at the time, and he'd been pissed because all the best Glacierday shows had been cancelled to deliver the reports that hadn't even included pictures or footage. His mom had made the sign of the swords over her heart and sworn on House Amicitia that Niflheim would one day pay for what it had done.

But he had to admit he'd been kinda skeptical about Titan actually living beneath that meteor until the lip of that massive rock raised to reveal the molten eyes of god. The flame of the meteor glowed electric blue directly onto the back of his neck, his right eye pierced with crenulated shards of it. Stone-gray skin that appeared to have formed the roots of the world tightened into a snarl as he spoke in a deep, grating voice that sounded like an eosquake made into sound.

" **ʃo fʊðə βænəʃuv.** "

"Godsdamn. This is the Archaean?" Noct asked in awe. "He's trying to tell us something, but what?"

"Let the trial begin," Laura said in a hard voice, and Gladio looked over to see her glaring up at the god, her eyes filled with a less literal fire than Titan's.

"You speak the divine language?" Noct asked.

She snorted a little and pointed to her head. "Well enough. I've got five billion languages up in here. 'The divine language' is close enough to the roots of a handful of them for me to get the gist. Oddly enough, it appears to be mostly an idiolect based off Terran ancient Greek."

"Oh . . . okay," Noct replied lightly, turning to stare up at the god again. "So, a trial? And then he's gonna help us get the Crystal back?"

"That's my guess. But you need to be careful with contracts like these, Noctis. The terms are often vague, the price high."

Noct's expression hardened. "It's not like the five of us can take down Niflheim ourselves. We don't really have a choice."

"I suppose not."

Gladio knew she didn't approve of the gods for whatever reason, but as he too craned his neck to look into the feral face of divinity, he couldn't help but stand in awe of the big guy's absolute power. His was an obvious kind of power, a show of strength that was easy to see in the straining muscles and teeth bared in effort, not like Laura's more subtle ferocity. Gladio might not have considered himself particularly religious, but he'd been raised on his mom's knee with the stories from the Cosmogony. He'd learned to pay a blood tribute on the Altar of the Bladekeeper right alongside his old man and the King himself. With everyone in Insomnia at least _pretending_ to swear their allegiance to one of the Five, Laura's blatant dislike was a little shocking. Even Gladio felt small and humbled standing as a mere mortal at the feet of the Archaean. How could she not feel that same sense of fragility staring up at a sight like that?

"You gonna tell us what that look's for?" he asked.

Her expression relaxed into a mask of neutrality before she faced him. "I'm sorry. It's not my place to judge your religion. I'll try harder to keep my opinions to myself."

"Not gonna keel over if you say something against the Six. You already made your feelings known about the telepathy thing, and I need to know this kinda stuff so I can do my job. So tell us."

She frowned, glancing first at Noct, who shrugged, then to Gladio.

"Can you imagine if I'd just showed up out of the blue, determined you needed my help, and made you guys or Regis go through a trial? What kind of person would you think I was?"

"We woulda told you to take a hike," Noct chuckled.

"Exactly."

"But this is different. This is part of what the Six are supposed to do," Gladio argued. "This is their world and their Crystal to protect just as much as ours, and just like with the Kings of Yore, we gotta prove ourselves worthy to harness their power."

"Do you? Noctis is the Chosen King, and whether or not he is worthy, I don't see anyone else stepping up to volunteer. I don't think much of immortal beings who walk the planet, claim themselves gods, and force mortals to jump through hoops when this is their world and their responsibility as well."

"So if _that_ guy's not a god, he's . . ."

"Just another species of being—like me, except I didn't set myself up as god somewhere and demand that you worship me."

That was the thing, though. Maybe his mortal view of life was influencing the way he saw things, but another species or not, the four of them couldn't help but see her as anything but a god, even if she didn't approve. She was immortal. She had powers and abilities even their gods didn't. And she could wield those powers without the aid of the Crystal. If that wasn't the definition of divinity, then what was? Gladio wasn't gonna fall down and worship at her feet or anything, but she deserved as much respect as the colossus above their heads—maybe even more, because she had a point about one thing. She _was_ standing down here with them, ready to draw her weapons in Noct's defense the same as the rest of them, with no thought of repayment.

A flash of movement drew his attention. He leapt over a crevasse between two boulders and took several long, unsteady strides to catch up to Noct, who had begun picking his way toward the path.

"Hey, don't rush off on your own, huh?"

"Don't get left behind," Noct shot back.

Great. Now wasn't exactly the best time for him to start pulling the sullen teenager shit again, damn it. He'd been doing so well lately. Gladio side-eyed Laura doubtfully as they rushed to catch up.

"It's the Royal Armiger, I think," she muttered. "Takes more out of him than he lets on. Remember, power always comes at a cost, and the person granting it isn't usually the one to pay."

He hadn't really thought about it quite that way before. Everyone in Insomnia knew of the toll it took on the King to keep the Wall up, even if no one ever talked about it. But the Royal Armiger was never really discussed except in the most dogmatic circles that kept insisting the Caelum line was divine. Reputation at the Citadel itself had reduced the ability to tradition over the generations—handy in a fight, but mostly just part of Noct's heritage. The idea that it had cost the king something to acquire, though . . . King Regis had completed his Bonding of Souls tour long before Gladio had been born, so if he had paid a price, no one but his dad would've known. Maybe that was what all those "support him in times of need" lectures had really been all about.

Gladio sighed and shouldered off his jacket as they made their way up the path. The heat was brutal, rippling its way up from Titan's feet to make him feel lightheaded. He wasn't so sure if what little air circulation he'd gained by going shirtless was worth it, though, as the burn tingling down his right side suggested they were gonna need protection soon or start hurting.

No matter how many times he swiped his arm across his forehead, sweat would drip into his eyes, making it impossible to look up directly into the thin band of light between the rocks to spot the flying bastards attacking them from overhead, Gladio's one weakness. The prehistoric-looking birds swooped and dove down at the three of them, their claws outstretched and the sharp teeth in their beaks bared and snapping. He would leap as high as he could into the air, waiting until the last second to summon his heavy sword to jerk the blade behind their skulls to sever the heads. Landing oddly on his feet after killing the last of this latest flock, the world seemed to spin for a second before he could focus on Noct returning safely to the ground after a warp-kill.

"How the hell does it get this hot?" Noct complained, peeling his soaking t-shirt away from his chest and making a face. "Feels like I'm about to combust."

"Pretty sure the molten lava flowing below our feet and the meteor fire have something to do with it," Laura said lightly, summoning a hand towel. She tossed it at him. "Here—most important item you can carry, ya know."

She held a second towel out to Gladio, and he took it gratefully, wiping his hands and his face dry. But he couldn't keep the scowl from his face as he noted she might've been a little pinker than usual but was mostly powder fucking dry. Sometimes being an alien paid off.

"Thanks," he grunted.

"You guys let me know if you need help, okay? I will if I have to, especially with the others missing."

Her and her godsdamn hunting thing. But they all picked up the slack where the rest of them couldn't, and she was still recovering from his failure to protect Iggy and Noct from the midgardsormr a couple of days ago. He tried not to think about what his old man would've said about that poor performance and smiled down at her.

"We got it for now, but we'll call on ya if stuff starts heatin' up more than it is. Kinda wish we'd get somethin' that could keep these things' feet on the ground. These flying things are killin' me."

She stepped to the side to avoid a sharp protruding rock that looked like a petrified tree and craned her neck to the sky. "They're called dynoaevis, a relative of the daggerquill weak to firearms, daggers, and fire, and the only living flora or fauna I can detect in this entire area, which is actually a bit odd. Even with the heat, you'd think _something_ would be growing here after all these years."

Gladio shook his swimming head and swiped at his face again with the corner of his towel. "Like having Iggy down here with us," he muttered.

"Be nice," she warned.

But he _was_ being nice. Gladio actually enjoyed hanging out with Iggy and Laura during these long walking hunts. He was never thrust into a leadership role with the two of them. For all that he was supposed to have to take over his dad's position as head of Lucis's military operation one day, Gladio preferred the company of peers to charges, casual rapport to royal protocol. He wondered whether those times would be over now that those two were in the middle of their thing. Then again, maybe nothing would change with them trying so hard to pretend they weren't together.

Gladio wasn't clueless like Noct and Prompto. He knew Laura and Iggy had either gotten together or were gonna get together before the phoenix down fever, and he knew they were trying to downplay whatever had resulted in its wake. It was still too soon to tell for sure, but based on how they'd acted yesterday morning, they were doin' a pretty good job of it. But it didn't erase the fact that Gladio had seen that Iggy'd had a pretty big crush on Laura before Lestallum, and Laura, who was probably way more experienced, never seemed like she'd fallen quite as hard for him. While he was pretty sure she could be trusted to handle Ignis with care, he more than owed it to Iggy to say something.

"So . . . about this thing with you and Iggy—"

"I told you yesterday," she interrupted. "I'm not giving you anything he hasn't. He's the more reserved of us, so what you guys know is on him." She pointed an accusing finger and glared up at him. "And don't you dare go pestering him about it, either."

"Hey. We did our ragging and we're done—for now, anyway," he said with a grin, raising his hands in surrender. But he let his voice take on a darker tone as he added, "But you gotta know you've got power over him now. I'm gonna have to step in if you start abusing it."

Noct wasn't particularly subtle about it, but Gladio's eyes flickered in his direction as he slowed up ahead, narrowing the distance between the three of them so he could better hear Laura's response.

"I'd expect nothing less of you," she replied coolly, directing her answer toward the back of Noct's head. "It may not seem like it, but Ignis is the one with all the power here. I realize you're trying to protect him, and I appreciate that, but we've got this."

That was encouraging news, but he wondered how serious it really was then. Iggy wasn't the type just jonesing to get laid, but then even Gladio had his doubts about his feelings for her when he'd showed no reaction at Laura's suggestion that she might leave this world when their mission was over. Whether it was serious or not, Gladio supposed it really wasn't his business until it started affecting their job.

"That's good to hear, but hey," he said with a wink, "whatever you guys got going on, I'm happy for ya."

"Thanks, babe," she let out on a heavy sigh.

"Hey. You okay?" None of them had gotten much sleep last night, but he knew she'd stayed up all night to keep an eye on the creep so that they could get a few winks in. She might not've needed as much as they did, but she wasn't invincible, either.

She grinned maniacally and slapped his arm, the sound of it smacking wetly against his sweaty skin. "Better than you!"

"Damn it," Noct spat from up ahead. "It's a dead end."

He was standing at the edge of a precipice radiating with fumes of volcanic heat that rose into the air on rippling mirages. It almost looked like puddles of water had accumulated at his feet until Gladio and Laura drew closer, where they disappeared into the ether. Gladio searched between the jagged peaks, hoping to find an opening that would lead them outta there—no matter what direction.

"This way," he called out, pointing between two steep inclines, where a narrow ledge led over a steep dropoff. He took a couple of side-steps onto the ledge to test its sturdiness and looked to Noct. "No room for error here."

"Make it quick," Noct snapped. "I just want this over."

Gladio ignored the attitude—for now. He wasn't feeling so hot himself at the situation they'd found themselves in. It wasn't that he was afraid of heights. The problem was that even though he wasn't the undefeated champion of the Glaive and Guard, he'd succeeded in becoming the biggest badass motherfucker in Insomnia. People like him had no business balancing on a ledge that ranged from the length of his foot to half that—especially when it was overlooking a two-thousand-foot drop into a pit of liquid fire that might as well have been Ifrit's fiery asshole after a night spent bingeing on hot chickatrice wings.

But of course when they'd reached the middle, the narrowest part that fucking ledge, the tremors started up again, threatening to vibrate his feet right off the edge as he struggled to keep his center of gravity. He checked on Noct and Laura to make sure they were managing okay behind him. Noct's wide eyes were locked on the pit below, his knuckles turning white as he clutched at the stone behind him. But Laura had gone stiff, staring up at the rock wall in front of them.

"Brace yourselves," she warned. "Looks like he's not going to wait until we catch up with the others."

There wasn't much for him to do, really. His stance was already wide, his heels pushed as far back as they could go, and his grip as firm as it was gonna get on the cliffside. With a thunderous crash that made his ears ring, a hand as big as a Magitek engine slammed through the rock in front of them and reached out for Noct, shooting sharp shards of stone debris to dig into Gladio's skin.

"Agh," he scowled, ducking his head to protect his eyes and gritting his teeth against the sting of shrapnel cutting deep enough to make him bleed.

"Hey! Titan! What's the big idea?" Noct screamed.

"Save it!" Gladio growled, shuffling as quickly as he could to the other side. "Get to solid ground first."

"Faster!" Noct yelled back. The kid was clearly starting to panic. "Just want this to be over."

"Calm down! I'm going as fast as I can."

As he continued to side-step as fast as his suddenly unnecessarily bulky boots would go, Gladio leaned forward a little to look past Noct at Laura. The giant stone hand was still grasping blindly, its focus clearly centered on Noct, but when Laura narrowed her eyes at the fingers mere feet from knocking him off the ledge, they jerked away as though burned.

"That's right," he could hear her mutter. "This one's defended, and this bitch has teeth to fight back. Wanna have a go?"

"Take it easy on the mind games, will ya?" Gladio yelled over the wordless roar echoing over what was left of the shattered mountain. The ground gave another violent shudder, and he gripped the wall more tightly. This ledge wouldn't last much longer. "We don't need you pissing him off any more than he already is."

"He wants my block taken off Noctis's head, and he's LETTING ME KNOW IT," she replied, turning to shout the last part at the retreating hand. But her voice was calm and steady as she looked at Noct. "I'll do it if you want, but not until we've reached the other side."

"Just go! Go, go!"

"Almost there," Gladio said reassuringly, reaching up to grab ahold of the branch of an ancient, petrified tree hanging low over the dropoff. He held out a hand to Noct—a wordless offer of help should he fall. Noct took another shuffling step just as another tremor rocked the unstable mountain. The ridge crumbled beneath his feet.

"Noctis!" Laura cried out, lunging for him, but Gladio got to him first. Disregarding the fact that he would likely lose his footing here in a second, he leaned out and grabbed his arm, swinging him out and over to the clearing of solid stone several yards below. It wouldn't be a cushy landing, but at least he'd done his job correctly for once. Hot damn, if only Cor could've seen _that_ move!

But the branch he was holding onto for leverage creaked as he tried to pull himself back to the wall, then snapped beneath his hand like an arm breaking off a statue. Gladio twisted as his feet slipped off the narrow ledge, but there wasn't a hold solid enough to hold his weight.

So, this was it. At least he'd died doing what he was supposed to do.

His fingers had just caught the ledge his feet had just left when two hands closed around his wrist and squeezed with a strength that seemed impossible for their tiny size. He looked up into Laura's frightened face as she leaned back into the wall with all the counterweight her body couldn't possibly possess.

"I can't—" she grunted, "you're gonna have to—"

He glanced frantically around for a solution. None that were presenting themselves were the best of options.

"Swing me."

"You might not—"

But she didn't finish the thought screaming through his head as well. She might not have enough space or strength to get the momentum he needed to make it—he knew it. She heaved him to the right as he used his free hand and legs to get as much momentum as he could with only a half swing. With a furious roar from the both of them, Laura swung him to the left and let go. For a half a second, he thought he wasn't gonna make it, that he would fall into the pit of lava waiting hundreds of feet below. But as he reached forward, the upper half of his body caught the edge of the clearing with a violent slam, knocking the air out of his gut. He clawed at the dirt and rock as he slowly slid off the edge, until Noct scrambled forward on his hands and knees to grab him under the armpits.

"My turn to save your sorry ass," he grunted, helping to tug Gladio up until they both fell into a sweating, gasping heap. Gladio rolled away and stared sightlessly up at the sky, letting the thrumming in his blood steel his resolve while waiting for the trembling in his hands and lungs to subside. He could do this.

"If that's his welcome, hate to see how he treats intruders," he grumbled as he heard the impact of Laura's feet on the stone next to him. Whether Titan was a god or just another species as Laura claimed, Gladio had to say he was getting kinda tired of being treated like an insect to be squashed, particularly since they were only obeying his summons.

"You wanna talk? So do I," Noct growled, sitting up to fix Titan with a piercing stare before turning to Laura. "Not until we get to him. I don't need him poking at me anymore than he already is."

Time seemed to crawl by as they ducked under stone arches, avoided the lava vents billowing clouds of steam into the suffocating air, and pointedly ignored the ominous rumbling coming from Titan's direction beyond the jagged towers of rock reaching for the sky. But it was Noct's attitude and Gladio's mounting impatience that really made the heat and his woozy head unbearable. Each time Noct lifted his eyes to the sky and scowled, each grumbling complaint about the heat, each scuff of his dragging boots against the gravel, and Gladio would clench his fist at his side in an effort to keep from snapping. Was he the king, or wasn't he? This was the first _real_ test of his strength, the strength they would all depend on if he was to save the world, and he was whining like a fucking crybaby.

Gladio had always looked forward to proving himself to his dad and becoming a Shield—that was, until he'd started training the kid he was supposed to devote his life to. Noct had just turned eleven, and King Regis had decided he wasn't going to recover any more than he had from the attack. The first time he'd knocked the boy to the mat with a swipe of a practice sword and he'd immediately yelled he didn't want to do this anymore was when Gladio had realized what a spoiled little princess he'd inherited. He would've been proud to stand at the side of someone like King Regis in a battle, but the whiny, sniveling, lazy little shit he'd been assigned to was so unlike the King that he wondered if the kid hadn't been switched out at birth.

If it was his job to die for the Prince, then it had become his job to make sure he was worth dying for, and to ensure that Gladio wouldn't have to do something stupid, like jump between him and a fucking sabertusk, to do his job. Noct was gonna learn to be a warrior and take care of himself on the field, too. His additional assignment meant that Gladio always had to be the tough guy, the ass kicker, the growling angry guy. The Shield—his permanent persona.

They'd come a long way since those days. Noct still had a tendency to get his head stuck up his own ass when the going got tough, but he had guts, which was a start. He was proud of how the kid had handled the Fall so far and how he'd been doing in their battles in general. But now that all their role models were gone or elsewhere, that meant that it was now Gladio's responsibility to finally turn the boy into a man, into a king. It wasn't gonna be easy, and not even Iggy could be relied upon, big softie that he was.

The last straw came when Noct staggered dramatically, his hands brushing the ground like he was about to collapse and start crying like a fucking toddler.

"I'm so sick of this endless walking," he moaned.

Gladio didn't so much as glance in Laura's direction as he took two long strides forward and hauled him to his feet by his collar. Weren't they all in the same position? What good would it do for him to lie down and let the future run him over now? Sure, Laura had superhuman abilities, but what about him? Gladio was nothing more or less than just a man, like he was. Maybe Gladio hadn't just experienced a bonding of the souls, but Gladio wasn't the man the entire country was depending on to pull them through this. He was gonna have to dig a little deeper and find the Caelum in himself, or they weren't gonna make it through any of this.

"And I'm sick of your endless whining!"

"Get off my back."

"Are you a man of royal blood, or aren't you?" Gladio demanded, because at that point, he _needed_ to see it, to see something in the kid worth following.

Noct's scowl deepened as he shoved Gladio off him. "Of course I am! I couldn't forget it if I tried. What about it?"

This was the problem, right here. Gladio had never agreed with how Noct had been raised as a kid and not a king—going to public school, living in his own apartment away from the Citadel, having his future prime minister wipe his ass and tuck him in at night. He didn't even know what it meant to be a man of royal blood.

Fear gripped at his throat. If King Regis and his dad hadn't lived through the war, how the ever-living fuck was he supposed to be responsible for keeping Noct alive? Not only Noct—Gladio was now the head of House Amicitia, one of the last noble houses of Lucis. Not only was he responsible for keeping Iris safe, he also had a duty to Jared and Talcott just as Noct did to Gladio and Iggy. He had fuck-all of a clue how he was gonna manage that while he was beating back the dark closing in on them all. For the first time in his life, the true weight of his responsibility weighed heavy on his shoulders, but he swallowed the urge to scream and punch something.

They were all in this mess together. They could do this. _He_ could do this. This was fucking war, and it was time for them all to stop playing and become real soldiers.

"You're not the only one having a tough time. We're all on edge," Gladio reminded him.

Noct wasn't the only one that had been thrust into his destiny. He wasn't the only one to have lost a father in this war. Hell, Clarus had probably died right beside King Regis, just as he should've. But now it was their turn to step up. It was their turn to be their fathers and take their places in history.

"We Amicitia are the kings' sworn Shields. Guard the King with our lives—that's the way it's always been. I've embraced my duty, and I take pride in it." Gladio rested a fist over his chest in fealty, frowning. "When you can't focus, I focus for you. It's my job. So let me do it, all right?"

Noct's attention slid to the ground at his feet. "All right," he sighed.

Gladio had gotten through—he could tell. Usually, a decent kick was all the kid needed to get his ass in gear, a reminder that he wasn't going through this alone.

"Sorry, but I had to get it out." He slapped him on the shoulder and shoved him forward. "Come on."

"Hey, Gladio," Noct said, still not daring to meet his eyes. His voice began to stutter awkwardly. "Y-your dad . . . I'm grateful to him. Y-y-you too."

Gladio gaped at the back of Noct's head for a second before looking over at Laura. She gave him a small, close-lipped smile. Noct and Iggy had been having a lot of squishy little moments lately, but he'd never expected to be included in this recent soul searching of his.

"Just doing our job," Gladio said, but any additional words he may or may not have planned to add were interrupted by Noct's ringing phone.

"Ignis," he answered. After a couple of seconds, he hung it up and jammed it hurriedly into his pocket.

"Got cut off, but it sounds like we're about to have imperial company."

"Fantastic," Laura muttered. "I'll put the kettle on."

Gladio let out a long, quiet breath when the jagged cliffs on either side of them opened up to reveal an outcropping of rock overlooking a massive pit in which the Archaean stood, larger than the Citadel towers despite his body curling with the weight of the burden on his back. A gust of wind blew through the craggy peaks, ruffling his soaked hair and making him breathe a little easier.

"MTs," Noct growled, drawing Gladio's attention to the platoon standing in wait for them near the precipice, right where the three of them would've stood to try and get an audience with the big guy.

"What're we waiting for then?" Gladio grinned at Laura and Noct standing on either side of him. "We've got work to do."

Taking out the platoon was easy with the three of them working as a team, even outnumbered four to one. These models had already become more of a nuisance than an actual threat unless they were overwhelmed, but for some reason, no matter how valuable their target, the Empire never seemed to send more than a handful or two after them.

When the last MT had shorted out in twitching, sparking parts clattering on the rocks, Noct dismissed his favorite sword and faced Laura.

"All right. Think it's safe to take it off now."

She nodded, stepping up to Noct and doing her weird finger thing to his head. A second passed before she pulled her hands away, and Noct immediately bent over double, clutching his temples.

"What the hell is it you want?" he demanded, his face contorting with pain as he tried to look up in Titan's direction. "Quit screwing with my head!"

"Can't you do something?" Gladio asked Laura, but she was already shaking her head. "He's not letting me in on the conversation. I can force my way in to protect him if I need to, but that wouldn't exactly ease the tension between him and us."

But with no indication anything had changed, Noct's face suddenly relaxed, and he straightened, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Looks like he's done talking," he said, shaking his head a little. "Didn't get anything out of him but . . . I dunno, sound."

Had it been an hour earlier, Gladio might have been able to appreciate just how massive Titan's fists were—just how much damage they could do with a single punch. But they'd been poked, prodded, and grabbed at enough for one day, and at that point, he wasn't feeling particularly poetic or admiring. As the curled fingers came hurtling toward them and he prepared to leap at Noct again to tackle him to the ground, Laura shouted at him.

"Gladio, duck!" She slapped a hand to the back of Noct's neck and pushed him down as Gladio threw himself to the gravel at his feet. Gladio was ready to roll in case the big guy decided to slam his hand down on them, but a dusty gust of air whooshed over his bare back as the fist passed them over, coating his sweat in a fine layer of grit.

"Hey guys!" he heard Prompto's voice call out. "Did ya miss us?"

A hand closed around Gladio's and tugged him to his feet. "Come now, Gladio, this is no time to be lying about," Iggy said with a quirk of a smile.

"Just needed a sec to nap. Now I'm rarin' to go."

Iggy's eyes traveled up to the roaring bald colossus standing over them, pulling back his fist to prepare for another strike. His lips parted ever so slightly in a gape. "Good to hear. I see you've made a friend in our absence?"

"Yeah," Laura answered. "Doesn't seem particularly burdened with that meteor if he's got enough energy for this." She turned in a quick circle, inspecting the high ridge that surrounded them on all sides. "And this is just brilliant, we've got more company incoming."

As much as he hated to turn his attention away from the god who seemed to think they were nothing more than pests to be eliminated, he followed her line of sight and spotted six Magitek engines rising from the ridgeline, their dull gray hulls catching the light of the late morning sun.

"Damn," Gladio muttered. "Looks like that kettle you put on is about to boil over."

"And I got more bad news for ya, Princess," Laura added, frowning up at Titan. "This is a trial for you guys, not me. He wants me to sit this out, or he won't play ball."

"You mean we gotta fight that guy ourselves?" Prompto squeaked.

"What can I say?" she said with a rueful smile. "Sometimes ya gotta roll the hard Six. Believe me, I'd be more than happy to kick his ass for you, but you won't get his help that way—if that's even what this trial is about. Go on. I'll take care of the imperials; you handle John Galt over there."

Prompto's face twisted in confusion. "Who is John Galt?"

Laura positively beamed at the question, and when Prompto looked to him for an answer, he shrugged. Gladio figured it was probably one of those alien references he'd never understand.

"Ohhhhh, Prompto. You just made my year, you have _no_ idea. But never mind. We don't have time for a seventy-seven-page rant right now. Get going!"

Their "trial" lasted what felt like hours, and no matter how many times Gladio heaved his sword over his head to cleave into the stone skin, no matter how many link strikes Noct called him in to help with, no matter how many flasks they tossed up at the primal tattooed face, they didn't seem to get anywhere. Gladio's steel felt like lead in his hands, but as he threw himself to the ground for the thousandth time to avoid another swift fist passing through the overlook, he couldn't help but wonder what the point was to this. They might as well have been attacking the Citadel towers with their bare hands.

But for all his size and strength, Titan wasn't hurting them all that much—only wearing them down. It wasn't like Noct could even hope to parry a hand that size in a real fight. He was fucking messing with them, wasting their time, and very few things in this world pissed Gladio off more than wasting his time. So when Iggy and Prompto came up with a plan to team up and use a blizzara spell to freeze the bastard's arm off, Gladio had long reached the point where he was all for it, revered deity or not. The three of them kept the Archaean's free fist distracted while Noct did whatever the hell he did with those magic flasks; then they hurriedly got into position as Noct tossed one to each of them.

They waited for the opportune moment—for Titan to put his fist down long enough for them to make their move.

And waited.

"Not sure how much longer we can dodge this thing!" Prompto yelled, ducking behind a boulder just as the fist swept past, missing him by inches.

"Just be glad we don't have to handle the Empire as well!" Gladio answered, swiping his blade across Titan's path, but he only managed to graze the pinky finger. Six damn, it was getting harder and harder to lift his sword in the air, and the clouds of dust and grit Titan sent flying every time he attacked were making it difficult to see.

"Yeah, it's weird they're kinda helping us," Prompto replied, pointing to the circle of laser-guided harpoon guns surrounding them on the ridgeline—all pointed and firing at Titan.

"They aren't helping us, Prompto," Iggy said on an exasperated sigh. He spun to the side to avoid a giant flicking finger before summoning a polearm and ramming the blade into Titan's fingertip. He twisted the blade with a strained growl as he added, "They're _trying_ to kill the Archaean's Astral body before Noct can receive his blessing."

As Titan's free fist lurched away, Noct sloppily warp-struck down to the ground and rolled to slow his momentum. He pushed himself to his feet and shouted, "He's coming right back. Get ready!"

Those stone fingers aimed for Noct, who leapt back just as they landed with a thunderous crash that made Gladio's teeth rattle in his head.

"Certainly didn't expect this much trouble!" Iggy noted almost cheerfully, burying a polearm into what was hopefully the sensitive stone skin between Titan's thumb and forefinger.

"Do it now!" Noct ordered.

Gladio took aim and hurled his blizzara flask at Titan's forearm. He watched the arc of his throw as three additional flasks joined his, and when they broke against the taut muscle, they exploded in a cloud of snow and frost. A sharp tang, like the inside of an ice machine, filled Gladio's nostrils as the wind grew refreshingly frigid. He shivered a little as the sweat pouring off his skin instantly cooled, but like hell was he gonna tear his eyes away from their victory to summon his jacket after all they'd been through to secure it. He smiled in satisfaction as white crystal fractals spun their way up the god's arm like a spider web. It shattered like glass and crumbled onto the stone ledge, forcing the Archaean to crash helplessly onto his frozen stump with a furious roar and a deafening crack they must've heard clear to Lestallum.

"Hey, we all still here?" Noct called out when the aftershock of sound settled.

"Yep, still here," Gladio said a little smugly.

"If a little battered," Iggy added, brushing ice and stone dust off his jacket.

"So . . . does this mean it's really over?" Prompto asked. "Did we win?"

Before Noct could answer, Titan snarled and began to speak in a deep, booming rumble that vibrated the rocks like a quake.

" **joʊ wɛbɛts jʌʃʌɹ fɛɪ ʊnə bʊm."**

"What is he doing?" Ignis demanded as Noct fell to his knees, clutching his head.

Laura stepped up from behind Gladio, staring up at the writhing, grumbling deity. "He has a message for you. And this is fracking ridiculous. I can understand him just fine. He can just tell _me_!"

"How many languages _do_ you speak?" Iggy asked.

"Don't even ask, Ig," Gladio said. "It'll only depress you."

But anything he might have said in response was drowned out by the horrible, ferocious roar Titan let out—far louder than any communication he'd tried up until that point. Gladio had believed that all the bone-shattering bass they'd endured since they'd gotten to this fucking place had probably caused some permanent hearing loss, but it was nothing compared to that primeval howl. Titan seemed to glow from within, lit up by the weight of his wrath or torment or whatever was making him scream like that, but no—something else was beginning to happen. Golden sparkles were blossoming into existence to swirl over his body like fireflies, leaving glittering trails in their wake. Was he being tortured by some magical outside source?

Gladio had seen similar magic only once in his life—the day Insomnia had fallen.

"What the fuck are you doing, Laura?" he demanded, whipping his head around to stare her down.

She raised her hands. "It's not me!"

Like a hive of killer bees, the golden sparkles grouped together and rushed toward Noct, swallowing him in a cloud of light. He cried out. Gladio leapt forward to knock him out of the cocoon of shimmering magic, but a hand yanked his arm back before he could take another step.

"What the hell?!" He spun to face Laura, who was still clutching his arm, her eyes closed and her expression calm.

"Don't. He's all right. Give it a second."

"Wh—"

"We're finally getting some answers."

"That was . . . Luna," Noct said in surprise, opening his eyes to stare up at the Archaean. "You spoke with her? That's why . . ."

So—it had been _Lunafreya_ who had started this whole process with the Archaean, and now everything made sense. The Cosmogony spoke of Oracles' ability to form covenants with the gods, awakening them from their slumber that they might make the will of mortals known to the divine. The theft of the Crystal must've been enough to incite The Revelation—a process where the King of Lucis was to undergo a series of trials in order to receive the gods' blessing and, by extension, their support. As far as Gladio knew, The Revelation hadn't been initiated since the days of the Founder King and the First Oracle.

And Noct had clearly just earned the Mark of the Archaean. With the gods on their side, perhaps this war wouldn't be hopeless after all.

Titan's heaving body suddenly flashed a blinding gold, shooting out a shuddering wave of energy and sparks to blow the six Magitek engines hovering nearby out of the sky. Their columns of red flame and black smoke dropping below the horizon were the last things Gladio saw before the thunderous cacophony and overwhelming radiance of the godlight forced him to duck his head and cover his ears as best he could. There was one more chest-shattering boom before everything went quiet.

When he was able to open his eyes again, Titan was gone, the meteor he had carried on his back since the War of the Astrals had shattered in flaming pieces at the bottom of the pit.

Laura stepped up next to Gladio and peered over the ledge thoughtfully. A sardonic smile twitched the corner of her lips up.

"What could possibly be funny about this?" Gladio asked hoarsely, his throat raw and dry from dust and dehydration.

"Looks like Atlas . . . finally shrugged."

Gladio looked to Iggy for help, as he was the one most likely to know what the fuck she was talking about, but he only stared at her, frowning.

"Say what now?"

She barked out a laugh. "Blimey! If only I 'ad a pair of sunglasses ta put on right 'bout now!"

Prompto took a step away, his face twisting into an expression that clearly said he was about to drop her off at the nearest hospital to have her checked over for head injuries. "Whaaa?"

Laura laughed merrily, skipping to his side to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Don't ever stop being you, Prom. So, anyone know why he's been holding that meteor up for so long if it's suddenly okay to put it down now?"

"Because he's a giant jackass," Gladio said emphatically, the hours of struggle from their trial still weighing heavy on his limbs.

Noct shrugged. "At least he's a jackass that's on our side now."

Gladio was almost getting used to the world exploding in fire and percussion, so he barely flinched when a volcanic vent set into the ground several feet from them exploded in a burst of blistering lava, shooting sharp spears of molten rock through the air to cut into his bare chest and add to the dried streams of blood from the last burst of shrapnel he'd taken. He grimaced, trying his best to hold his gasp of pain behind his clenched teeth. Just as he hurriedly summoned his jacket to pull it on for some protection, the ground began to heave like an angry ocean in a storm beneath their feet, almost sending him to his knees.

"Time to go!" Laura called out cheerfully, grabbing Noct by the scruff of his t-shirt and dragging him away.

"More Magitek incoming!" Prompto screeched, searching the sky for the source of hum Gladio could only just hear above the rumbling eosquake.

"We'll never make it," Gladio bellowed at her, but he'd already started stepping in her direction anyway because hopeless or not, there was no way in hell he was going down without a fight.

"Not unless we hitch a ride," she retorted, pointing up at the Magitek engine that had just zoomed in to hover over their heads. "We wait for it to get closer, let the troops jump out, and you guys take care of them down here. Noctis and I can warp to the ship and take out the pilots. Sound good?"

"Better than being barbequed," Prompto agreed enthusiastically.

Gladio nodded, summoning his sword and gripping the hilt tightly in his aching fingers. It wasn't like they had any other choice. The only problem was . . .

"Do you even know how to fly one of those?" Iggy asked.

Laura's expression lit up with a knowing smile, her eyes locked on the ship but sparkling with mischief. "Wouldn't be the first time I hopped into a ship and had to take a crash course. Power, pitch, yaw, and roll. Piece of cake."

"Hardly an encouraging sales pitch."

"Whatever," Noct said, watching the craft as it continued to descend over them. "Let's just do this."

But something was wrong as the ship drew within warping range. Laura stiffened at his side, sucking in a quick breath.

"What is it?" Ignis asked.

But she didn't answer as the ship maneuvered into position and the cargo doors slowly opened like a giant mouth preparing to vomit its occupants. The troop of MTs they expected didn't appear over the lip of the door to leap down to them. Instead, a lone, burgundy-headed figure sauntered forward, his worn coat and several layers of moth-eaten scarves blowing wildly in the draft from the aircraft's engines. Even through the haze of heat rippling the air between them, Gladio would recognize that swagger, that weirdass getup, and that hair anywhere.

"Fancy meeting you here!" Ardyn called jovially down to them as though he were greeting them at a royal dinner party. "It occurs to me . . . I never formally introduced myself. Izunia. Ardyn Izunia."

"Imperial Chancellor Izunia?" Ignis demanded.

He spread his arms wide. "At your service. And more importantly, to your aid."

Fuck. Not only had they entangled themselves with a creep that was somehow connected to the Empire, they'd accepted aid from and slept in the same fucking caravan with its _second-in-command_. Why hadn't Iggy recognized the guy? Photos from the Empire were scarce, even in the Lucian news, but surely he'd read the name in reports somewhere? He seemed to know everything else in the world.

And they were gonna have to do it again—accept aid and comfort from their enemy. Gladio could see no other way of getting out of this hellhole in time before the entire place exploded. But how could they trust this guy not to deliver them directly to the Emperor the second they got on that ship? How did they know there wasn't an entire squad of assassins waiting in that cargo hold to execute them the moment they got on board?

Laura said just loudly enough to be heard enough above the engines, "Keep in mind when making your decision that this man was likely involved in planning your father's assassination."

Like they hadn't made that connection.

Ardyn continued in a false reassuring tone, "I guarantee your safe passage. Though you're always welcome to take your chances down there. Buried among the rubble, is it?"

Gladio turned to Ignis, glowering at him for the situation they'd found themselves in. Iggy clenched his fists at his sides, widening his stance to keep from stumbling as another tremor rocked the area.

"Dying here is not an option!" Ignis glared over at Noct, his voice growing quieter and full of regret. "We have no choice, Noct."

As shitty as the situation had become and as much as Gladio didn't want to admit it, he was right. Going with the enemy imperial chancellor ensured their survival for the next couple of minutes, at least, whereas staying here, no matter what Laura thought, spelled certain death. Besides—whether the guy was immortal or not, Gladio was pretty sure the five of them could take him and anyone else he might've had hiding back there.

Noct frowned up at the ship, his expression hardening.

"I know."

* * *

Whatever Iggy and Prompto must've gone through to catch up to the three of them clearly hadn't been as exhausting as what they'd endured. When Gladio was confident that a firing squad wasn't waiting for them in the cargo hold—only two nervous-looking imperials glancing through the cockpit door before slamming it shut—he threw himself to the sheet metal floor across from Noct, letting Ignis and Laura handle guard duty for once. Iggy stood between Ardyn and Noct, as close as he could possibly get to the cargo bay doors, his arms crossed over his chest and a dark expression fixed on his face. Laura's calf brushed against Gladio's knee as she stood sentinel between Gladio and Prompto, completing the defensive formation around the Prince.

The engines screamed as they took off, the floor vibrating uncomfortably under Gladio's tailbone. It kinda sucked—the first time in Gladio's life he'd ever flown, and he was experiencing it at the hands of an enemy. There weren't even any windows he could watch the landscape grow small from.

"Oh, thank the gods I found you boys!" Ardyn said in a faked fretful tone, his body language exposing the lie as he leaned casually against the other side of the rear door.

Iggy pushed his hip out and cocked his head suspiciously. "And what will you do with us now?"

"Why, grant you safe passage—just as I said."

"Pretty generous offer . . . for an imperial," Prompto accused.

A sly smile spread over Ardyn's lips. His voice slipped like oil on water as he said in an overly-musical tone, "Come now. Is it fair to begrudge a man the circumstances of his birth?"

Prompto pushed his lower lip out into a pouting frown, catching himself in his tiptoed crouch as he stumbled when the aircraft presumably reached altitude.

"Well . . . no. I guess not . . ."

"So suspicious, you boys! When I've done nothing but help."

Laura snorted and shook her head, "Yeah, a regular saint, you are."

Gladio watched closely as Ardyn narrowed his eyes, pushed himself off the wall, and sashayed over to her. He almost had to bend over to lean close to her face, tilting his head as he seemed to search for something. When he spoke, his voice wasn't that of the greasy creep—and now politician—Gladio had come to associate him with; it was soft, stripped of its flamboyant cadence.

"Your heart was as cold as ice until it was drawn to flame. Has your burning passion transformed your nature so drastically since last we met? Or was it merely death's chill wind that stoked such an inner fire?"

With the gentlest of flourishes, he reached out to brush the length of her face with the back of his hand as though he were a long-established lover, and to Gladio's surprise, she allowed the contact, looking up at him with that same searching expression. To Gladio's expert eye, everything about their body language told him they were about to close the narrow gap between them for a passionate kiss, and what the ever-living fuck was that about? He understood the usefulness of personas, but what good would it do to pretend to have an affair with an enemy diplomat right in front of the heads of the kingdom she'd pledged herself to? And what about Iggy? He was standing not five feet from them as they hovered on the edge of making out—his arms still crossed and an almost bored expression on his face. Did that mean he'd figured out what her game was? Because Gladio was still at a loss.

Ardyn inched a little closer, gazing into her eyes. "Then again, when the fires of aegis are stoked on love's behalf, one's entire being can be altered, no?" he murmured warmly. "I must say I find the transformation rather stirring."

"You know," she began in the same soft voice, "I'm not a fan of Rand, personally, but it appears to be that kind of day." She smiled sweetly, tenderly, up at him. "Contradictions don't exist. Check your premises."

Ardyn snapped his head away with a disgusted scoff, ambling back to his spot on the other side of the door. "I'd rather you didn't belittle my intelligence, my dear. The tide does not walk upon the land—let alone engage in such a thoroughly mundane occupation as childcare." He spun to face them, his hands spread wide in a grand gesture. "I know! Perhaps the inferno could verify the answers I seek. He was always drawn to you as a moth to flame, the poor unfortunate soul."

They hadn't gotten as much of a chance as Gladio would've liked to discuss what Ardyn's deal was with Laura on the ride over this morning, but he hadn't needed the review like Noct and Prompto had to understand that Ardyn had believed her to be Shiva—probably because he could read her magical aura as well as she could his. Personally, he thought she should roll with it so he'd leave them alone.

From the sound of it, he was threatening to call in Ifrit to verify her identity, but that was an empty threat—they all knew it. No one had seen Ifrit since he'd betrayed humanity in the War of the Astrals. But Ardyn's reasoning wasn't completely farfetched, in Gladio's opinion. Tales of avatars walking the land, hiding among their Messenger bodies while their Astral bodies slumbered, were some of Gladio's favorite bedtime stories as a kid. He remembered dreaming of one day doing a decrepit old man a favor, only to have him transform into Bahamut himself to bless him for his good deed and kind heart. Who was to say Laura wasn't such an avatar if he didn't believe Laura herself?

And it wasn't like there were a lot of immortals to identify on Eos: the gods, the Messengers, the Lucii, Gilgamesh, and now apparently Ardyn. If Laura's magical aura identified her as a god, what other conclusion could Ardyn draw? Aliens were the stuff of fiction on Eos, and from what Gladio had heard of the Tidemother's attitude toward mortals, Ardyn had a point that the most likely option was Shiva—even if the idea of Shiva biting a man was fucking hilarious.

"So, let me get this straight. Ice and water are his only two choices?" Laura asked. She raised an eyebrow and let out a carefree laugh. "Blimey, sounds like either way you look at it, the inferno's screwed, poor sod."

"You needn't fear for your precious flame, my dear. He'll positively blaze under my careful tutelage," Ardyn said, his eyes growing warm and mischievous again. "And, if I am fortunate, I may be able to unite fire and frost."

"Well, I wish you all the best of luck. Now, if you don't mind, we've got some travel plans to make, which I'm sure you already know all about, so if you'll excuse us?"

"But of course," he said, rolling his hand before dipping into a bow.

It was only once Ardyn strolled to the front of the cargo bay and into the cockpit that Iggy and Laura relaxed and kneeled on either side of Gladio.

"Nice going, Ig," Gladio grunted under his breath. "Thought you kept up with the news."

"Yeah—I would've figured you'd recognize his name, at least," Noct agreed. "Not like it's a common one."

"He was only mentioned briefly in reports as Imperial Chancellor Izunia." A crease formed between Iggy's brows as he frowned, looking down at a grate near his feet. "Though that's no excuse. My apologies, all of you."

"Never mind that," Laura snapped. Her face had grown pale, her eyes wide with fear. "I need to know something—right fracking now. Shiva's lover. Who is it?"

"Ifrit," Gladio answered.

"And his element's fire, right?"

He nodded.

Her gaze shifted to the floor, her expression going blank. "Fuego, fuoco, feu, feuer—none with a Latin base," she muttered to herself before leaning forward to look to Ignis on Gladio's other side. "Are you absolutely positive that no one has ever known the meaning of most of those Latin names you guys use around Insomnia? Ever? Even thousands of years ago?"

"I've studied the matter extensively, and the meaning of the words to which I believe you're referring can only be guessed at by their connection to modern-day Lucian words—a project typically only undertaken by enthusiasts—but we've no way of knowing if their meanings have shifted over the millennia or were taken from some other root that doesn't appear in Lucian. I believe my name, for example, is derived from the words 'ignition,' or 'ignite,' and 'science—' curious, given Lucis's history with the subject."

When she didn't respond, he added, "Is everything all right?"

Laura closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Yes. I think so. Even if he did know the language, I would've felt him nearby if he'd . . . Anyway, it's not important. Do we have a plan for when he drops us off?"

"Go get the car," Noct said.

"Right. We can't leave her unattended for long," Iggy agreed.

* * *

True to his word, Ardyn dropped them off safely. The catch that Gladio had been waiting for was that he had dropped them off in the middle of fucking nowhere.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

The basis for the divine language is not actually Ancient Greek. My best guess is that it's nonsense played backwards. There was a rumor going around that it was Sumerian played backwards, but it isn't. Also, don't do anything nuts like try to translate the divine language as I've written it out; it's just a vague representation of what it sort of sounded like Titan said in game written in IPA. I DID think about sticking a hidden message in there or simply writing the English in IPA, but it turns out it's easier for people to read and comprehend than I thought.

Gladio's father is actually the head of the Crownsguard, not the entire Lucian military operation, and he also has a role similar to that of a prime minister. This has been changed, along with the roles Ignis and Gladio are to take in Noct's future council. Ages and timelines when specific things happened in the past are also not canon.

I always thought the game was a little coy about revealing why we were collecting Royal Arms until suddenly we're fighting gods. I'm all for subtlety in storytelling, but such an important plot point probably should have been more explicit. The answer is in the Cosmogony under the entries for The Covenant and The Revelation and used in this story.

It didn't sound to me like Ifrit and Shiva were common knowledge canon-wise in the game (probably because that info was released later and not integrated into the plot from the beginning), but I saw no reason to keep it a secret. It seemed like the kind of myth and legend written about the Greek gods, so it is now in the Cosmogony that Gladio is familiar with.


	31. Chapter 31

Ignis stood poised at the ready alongside the other four, watching the Magitek engine carefully for some last act of treachery until it was no more than a speck in the sky. It was only as they relaxed their stances and exchanged wary glances that Laura spoke.

"Would you guys mind if we take a moment? Ignis and I need to talk."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do," Gladio grunted on a humorless chuckle, waving them away. "You guys talk while we figure out where the hell we are."

Ignis nodded toward the frozen wave of the Disc rising just above the line of the horizon. "Might I suggest you begin with that as orientation? My guess is that we're—"

"Ig. We got this." He nodded toward Laura walking swiftly to a boulder several yards away. "Now go and handle _that_."

Uncertain as to what, precisely, needed to be handled, Ignis turned and followed, his longer stride quickly closing the distance between them until he caught up with her and stepped behind the boulder out of sight from the others.

She appeared to be in pain as she looked up at him. "Hey," she said in a low voice, "You know none of that was real, right?"

 _This_ was what she had called attention to them for? To soothe his potentially chafed pride? While he appreciated her regard for his feelings, the act was unnecessary. He wasn't some jealous, insecure teen. They were _supposed_ to be working right now, not reenacting some banal daytime television show plot.

"Of course I know," he said, allowing an edge of irritation to slip into his tone. "When an enemy puts a sword to one's throat, one has no option but to pull one in return, even if the weapon used isn't of a conventional sort."

"All right. I'm sorry. I just . . . I felt something from you is all, and I wanted to make sure. This . . . well, it's new for us, and you'd no way of knowing I'm not the sort to toy with you like that." She smiled softly, stepping closer to him. "You hid it well, though."

Ignis looked up at the overcast sky and sighed. "Though I cannot pretend I fully understand the games you immortals play, I do understand that it is, in fact, a game—a dangerous one—with the intention of finding his aim. That doesn't mean I will ever enjoy watching you endanger yourself with an unknown foe and no support."

Ignis understood well the concept of using a persona to give off an air contradictory to one's feelings. He couldn't imagine the terror he would have become had he not managed to create a fortress of composure and courtesy to mask the combination of sarcasm and self-doubt that he was beneath the surface—two traits guaranteed to be fatal to any courtier's career. But unlike Laura, and apparently Noct, Ignis had always created his persona from the stronger pieces of himself, never adopted someone else's. To act in a manner so completely contrary to one's true identity was a somewhat foreign concept—one he didn't think he could ever adopt. He tried to imagine for a moment what it would be like to sashay over to a man, threaten to bite him, then imply sexual attraction all within the span of a single day.

No, he couldn't.

"I know," she replied, looking down between them. "It was never a game I was really good at, either. Fortunately, he seems to be young, overly confident, and bound by the limitations of the narrow focus of one planet and its species. Otherwise he would've beaten me by now."

"That's hardly reassuring." A frown tugged at his mouth as he stepped close enough to her that he had to give his disapproving look from beneath his lenses.

"Come now, we've made some progress, haven't we? Even with my doing nothing more than denying his accusations. Have you noticed?"

"Yes. The idea of an Astral, perhaps even Shiva herself, lying to him upset him greatly; there's a history there. Judging by his comments, he was involved in the operation to kill her Astral body twelve years ago, so perhaps then. And he certainly harbors a disdain for being patronized despite it being his most valued tool. If I may offer some advice?"

He wasn't certain she would even be interested in hearing his opinion regarding this high-stakes game, and he couldn't fault her for that. After all, what could he, a child, possibly have to bring to this battle of ancients?

Even though she wasn't currently inside his mind, she seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, as always.

"Don't make that face at me. I told you I was no strategist, and I would welcome any advice you have."

He blinked in surprise. Advisor to the gods was not something he ever thought he'd put on his life's résumé, but then again, the lover of a goddess had never been included in that list, either.

"Speaking in riddles and condescension seems to be where he feels most comfortable. If you apply pressure to those areas which are known weaknesses, you may offend him to the point of forcing a sincere response and revealing something more."

"Patronizing I can do. And he believes I'm lying when I deny being Shiva, so I'll continue with that. As long as I can hold up the veil of mystery, it keeps the focus off you guys."

Ignis leaned back to glance around the edge of the boulder, where he could see in the distance that the other three were still engrossed in studying the map. When he turned back to her, he placed a hand on the side of her neck and ran his thumb along her cheekbone, the only fingertip left bare by his gloves. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he was afraid—afraid for how much interest the Chancellor had shown in her, afraid of the unknown stakes, and afraid for the damage he'd suggested he could do to her, even if he had misidentified her.

"Please, be careful," he murmured into the top of her head, which reeked of sulphur and smoke. "He implied he's done something to Ifrit as well, and if he has such power, then he has the power to do you great harm. Rose, he threatened you."

She stepped even closer into his arms and rested her hands on his chest.

"He threatened Shiva. There's no guarantee whatever he can do will affect me. But I do have one question for you about all this. What made you think I was Shiva all those years ago? Why not anyone else?"

He had confessed an edited account of his experience as a child the day they had walked to the base in Leide, but only that he had believed her to be the Glacian. Determined not to give her the wrong impression, he'd left out how he had spent the rest of his youth studying Messengers, following up on clues from his vision, and offering his silent devotion to Shiva when almost everyone else in the Citadel were devout followers of Bahamut. He closed his eyes, trying to recall to his memory the process of his logic, but the details were just as hazy as they'd been these past twelve years, what little he did remember just as humiliating to relate. This time, however, necessity loosened his reticence and his tongue somewhat.

"At first I thought you were a member of the Royal Family in a very poor disguise. But then, your eyes—" He skimmed the tips of his first two fingers from her temple to her cheek, wishing he didn't have his gloves on. "—the lowlights in your hair, the way your skin seemed to glow suggested something beyond human to my mind."

He pressed his lips together and looked away, idly noting that the thunderhead that had gathered over the Disc of Cauthess was spreading and darkening rapidly. "'Shiva, the Glacian, gentle as snow,' as the Cosmogony reads. You were . . . so very kind and gentle, yet brimming with magic so powerful, even in your weakened condition. I could almost feel it on my skin when you touched me—and still can, now that I know what it is I'm feeling. You were too powerful to merely be a Messenger. I did my research, of course, and determined that you had to be a High Messenger."

"Like an avatar?"

He nodded. "A Messenger chosen by the gods to temporarily or permanently play host to an Astral spirit. The Cosmogony speaks of the twenty-four immortal beings that walk the planet, so we assume that each Astral has four Messengers from which to choose. High Messengers are indistinguishable from their original Messenger form until they 'reveal themselves to the chosen.' You can imagine I've done extensive research on the topic, and that was all I could find. I thought your display of power and the unique properties each time you summoned something was you choosing to reveal yourself to me."

She heaved a sigh and rested her cheek on his chest. "You and Ardyn coming to the same conclusion. But a footprint doesn't look like a boot."

"Well, the Chancellor is likely drawing his conclusions from more reliable evidence than I did."

"That would be my aura, most likely."

"The power of it? I swear even I can feel it sometimes."

She pulled her head back to look at him. "Even when we aren't connected?"

"Yes. It was strongest the day of the Fall and again when you told me about feeling the turn of the planet. It was almost—" He searched for a word that wouldn't upset her. "—awesome. And I don't mean that in the way the others use the word."

She blew a laugh through her nose. "I would never make the mistake of thinking that."

"What is it we're sensing?"

"It's . . . complicated, as always. But the easiest way to explain it in the terms of your world is that I have time magic. I'm bursting with it; it's wound inextricably into my very energy pattern. It's different enough that your Crystal recognizes and despises it—well, despises everything about me—and it's similar enough that corporeals mistake it for the magic of Eos, god magic."

"The gold from the Archaean. The gold from the day Insomnia fell."

"Life, light, and time are the domain of the magic of Eos," she said with a nod. "Titan used the magic of time to show Noctis a vision of the past, but Lunafreya was glowing golden in that vision as well."

"Her particular brand of magic, including her power to heal the scourge, is derived from the power of the gods. May I tell the others of your time magic and its resemblance to the power of the gods? I sense Gladio has already made the connection, the way he shouted at you when he saw it on the Archaean."

"I don't see why not. It was only the moment with Ardyn that I felt needed to be said in private. I'm sorry to put us at the center of attention, but I thought that needed to be made clear as soon as possible."

Agitated though he was for their need for special accommodations already, he did, at least, appreciate her thought to his state of mind. It was one of several attributes that initially attracted him to her in the first place. He let out a breath and forced his emotions to grow calmer. It would take time for them to get to know one another better and perfect the balance that needed to be maintained. How was she to have known that his discomfort on the ship was for her endangering her life and not for a pettier reason?

Even in that moment watching as she had looked up into the Chancellor's gaze, her eyes darting down to his lips ever so briefly in suggestion, Ignis saw that the spark of euphoria and wonder always present when she looked at him had been missing. Ignis had seen for himself the genuine article, making the forgery blatant even at a cursory glance. He hadn't doubted her for a second. He might have recently discovered that a streak of pride and possessiveness ran deep and powerful within him, but he held fast to the idea that he was not the mindlessly jealous sort. His discerning tastes and caution with his emotions had already done the work for him and ensured he had chosen someone with whom he could build something that would endure. They had spent time in one another's minds, in one another's arms, after all, and they had expressed themselves in a medium in which their claims could broker no doubt.

And gods, even with her standing nearly up against him, he missed her at this very moment—the depth of her mind, the warmth of her emotion, the way every object that passed within his sight had been paired with two thoughts instead of one. The stimulation of touch and telepathy was addictive, and he'd found that in each free moment he'd had these past two days, his thoughts would become more and more preoccupied with the memory of his experience.

She was unable to maintain an intimate telepathic connection over more than a few feet without a bond, and as a result, he hadn't communed with her since the morning they'd awoken on the couch together—with his lips at the back of her neck and shins pressing into her heels and everything in between pulled flush against her. Not a single regret was to be found between them, much to both of their relief—a fact that had been sealed when they repeated their performance in the shower, washing the sweat from one another's bodies only to replace it with adoration and pleasure. They had grinned like fools at one another in the mirror, basking in their shared contentment as he'd styled his hair and she had conjured his shaving brush to whip his soap into a lather.

Between the arrival and grilling from the other three and the Chancellor's presence, it was the last time he had dared to so much as look in her direction for any length of time.

Perhaps . . . a _brief_ kiss would be appropriate here. They could then return to the others, and he could inform them that they were in South Duscae, possibly in the Fallgrove or Kettier Highland.

Caressing her face, he skimmed his thumb down the line of her jaw and lightly grasped her chin. He hadn't even begun to apply pressure to lift her face before she was standing on her toes to press her mouth to his. But he'd barely managed to register the sensation of her soft lips before she was pulling away, stepping out of his personal space.

"Noctis is coming," she explained.

"Ah."

He, too, took a slight step back, straightening his lapels and skimming quick fingers through his bangs, though the action was unnecessary. He hadn't believed it possible, but his homemade hair wax had held through the heat from the meteor far better than his old Insomnian product.

It had been his decision to keep the depth of their involvement a secret from the others, even over her gentle objections. For once in his life, he'd wanted to keep something for himself, something that was entirely his own. And though being caught in such a position had been beyond disgraceful, he had endured the requisite humiliation as recompense and was relieved to know that the others knew of the relationship's existence, if not its full extent. He wasn't technically keeping secrets, and he'd been given explicit permission to pursue her in any manner he desired—a gift he didn't feel he deserved but would take nevertheless.

With a final tug to straighten his collar, Ignis turned and stepped out from behind the boulder to see Noct striding toward them.

"Specs? Is your phone dead too?"

Frowning, he pulled out his mobile and pushed the lock button, only to find that the screen remained black. Impossible. His phone's battery couldn't be dead when he had checked to see that it was fully charged as they left the car at Cauthess.

"Yes. Some trick of the Chancellor's?"

"I guess?" He turned to lead them back to the others. "All our phones were good when we got outta the car."

"So here's the situation, best we can figure," Gladio began when they drew close enough to hear him clearly. "We're just west of Kettier Highland. Our best bet for getting transportation is Wiz's—about two or three days' walking. Not a lot of roads between here and there, but you'll remember the outlands aren't big on hitchhikers anyway."

"Walking?" Ignis asked with some alarm. Two or three days without a haven, while possible to survive with their combat skill, would still take a toll on them all after what they had just endured, and Noct had just undergone a revelation _and_ a bonding of the souls in addition to the Disc itself.

"Yeah, it seems _someone_ let the chocobo rental expire while we were in Lestallum," Gladio said with a glare toward Noct, who had suddenly become preoccupied with picking at his bangs. "Closest safe haven is actually south of here, but then we'd just be stranded on a haven anyway. Gotta get to a chocobo rental post."

"Well, there's no point in pointing fingers," Ignis sighed, his eyes catching on the growing thunderheads in the distance. "We are where we are, unfortunately."

"Might as well get started now, then! Eh?" Laura said, clapping her hands together and grinning.

"Indeed," Ignis agreed.

Gladio chuckled a little as they started in the direction of Wiz's—somewhere between a brisk walking pace and a light jog. "Knew you guys getting together would be a pain in the ass."

"So—anyone know any good marching songs?" Laura asked.

" _No_ ," Gladio and Noct cut in before Ignis could answer. They all knew the Crownsguard drill chants, but he was grateful for the interjection, as they had already been subjected once to her dreadful campfire songs. And he preferred that they didn't make noise as they walked through the wild.

Though the terrain was stunning as always—rocky, vibrantly green hills; impossibly tall Duscaean pines swaying in the wind; and the stone arches that formed the outer wings of the Disc defying the laws of physics and stretching across the landscape—he found he couldn't enjoy it. Within an hour of embarking on what should have been a relatively easy hike across the hills, the sky seemed to open up over their heads, lashing sheets of cold rain into their faces and beneath their clothes. Visibility was poor, and the clapping of thunder echoing over the fields made it impossible to hear nearby foes lurking behind boulders or between the tree trunks.

Of which there were suddenly a great number.

The journey that had merely begun as unpleasant became tortuously arduous when, whether through coincidence or some magic of the Chancellor's, their miserable little group was besieged nearly continuously by what seemed every wild animal Duscae had to offer. Hour after hour, they progressed at a painfully slow pace as they were forced to battle against the fauna in addition to the elements. Even Ignis was feeling the heavy weight in his limbs by the time Noctis nearly collapsed in the mud from exhaustion, but with Laura's help and Prompto half-dragging Noct along with him, they managed to make it an additional two hours before Ignis spotted a defensible spot to make camp in a natural hollow formed in a rocky ridge.

Far from their luxurious appointments at the havens, their minimal camp was just as miserable as their hike. Ignis would have preferred to forego meal preparation altogether, but one look at Noct's pale and drawn face before he collapsed on the bare tent floor in his wet clothes saw Ignis rigging a tarp to offer some scant protection over his stove. Though he at least managed to convince the irritable prince to change and eat the simple omelette he'd prepared, he had to say he wasn't terribly surprised to see Laura's face turn a bit green at the sight of the plate he'd made for her. She'd masterfully kept up the pretense of cheer and optimism all afternoon, but he could see it in her eyes—the agony of near-constant death.

"I'm so sorry," she said in a low voice. "I just can't handle that tonight."

"You need to eat something," he entreated, biting down on his rising irritation. Could _something_ today go easily? But at least he fully understood the reason for her sudden lack of appetite this time. Telepathic warfare and killing animals would always make her nauseated no matter how much he wished otherwise. He sighed and set the plate to the side of the stove to give to Gladio.

Laura worried at her lower lip with her teeth for a moment, looking down between them. A prick of guilt nipped at him for nagging her like this, but who knew when they would have the opportunity to stop and eat again?

Silver light flashed between her hands, fading to reveal one of the loaves of bread she'd made in Lestallum. "If you insist, I'll just cut some bread and make toast."

"Please. Allow me." He set down his can of Ebony, took the bread from her, and turned back to the stove.

Even over the relentless rain pounding into the tarp and falling onto the wet rock, he heard her tsk in disapproval. "I don't want to make more work for you."

He dismissed her words with a sharp shake of his head as he sliced into the warm loaf. "It's such a rare opportunity to be put in the position where I'm able to do something for you; kindly allow me to do so without comment."

She leaned in closer, whispering, "Stars, I wish I could kiss that frown off your face, but I need to relieve Gladio on guard duty so he can eat, too."

He couldn't stop himself from smirking a little. "Another time, perhaps."

They'd each taken turns eating while the others beat back the waves of voracious voretooths, and once Ignis had pre-prepped a cold breakfast for them tomorrow morning and packed up the stove, they met at the ravine's mouth to discuss a lookout rotation schedule.

"I just need the three of you to cover me for an hour," Laura said breathlessly, black blood from her last daemonic kill still dripping from the falchions she hadn't put away. "I can take the rest of the night."

"You sure you can handle that?" Gladio asked doubtfully, keeping his attention locked on the dimming field stretched out below them. "Animals might be dropping to sleep, but there've been a helluva lotta daemons in the last hour."

"The area's defensible enough for one person to handle anything that comes along, and if tomorrow is anything like this afternoon, you will all need the full night's rest."

"Just go," Noct said impatiently, gesturing to the tent.

When she nodded and briskly marched away, Ignis tilted his head and raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Perhaps you should join her."

Noct sighed. "I'm fine. The food helped. Just didn't wanna stand here and argue about it. I figure she can yell for us if she can't cut it on her own."

"I agree."

It felt as though no time at all had passed when Laura appeared to relieve them, for each moment in those sixty minutes had ticked by as Ignis and the other three fought for their lives with only miniscule intervals to catch their breaths and recover. Ignis allowed himself a few seconds for his eyes to linger on her face in the indirect light of his travel lamp, turning away swiftly when Noct turned to call back to her, "Seriously—call us if you need to."

It went against his every chivalrous instinct, leaving her alone in the dark with not even a travel light for company, but she had insisted she would do better without one.

They each took turns changing into dry uniforms in the makeshift tarp room Ignis had constructed so they could keep the interior of the tent dry, though it hardly mattered, as even their dependable shelter was beginning to grow damp. As they settled into their usual spots, fully dressed and sans bedding, Gladio spoke above the patters of a deluge on fabric.

"Anyone else think this is a bad idea? We've seen more daemons in the past hour than in the last week."

"I dunno," Noct said, shuffling in an attempt to get more comfortable. "I always got the sense she was holding back with the combat thing, even today."

"And she's got a point," Prompto added. "I mean, we could still see where we landed earlier before the sun went down. At this rate, it's gonna take double what we thought to get to Wiz's."

"It's a necessary evil, I'm afraid," Ignis said with a sigh. "Just be grateful we have a means for handling it."

Following a similar pattern each day and night, it took them seven days to reach Wiz's Chocobo Post, and not for a single moment did the torrential downpour, clashing thunder, or waves of mad animals abate. False attempts to maintain the cheer quickly soured to petty bickering before their first day was out, and even Ignis was beginning to grow more and more weary of the grumbling comments by the second day.

"Should've packed umbrellas or ponchos or something, Specs," Noct whinged as Laura bent over his trouser leg, casting the spell that would keep their clothes dry until they reached their destination.

"Yeah!" Prompto agreed. "Even my rashes have rashes! And my feet are starting to feel kinda funny."

Ignis shivered in his wet clothes and shot a glare at Noct. "Perhaps you might have remembered to bring a raincoat had you packed your own clothes."

"You _packed_ his _suitcase_?" Gladio said incredulously. He lowered his head and shook it slowly. "Too soft."

"What good would it have done to allow him to leave with thirteen t-shirts and no socks? Besides, I don't recall anyone else present offering up a better solution."

"Will you stop encouraging him?" Noct snapped, twisting to glare at Gladio. "He's on my ass enough as it is."

Laura paused in her incantation and yanked on Noct's boot. "Hold still, will you? One false move, and I could suck all the water out of your body." She pointed an accusatory finger up at Prompto. "And you—take a potion right now. Trench foot's no joke."

"Tr-tr-trench f-foot? That sounds bad."

She didn't answer but turned back to Noct's leg, her eyes drooping a little as the power began to flow from her fingertips again. After Prompto had hastily summoned a potion and cracked it, Laura released Noct's leg with a sigh.

"All right. Your turn, Ignis."

"I can wait until you've rested again. And I must insist you take more than a meagre hour this evening."

She frowned up at him. With her hair plastered to her head and droplets of water dripping from the end of her nose, she looked somewhat like a half-drowned waif.

"We won't be stopping for several more hours." She lunged forward, grasping for his trousers. "Don't be stubborn."

" _I'm_ stubborn for thinking of your health?"

"Over your own at a time like this? Yes."

He was about to retort that she had a history of disregarding her own to the detriment of the group, but she had already placed her hands at his shoes and begun her murmuring chant. Not wishing to give her an additional reason to magic the water from his body, he went still and quiet, curiously watching the silver light fall on his clothes as she slowly worked her way upward. Try as he might, he could feel no pain from her power as he had recalled experiencing in his childhood vision, merely an interesting tingling sensation as his skin beneath her work grew blessedly dry.

"There's so many lakes around here," Noct said after a few minutes, turning in a slow circle and inspecting the rolling, rocky hills peppered with churning circles of water. "We'll have to come back when the weather's better."

"And get eaten by voretooths? No thanks," Prompto said. "'Sides, as many daemons as we've been seeing around, I bet even the fish are daemons here."

Ignis shook his head carefully in response to the conversation, but he tensed a little when Laura's hands reached his hips, his instinct compelling him to shy away from her intimate touch in public. With some effort, he managed to maintain a hold of himself beyond an involuntary flinch. She paused to look up at him.

"Sorry," she whispered. "It's particularly important this area stay dry, too. I'm not trying to . . ."

He nodded. How well he knew. Despite his best efforts to keep clean and dry, the chafing had made their miserable situation unbearable, and the _smell_ emanating from all of them inside their mildewy tent hardly added to the experience. Shifting his thoughts away from her work, he addressed Noct.

"There aren't any fish to be found in those, I'm afraid. The map shows these as meteor craters left behind from the Astral War. I speculate these have only begun to fill in the last three days."

"Great."

Ignis resisted the urge to shift his weight as her hands spread wide over his stomach and creeped up his ribs. He frowned at the other three standing nearby, silently daring them to say something about this, but they had already undergone this procedure themselves and seemed to have worked out their more ribald commentary. That wasn't to say Gladio managed to completely hide his smug look.

When another gust of wind ripped past the boulder they were using as cover, he couldn't suppress a violent shudder running down his spine. Laura's hands tightened on either side of his chest, but her low muttering remained constant. He grimaced in misery, his teeth beginning to chatter. Gods, he _despised_ being cold.

"It's really not that cold, Iggy," Prompto said, pointing to his bare arms. "See? Actually, now we're all dry, I'm kinda comfortable."

Gladio smirked in his direction. "He's always been a wuss."

"All of you, hush," Laura interrupted before Ignis could think of a scathing retort. "Trying to concentrate, here."

"Didn't need that much concentration for us," Noct muttered.

Laura ignored him and placed her hands back on his collar, but before she resumed her work, she murmured, "I can do something for that, too."

"Absolutely not," he hissed, taking a small step back before he caught himself and held still. "You've already done more than you should."

"I've already told you putting you to sleep is no burden for me. It requires no energy."

It was true that Ignis never seemed to find rest when they slept in the wild, but the moment he had lain down in that tent on the first night, listening to the screech of daemon, the _whoosh-clang_ of warp-strikes, and the juicy thud of steel in flesh over the deluge pouring over their little cloth shelter, he had known he wouldn't be able to sleep no matter how exhausted he was. Every twenty minutes or so, when the sounds of battle ceased for a moment, he had longed to get up to check on her, but he'd known that irritation would be an understatement for her reaction to his worry. She had pulled him aside briefly after they'd switched off that second night and requested that he allow her to put him to sleep from just outside the tent, and only his near-delirious state after battling hordes and elements on no rest convinced him to acquiesce.

She paused with her palms hovering over his shoulders, her tired eyes pulling down even further at the corners. "I hate seeing you make that face when you're cold and there's something I can do about it."

"I'll be _fine_ ," he growled under his breath. "And don't even think of adding a heating spell without my knowledge."

"I would _never_ do that against your will."

"You already have done once, if you'll recall."

Her stricken expression stabbed at his heart before she ducked her head and resumed chanting, running her hands down his left arm far more gently than he deserved. What on Eos had he been thinking? Had he forgotten to whom he was speaking? She could likely feel the remorse pouring off him, but he waited until she had finished with his left hand and tightened his hold on hers.

"Please," he whispered the second her voice had stopped, "forgive me."

She caressed the bare half of his thumb before letting go and moving to his right shoulder. "You're just tired. We're okay," she said under her breath. But she didn't meet his eyes as she began again.

He would have to think of _some_ way to make up for his poor behavior. Astrals, why did it seem easier to keep a civil tongue in his head when he was speaking with the others, but the moment he and Laura began a private conversation, that silent insolence of his was unleashed? She always seemed to find little ways of telling him that she preferred to see his true self, but _that_ display would hardly earn him any favors.

Another day of forced marching and battle saw the barbed comments receding to resigned silence. Even Laura, clearly exhausted after having sustained a flow of magic for so long to ensure they kept dry, had gone quiet. Ignis found he was grateful for the change, as it allowed him to distract himself from the misery of their current situation and let his mind wander.

Most distracting was reliving his experience that night in Lestallum, which seemed so similar to a fanciful daydream that it pulled him away from the ache in his bones and into the memory of the weight of her mind in his, the warmth of her soft skin creating that delicious friction as they moved together. But though he had already clearly grown addicted to what she made him feel, the way her vast stores of knowledge and wondrous adventures challenged his intellect was just as alluring. He never would have considered himself capable of becoming the victim of a whirlwind romance, but the simple fact was that she was a rare source of pleasure in his life he wasn't willing to relinquish now that he'd gotten a taste of it.

He wanted to keep her—all that remained was to work out the consequences in his head as she had asked. Since he wanted as much with her as he could get, he walked himself through each of her points with the assumption that they would bond.

The permanence of the connection, surprisingly, didn't give him the slightest pause. Commitment didn't frighten him in the least bit, as he had committed himself for life once before on far less information, and even with his resulting added burdens over the years, Ignis held not a single regret in caring for Noct. Laura was both open and forthcoming as to the terms of this scenario; he would be better prepared for the consequences of maintaining this separate set of loyalties.

Would he feel this way about her forever? His rational mind felt this question didn't even need answering, but for the sake of thoroughness, he explored his feelings in greater depth to ensure his sentiments weren't a result of being swept away. Ignis wasn't the sort given to fickle infatuation—on the exceptionally rare occasions he fell in love, whether platonically or now romantically, his feelings ran deeply and permanently without regard to the other person's reciprocation. Convinced he was still acting within the parameters of his typical pattern of behavior, he thought of her feelings. Would _she_ still feel the same for him years from now? He was wary at her seemingly casual agreement to all this—after all, a servant to the Crown was hardly a prize to be won for someone of her status. But her history, or lack thereof, suggested that she considered him more than that. Given that she had immediately forgiven him each time he couldn't quite manage to hold back that temper of his, it was clear that she accepted him for everything he was and wasn't. And like him, she appeared to be judicious with her heart and did not take this matter lightly.

There was no accounting for taste, after all.

It was of no interest to him whether she had a family here, as he had grown used to his solitary existence. Besides, they had the fragile beginnings of their own family right here, possibly more in the future if he found his parents—and given her almost superhuman ability to make friends wherever she went, he doubted they would ever want for company. And for all that that somewhat lonesome feeling had nagged at him his entire life, he was also plagued with the paradoxical desire to be left to his own devices in solitude often—an inclination which Laura surprisingly understood and respected, especially in the mornings.

He was similarly unconcerned for their inability to start their own family. It was true that most noble houses indoctrinated their children from birth to breed and create as many offspring as possible to ensure the continuation of the bloodline. His own absent house was no exception, as his mother had somehow managed to insert more than one less than subtle allusion to his someday having children in the handful of letters she had sent him. Perhaps it was because Ignis had been raised by tutors while simultaneously raising a child himself, but he'd never felt a particular desire to pass on his own genes. For now, he was satisfied with the freedom he'd been given—freedom to explore, freedom to be with Rose, freedom to pursue as much adventure as he could within the bounds of his duty. He realized this was a decision some adults came to regret in their later years, but given the choice between Rose and a non-existent child with a non-existent partner, there was no decision to be made. Should he change his mind in the future, he had no doubt that the war would have unfortunately supplied the population with far too many orphans needing loving homes.

The rest of her points, while valid, did nothing to sway his thoughts from consenting to bond with her. The exposed feeling he'd experienced would no longer be an issue with the greater control a bond brought. They both had their duties and loyalties they had to put before each other, as had already been discussed. He was somewhat aware of some of her past misdeeds, but he also knew her heart; he had seen it all for himself in the throes of death. And it wasn't as though he himself were still the innocent man he'd been when they'd met in the throne room. Her thoughts on his first kill also reminded him that she tended to take the atrocities necessary in war far more dramatically than he, anyway.

He was forced to think selfishly when considering their disparate lifespans, as he had no other choice but to trust her assurance that the pain of his loss was well worth the happiness their life together would bring her. As far as he was concerned, the burden lay completely on her, not on him, in this matter, as he would be guaranteed her company for the rest of his life, and the illusion of their aging together would make the situation seem far less awkward both publicly and privately.

The only point she had made that gave him pause was her comment about the afterlife. No one knew what went on in the great beyond—whether one's soul remained intact after death or was scattered to be reconstituted in another life. He'd thought about it for nearly an entire day and decided that if she was willing to live on for eternity without him, it was only fair that he be willing to make that same sacrifice for her, assuming he was even going to meet anything more than oblivion in death.

Really, everything boiled down to the simple conclusion that after having had her—mentally, physically, and emotionally—he knew in his bones he'd never be satisfied with another. His decision thought out and made firm, he only needed to tell her.

Never in his life did Ignis believe he would be overjoyed to find himself seeing those garish yellow awnings in the distance. The rain had only just slowed to a drizzle as they staggered wet and bedraggled into the yard, where Noct immediately reserved the camper and paid for a seven-day chocobo rental for all of them, but the clouds lying thick and dark on the horizon suggested their reprieve wouldn't last long.

"We need to add this into the budget from now on, Ignis," Noct mumbled wearily, handing the gil over to a concerned-looking Wiz. "I don't wanna get stranded like that ever again."

"I'll see to it. I believe we make enough to afford such an expense."

"Wiz," Laura said, stalling their trek to the caravan, which seemed suddenly interminably far away all the sudden, "we've had a bit of a rough journey, and the one shower just isn't going to cut it for the five of us. Would you mind us using the showers in the employee locker rooms?"

"Don't see why not," Wiz answered, frowning thoughtfully and scratching at the bristly grey sideburn that ran from his hairline down into his beard. "Sent most of 'em home when we stopped gettin' tourists a week ago. Then most all of 'em left to start sandbaggin' their homes. Startin' to flood, ya know. Just me and Camilla here fer now."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Prompto asked.

"Well . . . I got some errands you boys could run, but nothin' pressing. You're on high ground here, and we already done handled the fence across the way teh prevent mudslides from comin' down the mountain. Y'all git cleaned up and rested first. Come and find me when yer ready."

Ignis hardly remembered what happened next—a brief impression of heavenly steamy water and meticulously clean but very old checkered tiles, meeting up with the others for a slow trudge across the yard to the caravan, more cold rain dripping into his damp hair. He had enough presence of mind to instruct everyone to plug in their phones before he found himself standing in the caravan's kitchen, wondering why the others were crowded around the doorway to the back and not choosing bunks and getting down to the business of sleeping.

"I uh . . . forgot this was one of the smaller ones," Prompto said, biting his lip and looking hesitantly back toward them. "Are you gonna sleep in the barn with Saracchian like last time, Laura?"

"Oh, for Astrals' sakes," Ignis huffed impatiently, "after the week we've had, I won't hear of _anyone_ sleeping in the barn, and I certainly won't be taking the floor. Laura and I will share."

Four expressions of varying incredulity stared back at him, and any additional words he hadn't quite yet planned left him in a quiet exhale from his lungs. He looked to Laura for help—damn it all to Ifrit's hell, he just wanted to _sleep_. Laura's surprised look cleared from her face, and she leaned sassily into her hip, crossing her arms and staring the other three down.

"Oh, come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "You all know. We know that you know. You know that we know that you know, and so on. Ignis and I are together. Let's quit this weirdass tiptoeing around and just get it out there."

"Fine," Gladio said, putting his arm around her neck in a headlock and smirking. "Just make sure you're not in hearing range the next time you two decide to play chef and baker, yeah?"

"Please, Gladio, think what you will of me, but does Ignis at least strike you as the exhibitionist sort?"

Ignis straightened and stood stock still as Gladio looked him up and down. He knew this good-natured teasing indicated a casual, friendly rapport, but honestly, he didn't think he would ever understand the practice of humiliation as comedy. It wasn't that he was without a sense of humor, just that his brand of joking often came off as another sentiment entirely—his sarcasm taken as sincerity, his sincerity as sarcasm. He'd had minor successes coming up with the appropriate response over the years, but usually only when the ribbing hadn't focused on him directly.

"I don't know," Gladio mused. "Never can tell with the quiet ones. But you'd know better than anyone. Tell us—is it true what they say about them? Is he a coeurl in the sack?"

Though Gladio was a half a foot taller than he, Ignis straightened his spine further, rising to his full height. He raised his chin and tilted his head a little as he said in the haughtiest tone he could manage, "If you're really so curious to find out, Gladiolus, why don't you try asking me out yourself? Or perhaps your intimidation springs from what I am most certain to answer."

He'd thought he'd gone too far as he stood in the deafening silence, his eyes drifting to the wide-eyed, open-mouthed faces staring at him. This was the issue with joking. Stripped of his persona, he had a tendency to be . . . really, rather rude. He was about to explain himself and apologize when Laura kicked lightly at his house slippers, stilling him.

"Oh, come on, say yes," Laura cajoled. "Just make sure you get something out of the deal—have him buy you a drink first. Hell, for your best material, I'd suggest a meal, at the very least."

Her laughter broke the spell and set Noct and Prompto to chuckling, but Gladio's mouth hung open for another second before he complained, "Shit, no way I could afford his tastes!"

"Yeah, probably too high maintenance for you, anyway, bro," Prompto said, snickering. "Better leave him to Laura."

Noct leaned over to smack Ignis on the arm. "Good one, Specs. The Ueltham whiskey tab alone would set him back a good thousand crowns or more. Dunno how you manage it yourself."

"One need only consume in moderation to occasionally indulge in life's luxuries," he reminded them, guiding Laura past the others to the bunkroom with a gentle touch to her back. He wanted to escape before he said something that would bungle this most recent victory of his or anyone else had any comments to add about tonight's sleeping arrangements.

He could feel all eyes on them as Laura settled on her side facing the wall, and he lay on his back next to her, summoning her blanket to cover the both of them. Choosing to ignore the stares, he closed his eyes.

"Do you . . .?" Laura whispered hesitantly.

"Please," he managed to breathe out on a sigh, already half-asleep.

Warmth flooded him just as he drifted off into his dreams.

* * *

 _"The high commander also stressed the imperial army would continue its recovery efforts in the Crown City and has pledged to help repatriate all Crown City refugees who fled amid the chaos at the Citadel. Though the army continues their search for those reported missing, thus far, no leads have been found. Citizens with information are urged to come forward."_

 _"And now for a traffic update: Imperial blockades continue to impede highway travel in an attempt to apprehend the insurgents behind the Citadel attack, believed to have taken refuge in Duscae. In addition to the north, a new roadblock has been set up along the mountain route in southern Duscae. Interregional travel is now more restricted than ever, with no view as to when normalcy will return."_

Ignis let out a weary sigh, giving his fruit mixture a final stir before taking it off the burner to cool. It appeared as though Lucian media had decided to fully support the Empire's propaganda, even though it seemed a stretch to lay the blame for the attack on the five of them. Given Insomnia's history with the rest of the outlands and how little was known of the Royal Family and their guards, however, he saw no reason why the people should believe otherwise. Those who knew the full truth had no outlet from which to speak; they were fortunate to have earned enough goodwill from well-respected citizens such as Wiz as to not be reported to Lord Ravus the moment they appeared. He couldn't imagine their cover story continued to fool anyone any longer, but he supposed they were less conspicuous now without the car. Perhaps some people truly were so oblivious as to believe they were a simple group of "city folk."

Reporting the blockades was an odd choice, though, in his opinion—almost as though the Empire wanted to appear as though it was doing something yet warning them to avoid the roads, which was easy enough without a vehicle.

 _"In other news, the frequent quakes which rocked the Duscae and Cleigne regions in recent days have finally quieted. In response, the Empire provided the following comment:"_

A hardened, jaded voice Ignis immediately identified as a soldier spoke. _"The cause of the tremors was the_ _Archaean_ _, who had awakened in a fit of rage. The imperial army had already closed the area off for public safety and was surveying the_ _Disc of Cauthess to relieve the region of the increasingly devastating quakes._ _We have taken_ _swift action and laid the unruly giant to rest, thus averting disaster."_

"And the Empire saves the day once again," Ignis muttered under his breath, turning to the sink to wash out the bowl he'd used for the dough. But again, no one in living memory knew of the terms of the Revelation; how could they know their god wasn't dead or a traitor to humanity but had taken up the cause against the very Empire credited with taking him down? Ignis had to say he was shocked at the blatancy of the mistruths presented in the media. It wasn't as though Insomnia hadn't regulated its news, but their efforts had concentrated on withholding negative coverage so as not to incite panic regarding their precarious situation. These bald-faced lies suggested an audacity that Lucis had never possessed.

" _Please note that in the wake of this most recent news, Lestallum has cancelled the Assassin's Festival until further notice."_

" _That's a real shame to hear, Bill. I was looking forward to all the good food!"_

 _"C'mon now—it's not every day a mountain gets up and moves, and the people of Lestallum are understandably devastated at their tutelary deity turning on them so suddenly. It's like the disaster with Shiva all over again! I'm just thankful the Empire was there to make sure no civilians were hurt in both cases, and at least we aren't stuck with an enormous corpse like Ghorovas. Still, you can't help but wonder what happened. The Oracle might've known."_

 _"One look out your window's all the info you need—the rain's comin' down with no sign of stoppin'. First came tremors, and now it's thunderbolts and lightning. If I didn't know better, I'd say the gods were out to get us! Until someone can offer a better explanation, I'm sticking with that. Let's just hope the thunder god doesn't hold a grudge for long."_

With a soft, exasperated snarl, Ignis reached over and slapped the power button on the caravan's ancient radio, silencing the absolute nonsense. All that mattered was their mission. After another couple days' rest, they would run the errands they'd promised for Wiz if they hadn't received any leads on the whereabouts of the Regalia, then head out of the rain into Leide for the Tomb of the Clever, and then possibly research into the whereabouts of the Fulgurian, who was obviously attempting to contact them.

But all this unstructured time out in the wild was clearly making Ignis soft. Despite the full night's rest, weariness still weighed him down like a suffocating blanket. He'd made his call to Cindy and the Marshal while the others had split up the rest of their contacts list in an effort to locate their car, and now he was merely keeping himself occupied with something productive that wouldn't require too much of his concentration. He thought, perhaps, while these finished off baking, he would take the time to catch up on reading through all the magazines and newspapers he'd been collecting since they'd left.

The screech of the rusted screen door being pulled open sounded like a dying bird in the quiet caravan, and he looked up to see Laura shaking the few droplets of rain from her hair that she'd managed to acquire in the short walk from Wiz's covered porch to the caravan.

"How is Lady Iris? Any new leads?"

She shook her head. "Better, now that she knows we aren't dead. Gladio is sending Dustin and Monica out to make sure the reports are true and the car really has been towed from the Disc, but it might be difficult. The state of things in Lestallum and around the Disc are . . . turbulent right now."

"Well, knowing the Empire, I doubt it's still there. Cindy claims to have some rather shady imperial contacts—mercenaries and the like with access to bases and no true allegiance beyond gil—that she intends to ask to keep their eyes peeled. She seems our best bet for locating the Regalia."

Moving back to the stove, he stirred his mixture to check the consistency. It clung to the spoon perfectly when he raised it from the pot, so he pulled the shells out and prepared to fill them.

"What're you doing there? Do you need any help?"

"No, thank you; this is more of a personal project. I found this fruit—the vendor called it a banana—that I thought I would try in this pastry. Have you heard of them?"

That sort of melancholy secret smile that would sometimes cross her face had grown well familiar to him by now. He knew that she was somewhere far away, recalling something or someone that had once been special to her. "Oh yes," she said softly. "Yes, I know bananas. Bananas are good. Excellent source of potassium."

"Mmm, I would appreciate it if you didn't mention that when I present these, but with any luck, they'll be closer to his description."

Pulling out his recipe book, he checked on the latest notes he'd taken of Noct's feedback—the topmost layer of a thousand hastily scribbled-on sticky notes with meandering streams of consciousness and half-baked memories of flavors, textures, and colors that often contradicted one another. Honestly, there was little hope in ever recreating the pastry with Noct's poor recollection, but it was a diverting challenge, at least, to improve upon the last batch with a new ingredient or baking method.

In fact, beyond the happiness his creations brought, that was what he loved most about cooking. He was beginning to realize that what he truly enjoyed was the act of _making_ things—creating new things or improving upon something that already existed. It was an activity he'd never had much time to explore at the Citadel, but now that he was out here, he found he was beginning to legitimately enjoy not only cooking, but finding more effective recipes for soaps, hair products, stain removers, cooking oils, and poisons. Each new concoction he created involved painstaking time and research in order to understand how ingredients combined and interacted with each other, then experimentation to create something better. His newfound hobby was not only a relaxing combination of working with his hands and his mind, it also came with the added benefit of making his day-to-day work easier.

"Closer to what description?"

"This is a sweet Noct sampled during his brief time in Tenebrae that I've been attempting to recreate according to his somewhat vague description for over a decade now. I believe I have the pastry itself down, but _something_ about the filling continues to elude me."

"If he tried the pastry in Tenebrae, it probably contains an ingredient unique to that area."

"Yes, that's most likely the case. I had thought that as well. But, given our limited access to ingredients beyond Lucis, I make do with what I have available."

It was quiet for a moment as he spooned the filling into the shells. Then a memory popped into his head. "It just occurred to me that Noct has sent photos of me with the pastry to Lady Lunafreya. I wonder why she didn't recognize them immediately."

Her expression warmed. "Maybe he didn't ask her for the same reason you didn't just look it up on the internet." When he cocked an eyebrow at her, she added more softly, "You wanted to have this with each other."

A wave of tenderness washed over him for her words. How had he managed to miss that they'd been telling each other for years now?

"By the way, I wanted to thank you for your fortitude this past week—and also for your intervention to ensure my rest." He looked away, closing his eyes briefly. "And . . . what I said that second day . . ."

"You're welcome," she interrupted before he could apologize again. "I'm only sorry I couldn't touch your mind completely from that distance."

"I have missed you so," he gasped the confession to the countertop. "The world seems rendered flat and grey this past week without you."

"Ignis."

It seemed he possessed a certain weakness for her whispering his name like that. Dropping the spoon back into the pot, he turned and seized her head in both his hands, attempting to mimic the way she held hers when she connected them—an implied request. The warmth broke over him the moment their lips met, and he groaned at the dual sensation as his world refracted to include the second set of thoughts and feelings. He let his every thought this past week wash over his surface memory for her: his worry, his love, his responses to her cautions regarding their bonding.

She pulled back abruptly, her mouth falling open in shock. But surely, she must have known he'd been considering _something_ deeply this past week?

"Yes," he confirmed, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek. "I want to bond with you. It may seem a rash decision, but I've always known what I wanted the moment I decided. In fact, my only regrets in life thus far are opportunities I've not taken. My decision is firm. I shall not waver."

"Do you understand what you're saying?" she asked breathlessly. "You'll never quite be of this world if you stay with me. A part of you will always rest among the stars—not quite alien, not quite Eosian."

But he had never felt as though he'd ever belonged anywhere. Undiscouraged, he chuckled. "You say that as though it's a bad thing."

She ducked her head, resting it on his chest. "This is crazy," she laughed giddily. Her joy popped across the surface of their connection like bubbles in a soda. "You're absolutely mad."

"Do you believe someone like me is incapable of being daring?" he asked, only half-seriously.

The effervescent giddiness grew still, and she looked up at him with serious eyes. "You think I don't recognize the soul of an explorer when I see one?"

"I suppose you saw me." He let his voice drop lower. "First time anyone's managed that."

Her reaction was still unfurling in his mind—wonder, incredulity, and when she focused on it, a touch of apprehension. Evidently, she had more of herself to reveal to him still—information only a potential bondmate should know. He pulled away, turning back to the pastries.

"You talk while I work."

"Are you in a rush or something?" she asked amusedly. "You know we can't bond today, right? We need to be alone for the night at least, and in a safe location for a day or two while you get used to it."

That was actually somewhat of a disappointment for him to hear. He'd hoped to do it while they were here at Wiz's, but if they needed a full night alone, he had no idea when the next opportunity would present itself.

She chuckled at his line of thinking.

"I'm certain of your desire to bond with me," he explained. "I should like to do the same for you. For once in my life, I'd like to start living the existence I've chosen for myself. All that stands in our way is the pending discussion as to the process itself and our expectations for our lives together. The sooner we can make a plan, the sooner we'll both feel settled."

Two arms wrapped around his waist from behind. Her hot breath seeped through his shirt as she purred, "I do so love it when you get bossy with me."

"That's rather fortunate," he replied dryly, summoning the ingredients for the cream topping. "Talk."

He heard her sigh as she moved to sit down on the bench across from the front door. His awareness of her mind diminished somewhat at the increased distance, like a thread pulling tighter until it was about to snap. Without a word, he stepped toward the closest end of the counter and resumed his work, relaxing somewhat when the thread holding them together loosened somewhat.

"I'm not exactly alone . . . up here in my head."

He paused for a moment over the bowl, wondering what she could possibly mean by that but not understanding enough to have an opinion.

 _Go on,_ he encouraged.

"There are two types of bonds. A high bond is what you and I would have. We'd be connected constantly through all of time and space, though not dimensions—not that that would ever be an issue, anyway. As I've said before, we'd both maintain our privacy but share anything we like—surface thoughts, deeper memories, images, sensations, visions."

The possibilities behind her statement flitted through his mind rapidly. How much information, how much knowledge would he have access to with such a connection? They could share anything at all across distances, across time itself. Perhaps her knowledge could apply to their world in ways she hadn't yet considered, and with the two of them working in tandem. . . .

"That sounds ideal," he said carefully.

"You have _no_ idea. That's one of the things I'm most looking forward to—the thrill of showing you my memories."

He heard her stand and move to the counter space next to him. Looking over, he watched her summon his spare chef's knife, a scarred but clean wooden cutting board, and the vegetables they would be using for supper that evening. She kept her eyes on her work as she continued.

"The other kind of bond is a low bond. It's more . . . eternal friendship, usually with immortal beings so far beyond humanoid that they'd be difficult for you to relate to. I share such bonds with three entities; one is back in Lliaméra, and two are with me at all times."

Telling him this made her nervous for his reaction—he could feel it vibrating beneath the surface of her words. And with good reason.

"Do you mean to say that our every private moment has been subjected to an audience without my knowledge?"

"No!" she said sharply, dropping her knife on the cutting board and placing a hand on his arm. "One of the entities isn't even aware of the tangible world like that." Her eyes unfocused, and molten veins of gold bled into the blue of her irises like ink on wet paper. When she spoke again, her voice was dream-like, almost silvery with magic. "She drifts among the tides of time—all-seeing, all-knowing, but unable to speak her secrets. She helps when she can."

"Rose? Your aura is visible."

She shook her head, clearing the gold. "It doesn't surprise me. She's what people see in me to call me the Goddess of Time. And that wasn't even fully calling on her."

"And the other entity? They _are_ aware of the world around us?"

"Yes, but he spends most of his time asleep these days unless I call on him for help or guidance. Believe me, he has no interest in my personal life."

As strange and alien as each new revelation of hers was, he couldn't deny that it was part of what made her so extraordinary. He was surprised at how easy it was becoming to simply "roll with it." Even if they both returned to Insomnia and spent the rest of his life there after this was over, there was no doubt that she would always make living an adventure.

"And I would meet these beings when we bond?"

"You would want that?" she asked, a hesitant smile lighting up her eyes a little. "You don't have to, but yes, if you wish."

"They are a part of who you are," he stated simply, wondering why she would believe he wouldn't wish to know everything that made her who she was. "But it would seem you haven't been completely honest with me."

"I wasn't hiding them fro—"

He turned toward her, letting his eyes grow warm and tender. "You do come with a family, after all."

The affection blossoming between them was interrupted by the screech of the door opening again, but when Ignis spun around to see who it was, no one appeared in the doorway. He looked to Laura questioningly, but she only closed her eyes and shook her head, smiling.

"Hey, um, guys?" came Prompto's hesitant voice from just outside the door. After a few seconds, his head poked into the kitchen, his eyes scrunched tight. "Um, Noct wants to know if we're gonna eat soon? We moved to the table out here under the overhang thingy."

"Why are you doing that?" Ignis asked.

"Prom! It's all right! You can open your eyes," Laura laughed.

Prompto grimaced a little and cracked an eye open before fully looking at them both. "Oh. Okay. I was just, you know . . ."

Ignis raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. "You thought we were being inappropriate in here whilst cooking your meal."

"Well, you got a history with kitchens, Iggy!" Gladio called from just outside.

He closed his eyes against the heat rising in his cheeks and muttered, "May the Tidemother wash me away from this very spot. I suppose I deserved that."

* * *

Laura was still asleep when Ignis stirred just before sunrise, and though now was usually the hour for foraging or sparring, he couldn't bring himself to wake her. Secure in the knowledge that the others were also still sleeping, he nuzzled his nose into her hair and inhaled the scent of her shampoo. The heat of her body seeped into his as he skimmed his fingertips lovingly over her bare hip, where her t-shirt had ridden up to expose the waistline of her shorts. He closed his eyes and let the gentle slap of rain on the metal roof hold him in the dreamy space between sleep and awake, content to let a few minutes pass in this stolen moment of quiet serenity. A stirring of desire pulled a deeper breath from his lungs when Laura snuggled back against him, but he flicked the thought away. Who knew when they would have the opportunity to be together again? They were never safely alone, and he was uncertain about the idea of finding somewhere private outdoors.

The thought crossed his mind that he could be more blatant about their need for privacy, but he simply couldn't imagine himself approaching any of the others to even so much as imply it. No—they would simply have to wait and seize the opportunity when it came.

If he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift, he thought he might have felt her acknowledgement of his presence in her mind, a happy trill of greeting rising above a constant fluttering of thought. It was the fluttering that piqued his curiosity, and once he'd returned her sentiment, he attempted to sink lower into her identity to better understand what that restless movement meant.

Flickering images reached out and grabbed a hold of him, yanking him in and holding him in place as they passed over his sight at the speed of light. Of what little his brain was capable of processing, a few he was able to recognize: the faces of the four of them, the back seat of the Regalia, Saracchian, and several Lucian vistas. But the vast majority of what he saw he didn't recognize: a ring of fire that seemed to stretch to infinity, a blue shed, a view of a forest from the back of an enormous silver creature, a pale face with yellow eyes, a blue humanoid feline creature, children dressed in the black robes of academia and laughing, a man with large ears and a leather jacket.

But the gold—the gold that wound its way through her every thought burned him.

The images pressed in on his skull, crushing him, pushing against his chest and making it difficult for him to breathe. With a quiet gasp, he wrenched himself away, the beginnings of a headache already blossoming behind his eyes. Bloody hell, was that what the experience was like stripped of its gentleness? She'd mentioned that he wouldn't be able to safely read something as detailed as an image from her mind without a bond, but then was that what the experience had been like for Noct with the Archaean?

 _Ignis? Are you all right?_ came her drowsy thought, the light in his head brightening ever so slightly as she surfaced from sleep. _I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—_

 _Apologies, I was merely curious. I didn't intend to intrude._

 _It's all right, love._ _You're going to see it all for yourself soon anyway. Is your head all right? I can—_

 _Shh,_ he sent back, brushing his lips against her temple. _I'll be fine._ _Go back to sleep._

He rolled over and sat up, hanging his feet over the side of the bunk to slide into his house slippers, but a flash of movement caught his attention.

Prompto had bolted upright on his bunk the moment Ignis had, still undressed in his t-shirt, boxers, and the soft wristband he always had on when he wasn't wearing gloves. He bit his lip as their eyes silently met across the narrow gap between their beds, and after a moment's pause, he jerked his head in the direction of the front door. Sliding awkwardly off the edge of the bunk, he leapt down and stumbled a step, causing Gladio's soft snore to hitch.

Ignis nodded his understanding and followed him as far as the miniscule water closet that separated the two spaces. He ducked inside, wincing a little as Laura's connection pulled and fizzled into emptiness with the distance placed between them. Sighing, he hastily threw on a pair of comfortable jeans and a soft jumper. He'd be damned if he was going to be caught outside in one of Prompto's daft schemes wearing only pajamas. Noct had almost been eaten by a catoblepas the last time Prompto had risen early and Ignis had been away foraging with Laura. With chocobos possibly involved, who knew where they might end up?

His hair was going to have to remain a lost cause until he found the time to take a shower. He did the best he could with it before heading out the front door, eyeing the coffee maker on the kitchen counter longingly as he passed. The cool morning air slapped at his cheeks as he hurried down the steps, eager to step out of the unwanted cold shower and under the protection of the awning. He took a seat across from Prompto at one of the plastic tables.

"Unusual to see you up so early. Is everything all right?" he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep.

He cleared his throat quietly. He wasn't accustomed to talking in the morning; most everyone was typically asleep at this hour, and even Laura knew not to speak to him until he'd gotten at least halfway through his first cup of coffee, else he had the tendency to come off as a tad biting. Though the pain from his clumsy foray into telepathy was still throbbing behind his eyes and adding to an already trying time of day for him, he was feeling particularly patient after taking his moment with Laura this morning.

Until Prompto began to speak.

"Pfft, yeah! Everything's totally cool. Just, you know, chillin'. It's just . . ." He ran his hands through his bird's nest of morning bedhead, shaking the table with his bouncing leg. "Oh man, I dunno how to ask you this."

Ignis took one look at the bulging eyes locked on the table surface and closed his own in exasperation. Astrals, he wished they were in the kitchen right now. This time of day was made for nothing other than caffeine, and either tea or coffee was best for soothing the ills of anyone upset.

But he had a feeling he knew what this was about. Laura. This had to be about Laura, somehow.

"May I suggest the direct approach?" he asked, careful to keep his tone even and patient.

"I um . . . know we tease you about her, but seriously . . . how'd you do it?"

"I'm afraid I'm uncertain of what you're asking."

"You know . . . she's all . . . pretty and amazing and stuff." He grimaced and rubbed at the back of his neck. "How do you get a girl like that to notice you? I mean, you got skills and stuff—Crownsguard and all that training you had at the Citadel, and yeah. And you're really smart. But I was . . . maybe kinda hoping for some tips I could use myself?"

When Ignis remained silent, Prompto continued, looking up suddenly and waving his hands in the air. "I'm not trying to humiliate you! I swear. It's just . . . I've got my eye on someone, and I don't even know how to start with her, you know?"

Ignis cocked his head, inspecting Prompto's expression suspiciously. But he seemed sincere, and Ignis never could turn down anyone asking for help, even if he'd rather not speak of his experience with Laura to anyone. He really had no idea what to say. Thinking back, he could hardly see how any success was due to skill or strategy on his part.

He sighed. "Honestly, Prompto, I haven't a clue. It just happened, despite my ineptitude. Fortunately, Laura was willing to overlook my clumsiness and pursue me, but I assure you, my success has had much more to do with my good fortune."

"Oh," Prompto said, growing still and frowning. "That's not gonna help me much."

"No, I fear I'm a bit of a disappointment. I will say this much—be yourself. If she doesn't return your affections, then you know to move on."

"Yeah, but being myself has always been kinda the problem," he mumbled into his lap.

Ignis let his eyes wander over the chocobo yard, taking in the piles of soaking straw, the empty tie-out stalls, and the wooden posts black with rain. A weak point of light on the horizon was brightening the thick layer of slate-colored clouds, making the jagged mountain edges and curved arches appear hazy in the thick mist. He found it somehow beautifully melancholic.

"I always thought the same, at least in the realms of romance," he said softly, still caught halfway between the conversation and the gloomy view.

"Really? But you're so . . . I dunno. Capable. Seems like you'd be good at anything you set your mind to."

"Mmm, I assure you, that isn't the case. When I couldn't foresee myself exceling at it, I decided to ignore the matter entirely. I had more important duties, after all. But I'm beginning to wonder whether this entire ritual isn't fraught with doubt and misery, at least in the beginning, no matter who you are."

"Huh. Never thought of you as doubting much of anything." He chuckled awkwardly and drummed on the table loudly enough to pull Ignis fully back to the conversation. "Anyway, sorry for getting all up in your biznas."

Ignis felt a stab of pity for him. Though it seemed Prompto's head could be turned by any attractive woman who happened to be nearby, his thoughts always returned to Cindy. Personally, Ignis didn't believe Prompto had a chance, but who was he to judge? He'd been in a nearly identical situation scant weeks ago and was now waking up to a beautiful, kind woman inside his head every morning.

Surely, there must be something he could offer—something of use. Then he remembered.

"Oh, and Prompto?"

"Yeah?"

"Laura mentioned that Cindy was a hobbyist engineer, of sorts. Perhaps next time we're in Hammerhead, you could try to engage her in discussion about her work? Ask her what sorts of projects she's working on."

"Oh, ha ha. So you knew who I was talkin' about, huh?" He winced. "Yeah, guess it was kinda obvious. But that's a really good idea. Thanks, Ig."

"The pleasure is mine. I only hope it helps."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

The radio dialogue has been minorly edited to be cut down and also to fit the non-canon parts of my lore.


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Notes:**

Warning: NSFW content in the first half of this chapter.

* * *

 _Squeak! Squeak squeaky squeak! SQUEAK!_

"Hey, Iggy!"

Laura leaned back in the grass, looking around the trunk of the pine Ignis was sitting against to locate the irritated voice's source. Several trees over, she spotted Noctis, somehow able to sleep through Byrrus's brutal assault on a neon-green tube with ears and a tail, which was somehow supposed to resemble a dog, according to Prompto. The unfortunate rubber creature squealed for its life again as Byrrus viciously beaked at its nose in an attempt to tear its face off.

"Yes?" Ignis called back.

A flurry of white feathers darted out from behind a tree near where Gladio's stormy mind was brewing, and a screech momentarily drowned out Byrrus's incessant squeaking to echo through the forest.

"Six, damn it!" Gladio ground out as Laura lost sight of Calima's tailfeathers behind another tree. "Will you stop messin' around with that godsdamn saddle and control this godsdamn bird of yours?"

"Is she eating your book?"

"YES!"

A sparkle lit up Ignis's eyes as he looked up from the saddle on the ground in front of him and smirked at her. It was good to see that mischievous side resurface after the tension and exhaustion of their forced march across southern Duscae. She smiled at him. "I'm afraid she's acquired a taste for paper. Just don't give her any."

"She's your bird! Get over here and handle it!"

"As I recall when Kaze decided to nick the daggerquill breast I had laid out for supper, 'your thing, your problem.' And honestly, I'm more concerned for your cannibalistic creature than for my Calima. Shredding paper is a nesting instinct."

"Oh yeah?!" Prompto shrieked just as Calima and Gladio's spat reached a new volume, and Laura had to wince at just how much _sound_ they were all making. "What instinct is throwing a person outta the saddle instead of just jumping over a log?"

"Quit your whining," Gladio grumbled.

He leaned up on his elbows, dropping his phone to the grass in the process. "My ass'll never be the same! D'ya hear? I'll never be able to sit again!"

"Yeah, bet that's gonna leave one helluva bruise," Gladio teased.

Ignis shook his head, leaning over the saddle's seat to finish buffing out the thin layer of leather conditioner he'd just finished applying. "It appears as though someone's behind in his riding skills," he muttered under his breath in a sing-song voice.

"Whaddya keep scrubbin' that thing down for, anyway, Ig?" Gladio asked. "You tryin' to work out frustrations in other parts of your life?"

Ignis frowned down at his work, the color of his mind billowing into a deep mahogany with sincere offense at the allusion to his sex life. "A saddle is a very personal thing. It must be broken in by both the mount and rider, and to do that, it must be cared for properly."

Laura had dug her fingertips deeper into Saracchian's crest, searching for the base of the pinfeather she was working on, but at Ignis's words, she paused, recalling a similar man once saying almost the exact same thing to her.

"What is it?" he asked, the mahogany dissipating on seeing her expression. She dropped her attention to the glossy black feathers in her lap, distracting herself from memories by admiring the green and blue iridescence in Saracchian's plumage where the light hit.

"Nothing. It's just that . . . sometimes you remind me so much of Jean-Luc."

Perhaps, had he been younger when they'd met, Jean-Luc would have found her more whimsical nature attractive as Ignis seemed to rather than merely tolerant. Yet even though they had never been more than close friends, she had always found that British stoicism and flourish of French sophistication attractive about him. Ignis would have made a fantastic starship captain, she thought—principled, quietly passionate, intensely curious, but not without a spine of steel that inspired his subordinates to freely pledge their loyalty and made his enemies know better than to try his seemingly limitless patience. Ignis had believed she'd thought he couldn't be daring? Laura knew there was certainly no one in this group who could be more so than he under the right circumstances.

"You ask me, Laura's got the biggest problem," Gladio said. "Happen to be stuck without a car in the middle of an apocalyptic rainstorm, and that animal's gotta throw itself into every. single. godsdamn. puddle we pass."

"You leave him alone," she warned.

"You can hardly fault the bird for his hygiene being better than yours," Ignis said, but his eyes slid to hers, and he added more softly, "Though, he has a point. I'll concede you've done well by him, better than I ever believed possible, but that creature is a menace."

"It's just because he's molting right now," she cooed to the top of Saracchian's head, sending him warm waves of fondness. "It'll pass."

Saracchian had done far better than even Laura had expected him to this past week, honestly. The darkness of his past still hovered over his mind like a storm cloud, making him flinch when he found himself too suddenly in bright light, heard loud noises, or approached any large moving objects. But in a more closely-knit flock dynamic, he'd proven himself a loyal, fierce, and protective friend in their company. Not only did he always come when called—even on the brightest of days—he also remained to defend them when smaller enemies appeared. Sensing his mistress's closeness to Ignis, he had taken to demanding affection from him by stepping directly into his path and lowering his head in silent insistence for head scratches, which Ignis always indulged with a fake exasperated sigh.

"He's been such a good bird, hasn't he?" she crooned, scratching at the curve of his jawbone. He twisted his head around in her lap to look up at her with an enormous black eye before letting it fall closed in contentment. "Yes, you have!"

"I don't think he likes me," Prompto said. "Every time I get near him, he tries to bite me. Doesn't do that with anyone else."

"I told you. It's the way you move—you're always fidgeting, and you approach him too fast. You need to be calm and soothing with him, like Ignis is."

Byrrus's toy gave a particularly shrill shriek as he threw it to the ground and leapt at it, smashing the squeaker with his enormous foot. With an enormous puff of air, Noctis let out a sigh.

"Not sure how a guy's supposed to sleep with all this noise."

"You could maybe not?" Prompto said. "First day in forever the sun's been out, and you're sleepin' through it, dude."

"You try staying awake after being gutted by the Bow of the Clever; then we'll talk."

"Does it hurt?" Ignis asked.

Laura couldn't see Noctis's face from behind the trunk he had chosen to rest against, but his left boot twitched a little in response. "Not really, no. It's just . . . it's hard to explain."

Ignis pressed his lips together tightly, his brows almost pressing into his line of sight. "And no word from the Fulgurian?"

"No."

"You sure we're s'posed to hear from him?" Gladio asked. "Rain's let up, after all. Could be a coincidence."

"You know as well as I that the Revelation has been initiated. If Lady Lunafreya has managed to contact him, then the trial for his covenant has begun. And in case the storms the Stormsender has been sending us weren't enough of a hint, today happens to be Ramuday."

"Day of Ramuh, I get it. But what's that gotta do—"

"A benevolent gesture of goodwill to his worshippers, I imagine, for him to rest on his holy day."

"Well, Titan's got Lestallum. Where do all the worshippers of Ramuh live? Maybe they know where to find him," Prompto said.

"The nature of his being lends itself towards a profession rather than a geographical region—judges, lawyers, those who uphold the law," Ignis answered. "However, there's a small sect remaining in Galdin Quay to pay respects to Angelgard, where it is said Stormsender once presided over all matters of justice for the most serious of offenders." With a final swipe over the leather, he clicked his tongue, and Calima immediately dropped from the sky in front of him, seemingly from nowhere. Unconcerned, unamazed, and even unamused by the notion of teleporting chickens, Ignis stood and hefted the cleaned and conditioned saddle onto Calima's back.

"So _that's_ why judgment day is always on Ramuday. I totally never made the connection before!"

"Judgment day?" Laura asked warily.

"The only day the courts will see cases," Gladio answered.

"I had hoped to avoid taking such a long journey by chocoboback," Ignis continued, his voice tightening as he worked the girth straps, "but if we haven't heard anything by tomorrow morning, I'm afraid we'll have to make our way to Galdin Quay."

"Least it'll stay dry in Leide," Noctis mumbled.

"Which is what leads me to believe he is here in Duscae somewhere, and makes me even more reticent to make the trip for nothing."

With a final pat to Calima's beak, he sat down on the ground again, one long leg outstretched and the other bent to support his arm. The look he gave her might have appeared cold and calculating to some with the way his eyes assessed her from her feet to her face, but that heat in his mind may as well have been a lover's touch for all that it made her want him. His gaze flickered to where Noctis's boots poked out from behind his tree, and he sighed, summoning an old newspaper to read instead.

He'd taken it upon himself on their recent trip to Leide to begin courting her like a boy in love, which she would have adored every second of had his attentiveness not been colored by contrition for careless words uttered a full two weeks ago. His words had stung, sure, but she had long moved on and didn't require atonement. Once he'd felt whatever invisible scale had been balanced between them, he'd grown almost giddy with affection—dragging her behind one of the larger Leiden rock formations, laying her down in the dry grass, and stroking her hair across his lap before confessing that he'd spent the last hour she'd been sparring with Gladio looking up videos on how to braid hair. And of course, he hadn't started simple.

She skimmed her fingers absent-mindedly over one of the French-style braids that began at her temples, following to where it combined with the second to form a single plait resting atop her long, loose hair at the back. Her fingertips caught on the small sprig of white Calima lilies he'd somehow managed to find and smiled at the memory of this morning. She had been behind the caravan feeding Saracchian one of his favorite treats, a Terran pomegranate, when he'd tackled her, pushing her up against a tree and devouring her mouth for a teasing moment before pulling away to grin radiantly, tuck the stem into her hair, and run off to race Calima with the others.

She was pulled back to the present with a soft touch to the top of her foot, and she looked up at him. The color of his mind had clouded over in a deep, vibrant indigo, his thoughts turning wistful and longing as he skimmed his bare fingertips up her foot and spread them until his palm rested around her ankle, but not for a second did his eyes leave the page to meet hers.

He seemed to find joy in the risk of expressing his affection in front of the others without getting caught—shooting her secret smiles when no one was looking, stealing brief kisses, finding excuses for their hands to brush one another as they worked. It was only too easy for him to send her unexpected waves of contentment when they were connected, so he'd taken to ambushing her in the middle of conversations—while he discussed vehicle maintenance with Prompto, argued about the plot of Gladio's latest book, or reviewed lessons with Noctis, who was too distracted trying to stay awake to notice Ignis's sudden change in expression.

But the tone of his thoughts had been changing as of late—growing ardent, coiling with desire, and for the most fleeting of seconds, almost becoming depressed, as days turned to weeks without having found time alone. She was surprised he'd lasted this long, young and virile as he was. Even in this moment when he wasn't so much as looking in her direction, he was exuding a cloud of intoxicating pheromones that made her breath hitch.

She was being stupid. She was old and experienced enough to control herself just as well as he was.

But one look at the slightest flush rising on his cheeks and his parted lips as he read the _newspaper_ , and she didn't need passive or active telepathy to know he wanted her just as badly. When his fingers skimmed just a touch higher up her shin, his viridian eyes flickered in her direction before darting down to the paper in his hand, and Laura had had enough.

"Kaloreth bamiam, Saracchian?" she asked, chucking the bird lightly under his beak so he would raise his head. She stood slowly, stretching her arms above her head and wiggling her hips a little. She didn't have to turn around to know that he had abandoned any pretense at reading. She could feel the burn of his stare on her skin and knew he was watching every shift of her body as though he were about to be tested on it.

She supposed, as intense as he had been the last two times they'd been together, it wasn't beyond the possibility that he was about to.

"What are you—" he hissed as she began picking her way through the trees to where Gladio had resumed reading what was left of the book he'd picked up in Lestallum, _The Business of Agriculture_. Prompto didn't even tear his attention away from whatever was frustrating him on his phone as she passed by, and it appeared as though Noctis had dozed off again. Gladio looked up as she approached, thrusting out his chin in a silent greeting.

She leaned in close to speak directly into his ear. "Would you mind keeping watch while we go and start dinner?"

The smirk he responded with wasn't quite as clear as the pornographic "bow chicka wow wow" music she swore she could hear coming from his head despite not being connected with him, but the smile dropped from his face when she frowned.

"Please, Gladio."

He could tease Ignis, Noctis, Prompto, or even her about anything he wished, but not this. He might not know it, but this was too new, too insecure for him to trample over just yet. As it was, she wasn't even completely certain how Ignis would react to this rather public intervention to get him laid.

Gladio's eyes darted to a spot behind her right knee, where she was sure Ignis was probably leaning around his tree trunk to spy on the two of them. He nodded, his smile genuine this time. "Sure, Princess. I can maybe buy you a good forty-five minutes, but the kids are gonna wanna see some grub as soon as we get back."

She kissed him on the cheek and grinned down at him. "Thanks, babe."

"No problem."

Ignis didn't blink once as she returned to him, and when she had drawn close enough to touch his mind, she tilted her head at just the right angle—their code to request a connection when they were in front of other people. He nodded, and when she poured herself into his head, his concern flashed across their connection like lightning.

 _What did you say?_

 _I asked if he would keep an eye on things while we made dinner._

He sagged against the wood and let out a breath. _And he believed that?_

 _Of course not. But he wouldn't believe it even if we really were going back just to make supper. Ignis, he was half-wondering if we were doing something over here just out of sight._

 _Astrals,_ he said, closing his eyes. _What sort of person do they think I am?_

 _I get the sense they're not really sure anymore. But Ignis—we're on a road trip with three other blokes. You're going to have to accept that they're going to think we're having sex every free moment whether we are or not._

 _So what you're saying is that we may as well enjoy ourselves?_

 _Pragmatic, as always._ But her warm smile faded into seriousness as she looked down at the man sitting at her feet—his expressive eyes growing fathomless with yearning, his mind a dizzying cocktail of want and frustration. The need for everything in his life to be ruthlessly compartmentalized so that business and pleasure never comingled would ruin him if he tried to live out here as he had in Insomnia. He, along with the others, were swept up in the tides of fate that would dictate the shape of the world, and such swift currents were never kind to those they dragged along. Laura wouldn't—couldn't—stop whatever terrible trials were stalking after all of them now, but she _could_ tempt him into loosening those walls so that when the world fell down around them, he would remember to remind himself who he was beyond a vessel of service.

He could keep his privacy, but something would have to give just a little, or that beautiful soul of his would eventually wind up choking on bitterness.

 _Take my hand?_ she asked, reaching out to him.

 _You have my heart. You have my life,_ he said huskily, placing his hand in hers. He had removed his second glove in the interim she had left to speak to Gladio, and his skin felt slightly cold to the touch as he laced his fingers between hers. _My hand seems of little consequence at this point._

Pulling him to his feet and meeting his darkening gaze as he stared down at her, she couldn't help but feel the weight of his words settle heavy on her shoulders. By the light of all the stars, she knew what it meant for him to give her this unwavering trust and loyalty—it meant everything to her—but she feared for this idealized view he had of her. She made mistakes, too; she was just as fallible as he. Did he realize that? There was no possible way she wouldn't disappoint him a billion times over in the course of their lives together if he expected her to live up to that image of the goddess he held in his head. And with his interest in bonding, it had become more imperative than ever that he understand that though she may not be human, she was still only Lliamérian.

But she brushed the thought aside for now. As eager as she was to be able to share that connection with him, she was glad for the time he would have to consider it further. Who knew when in their turbulent lives they would get the chance for a full night alone and two days safe enough for him to be a useless wreck without getting anyone killed? In the meantime, she'd do her best to show him exactly who she was and hope he still wanted her when that time came.

 _Wow,_ she chuckled. _Who knew beneath all that logic and stoicism lay a true romantic?_

He let out a derisive snort through his nose as he touched her elbow to lead her in the direction of the camper, but the gentleness of the gesture belied the impatience he was holding tightly in check. The pace he set in the direction of the caravan was difficult for her shorter stride to keep up without breaking into a jog, and as he side-eyed her and noticed her struggling, she could feel him chastising himself for his thoughtlessness. He slowed to a casual stroll.

 _Romantic?_ he asked incredulously, pressing his lips together as he looked out toward the Disc. _I've been contemplating how I'm going to manage keeping off you all afternoon._

 _Mmm, I had forgotten how insatiable youth could be._

"And yet evidence in your mind suggests age has nothing to do with it."

He gracefully leapt up the stairs when they reached the caravan to unlock the door, wincing at the shriek of the hinges, then swung to the side to bow her through. She stepped inside, the door screeching again as it shut behind her, and she had just enough time to turn to face him before he seized her by the shoulders and swung her around so that her back was against the door. As though reenacting their first kiss in Lestallum, he pressed himself against her, this time not shying away when his straining erection prodded at her hip.

"Ignis," she gasped in surprise, but it pleased her to no end to see him want something and reach out to take it like this, especially when that something was her.

His mouth was everywhere at once, a hot contrast to his chilly hands as he kissed her neck, her jaw, then her mouth in quick succession. His fingers traced the hem of her blouse suggestively, his mouth slowing so that he was tasting her lips almost lazily, but perhaps he'd already forgotten that they didn't have the _time_ for drawing this out today. Hoping to stir a greater sense of urgency, she grasped for his shirt and yanked it from his trousers, immediately setting to undoing his buttons from the bottom up as quickly as possible.

"Feeling frantic?" he murmured thick and low into her ear, letting his lips skim across the shell. Her hands faltered on the fourth button when he nipped lightly at the lobe, his breath blowing warm and heavy across the sensitive skin. "Very good. I don't feel quite so lecherous for having lusted after you this past week.

"The whole week?" she breathed, resuming her work up the front of his shirt.

He chuckled throatily. "Surely you must have felt it each time I—I can't control this feeling, Rose. Am I going mad?"

She _had_ felt him—several times this past week with increasing frequency. A final stab of victory at the end of one of his hunts, across the dinner table, from behind her every morning they had woken up together, and he would suddenly _look_ at her with that same fierce expression and those same heavy-lidded eyes, and his mind would grow instantly dark—just for a moment before he was brushing it aside and resuming his work.

But sometimes it was more polite to pretend she couldn't read what he was so clearly trying to hide from her.

"Yes, you are going mad. Isn't it glorious?"

He was forced to take a retreating step when she finally pushed his shirt off his shoulders, but her reward for the feat was that he carefully removed her lacy blouse, dropping it to the floor on top of his before returning to press every bare inch of skin he possibly could against hers. She shivered, chills running down her spine and a warm, wet ache surging in her core with the throb of his pulse beneath her lips.

"Please," he pleaded to her skin, blowing a heated breath across her collarbone. He clutched at her bra straps, pulling them off her shoulders before reaching around to somewhat awkwardly fumble with the clasp. She sighed when the undergarment fell away, leaving him free to press against her again. "Tell me you feel this as well."

 _I've been wanting this too,_ she reassured him, abandoning the concept of speaking aloud so she could occupy her mouth with more important things, like kissing the line of his jaw. _Every time you look at me—I swear, you're too beautiful for this world._

He yanked himself straight with a gasp as she ran her nails lightly down his back, his eyes opening wide before slamming shut with a shudder. Her lips dragged down to his neck with the sudden movement, where his clean, spicy scent washed over her in a wave.

 _Oh my god,_ she sent with a humming moan just beneath his ear. _Did you know the skin on your neck is just as soft as your cock?_

His throat heated beneath her lips as he replied, _Can't say it's something I've noticed, no._

Reaching down to undo his belt, she pulled away enough to smirk wickedly at him. "Let's compare then, shall we?"

He had wisely toed off his shoes around the same time she had, choosing to forego his usual ritual with his shoehorn, so his trousers and boxer-briefs fell freely to the floor once she had managed to wrestle them over his prominent erection, but as he kicked them away, she looked down and had to groan.

"Is something wrong?"

" _Yes._ " She dropped to her knees, reaching for the straps around his ankles. "I would like to lodge a formal protest against these damnable sock garters of yours."

"Duly not—" He cut himself off, sucking in a deep breath as she leaned up to suck lightly on his right hipbone. He let it out on a sigh. "You have my word; the moment we retire from the battlefield, they will be the first things to go. They're hardly comfortable."

"Mmm, but I may be coming around to them. They give me an excuse to be down here after all."

She slid her tongue across the underside of his head, preparing to envelope him in her mouth, but he pulled his hips away, his fingertips caressing her hair.

"We don't have the time for . . ." He bent low, placing his hands on her elbows to encourage her to stand. His movements became efficient, almost business-like as he undid the belt and button on her jeans, but his fingertips skimmed down the curve of her waist before pushing the rest of her clothes off her hips. "Allow me."

Without waiting for her answer, he bent to pick her up and carried her to their bunk, careful not to knock her against the cabinetry or the doorframe as they passed. He set her down on their blanket.

 _Where to begin—there's just so much I should have . . ._ he thought to himself as he crawled up to meet her lips, but she knocked his hand from beneath him and rolled them over so that he was pinned beneath her. Careful not to hit her head on the bunk above, she straddled him, lining up their bodies so that he slipped between her folds.

"No, it's my turn," she panted into his neck. "We don't have the time for what you have in mind. Next time?"

Conflict raged in his mind—the desire to angle himself properly and push inside her or to insist that she lie back and allow him to attend to her. She'd heard similar thoughts more than once—that he hadn't taken the time he felt he should have on her that night, that he needed to atone for his harsh words uttered almost two _weeks_ ago, that he needed to prove himself better than he was in order to keep her. He'd started that line of thinking in the shower the morning after their first time together, when he'd grown aroused at her washing his hair. It was as though any perceived infraction must be paid for with solicitude, else the scale between them would slip too far in his favor and she would feel he wasn't pulling his weight.

 _Stop worrying about that, love,_ she chastised gently, leaning forward to press her lips to his. She kissed him softly, sweetly, waiting for his mind to grow quieter, for him to settle into this private world of theirs where there was no obligation of cost and repayment. When he reached up to caress her hair because _he_ wished to feel the long strands slip through his fingers, she added, _I promise, the first opportunity we have the time, I'll let you take all night if you want._

 _I'm holding you to your word._

Laura paused a moment to take in the sight of him—lips and cheeks flushed with desire, viridian eyes wild with want, and his mind overflowing with tenderness—before angling her hips just so and pressing down on him, pulling out a little as he advanced further in to allow herself time to adjust to his girth. She sighed when he was buried to the hilt in her, trying to relax at the sensation of both her head and her body being filled with him. It _had_ been far too long—he made her feel like a virgin again.

 _Rose_ , he groaned, biting his lip and closing his eyes. He blew several heavy breaths through his nose, making his body hitch between her knees. His hips flexed subtly beneath her, almost as though he were subconsciously seeking that friction he craved but trying his best to be polite and let her handle the reins this time.

She smoothed her hands over his face in reverence—admiring the way his lips parted and his long eyelashes fluttered at her touch—taking a moment to bask in the joy that was the miracle they had found one another in this literally infinite multiverse. Had he any idea how rare and how precious that compatibility really was?

His eyes were dark and heavy when he opened them to her, holding in their depths far more years than he could possibly possess. The fingers wrapped around her hips tightened. "More than you know."

"Ignis."

Closer. She needed him closer. Taking extra care not to disturb his hair too much, she grasped his head between her hands, trying to bury herself in that generous heart without hurting him. He skimmed his fingertips up her ribs as she began to move on him, sending chills down her spine.

"Yes," he whispered huskily. "So very beautiful."

Laura knew well what most men liked—she'd used her assets more than once to her advantage. But Ignis found her body as a whole a work of art to pay homage to. He had transferred that singular focus, that intense sensuality she had admired about him to experience her just as intently as he would a fine wine or a new dish he was trying to puzzle out. Even in this moment as she was doing her best to make him feel treasured and beloved, he was almost single-mindedly cataloguing her most minute reaction to his hands running over her skin. His attention shot to every twitch of her facial expression, zeroed-in on every thought he could glean from their connection, fixated on precisely how she touched herself. She could hear him thinking how he had read that a woman's orgasm was just as emotional as it was physical, and that words from his heart might enhance her experience.

 _By the gods, Rose, your hair is the night and your skin made of starlight._ His fingers slipped through her hair from her shoulder to her waist, the back of his hand tracing the curve of her breast. _Goddess of the Dawn in my mind, Queen of the Stars beneath my hands._

She loved him dearly for his thoughtfulness, his attentiveness to her pleasure, but by the light of the fucking stars, she wanted to see him let go of himself for just a minute, to stop thinking about someone else for a second and to _be_ loved without giving anything of himself in return.

But he wasn't done talking. The man who was so well-known for his stoicism and laconism, who had described his first sexual encounter to his best friends as "a good thing," still had more to say.

 _My body is yours to do with as you will._ He curled his spine up as they moved together to take the tip of her breast in his mouth. _Take it, and use it for your pleasure, I beg of you._

And _oh_ , she couldn't deny that it felt so good to be adored so completely after so long, but what about him? Sure, he was enjoying himself, but it wasn't enough. Not for her.

"It goes both ways, love. You aren't an afterthought in this equation," she reminded him. "I'm just as much yours as you are mine. You want something from me? Ask for it. Take it. It's yours."

"I want—" He exhaled forcefully when she swiveled her hips just so.

"Tell me."

His hand knocked hers aside, his fingers slipping between her legs to take over where she left off.

"More," he rasped.

Had they not been connected, she didn't believe she would have understood. Touch. The secret to unlocking him was touch—whether giving or receiving it, he wanted more—and it would be her pleasure to fulfill his desire for it. She leaned over him, allowing her long hair to brush over his skin until it settled in a dark curtain around his face. Her rhythm slowed to better reflect her worship of his body, but the new position changed his angle of penetration so that his prominent rim caught her just right as he nearly pulled out of her.

"Ah," she gasped into his neck. There wouldn't be much time left for either of them. With their bodies rubbing together with each thrust and her lips caressing his jaw line, he'd begun to suck in each breath as though it were his last. His hands had grown uncoordinated, his mind finally quieted as sensation took him over.

"Yes,"he hissed, taking another sharp breath through his clenched teeth, his eyes opening wide and locking on her. _I can see eternity in your eyes, Rose. I can see our future._

He might have simply been searching for something poetic to say in this intimate moment, but there was something about the age of his eyes in contrast with his face as he said those words that gave her pause. He was so young, idealistic nearly to the point of naiveté despite his streak of cynicism, beautifully kind, but his soul was ancient as any immortal she'd ever met—thoughtful and wise beyond his years, slow to provocation, but swift and vicious in exacting what he believed to be justice. He would use the same hands to worship her as to kill in defense of those he loved without hesitation, would reach out with his last breath to help someone in need as to reach out to squeeze the life out of someone who threatened the light. Was this what pain created in a man so young? Perhaps just this man.

He had turned out to be even rarer than she'd originally thought, and to her disbelief, he'd given her permission to keep him.

The coil feeding off their shared pleasure pulled tight, on the cusp of releasing at just the right provocation. Her body grew rigid as Ignis thrust up into her, the fingers of his free hand tightening around her waist and his breath releasing in soft, open-mouthed whimpers.

"Please, Ignis," she moaned with a shuddering breath into his ear, her grip on his cock tightening as their movements grew more hurried and uncoordinated.

"Rose, I can't—"

His fingers sped up for a moment before his hips arched sharply, his head pushing into the mattress as he bared his teeth and emptied himself inside her with a feral snarl. The tide of wet warmth washed over her, and with a quivering intake of breath in his ear, she clutched at his shoulders and followed him.

Collapsing on top of him in a heap, she buried her face in his neck for one last breath of his scent before she had to pull away. That ever-present aroma of coffee lingered with the peppery sage, cedarwood, and bergamot of his aftershave, reminding her of Christmas in London, when her mum would serve that first pot of coffee as they opened presents just after putting the turkey in the oven. But as she made to roll off him and allow him his space, a hand settled on the back of her neck beneath her hair.

"It's all right. Stay."

Yet despite his calm tone and soft touch, she could feel his mind fluttering over each little worry that plagued him, working over reparations and solutions to solve them—his distaste at the idea of having a wanton tryst in the middle of the afternoon, his concern that they needed to forego this crucial bonding time in order to prepare supper so that they hadn't appeared to be doing what they absolutely had been doing, his dread at just how much humiliation he would have to endure from Gladio—but when his fingers tightened around a handful of her hair, he seemed to come to himself.

 _Make now always the most precious time._

With a long sigh, the patter of his thoughts finally quietened—not to grow completely still, but muted enough so that they wouldn't stir his anxiety. Laura counted out 147 beats of his heart as she ran a thumb back and forth over his jawline, his afternoon shadow creating prickling sandpaper sounds in the quiet camper. He ran his fingers through her hair, laying it flat along her spine.

 _I've missed you._

She felt his head shift as he looked down at her. "Was that your thought, or mine?"

"Both?"

He sighed again, his thoughts lingering on the disquiet nagging at him. This wouldn't do. It wasn't that he required sex in order to feel satisfied with her, but _this_ moment, right here, put him at ease. Nothing had changed—their relationship and all its requirements still came second to their duties, but there had to be _some_ way, _some_ place in their hectic lives that would allow them this time together with greater regularity.

Laura remained quiet, allowing him the space to work this out on his own, as the only solution she could see was one he wouldn't like. But he surprised her when his progression of logic caught up with hers—there was really only one regular period they were suitably alone together. The skin of his neck heated beneath her lips when he'd reached his conclusion.

"Perhaps when we return to the wild, we can come to some sort of . . . arrangement. These past two weeks—it's been . . . difficult."

"You mean hard?"

He chuckled. "If you prefer."

"It's true you lose some of the romance during these 'wanton trysts,' especially when they have to be rushed like this, but they have their uses."

 _Under certain conditions and ideal circumstances,_ he began hesitantly, the rhythm of his hand stroking down her back picking up speed, _perhaps_ _during our foraging and sparring sessions?_

"Mmm, now I'm really looking forward to getting up in the mornings."

Turning his head to press gentle kisses along her cheekbone, he groaned. "I suppose we've run out the clock. As it is, the rice won't be ready by the time they arrive."

"So don't make rice then. You've already soaked the beans, right? We'll make your burly bean bowl instead. Prom will be happy."

"I had considered that, only I've already mentioned making rice this evening."

She'd known, of course, that he'd considered and dismissed the idea, but it was for that very reason she was bringing it up again. "Darling, they won't remember you saying that. They won't notice."

"I certainly would."

"Trust me."

A slow, almost boyish grin spread over his face, and she shivered as he skimmed his blunt fingernails down her spine to the tip of her tailbone.

"So we have time, then."

With a smack to his chest, she pushed herself off him. "Insatiable lech!" she laughed. "We still have to get cleaned up, and as careful as I was with your hair, it's a bit mussed in back."

They straightened everything that needed straightening, remaining close enough to keep the stream of thoughts between them flowing freely. As Ignis put the chili together, Laura began packing away the various odds and ends the boys always seemed to scatter about when they remained in one place for too long, and they discussed their preparations for the long chocobo-ride through the rain to Galdin tomorrow. It wasn't until the other three were due to arrive that he remembered what upcoming trial had been haunting him earlier.

"Why Gladio?"

"Are you kidding me? That man is one of the sappiest closet romantics I've come across. Absolute mush drips off his mind any time we so much as come within six feet of one another. He, at least, knows we're involved—there's no fooling him. And even though he's a typical dude about it, he really does want to see you happy."

He blinked down at the bowl he was spooning chili into. "I never would have guessed it possible for romance to factor into Gladio's state of mind beyond those books he reads from time to time, particularly given his proclivity for company whenever we stop in a settlement for the night. But interested in my happiness? Surely not."

"You can be a bit thick sometimes; did you know?"

"I?" he spluttered, dropping the spoon in the bowl and facing her. "Well, enlighten me, then."

She pointed an accusing finger at him. "Oh no, this is something the two of you need to figure out on your own . . . all four of you, really."

"Perhaps Ms. Camilla might enlighten me," he grumbled, turning back to the counter. "I must say I'm amazed you aren't offended on behalf of women everywhere."

She shrugged. "He's honest with them up front. They make their choice. I don't see the issue."

He hummed noncommittally and reached for the can of Ebony sitting on the edge of the ancient particle-board counter. Halfway to his lips, he paused, frowning down at the can. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to start rationing these. The shops haven't had any for weeks due to the blockades, and I'm starting to run low on my supply."

"Do you have any of the beans left?"

"I do, but not as much as I would like. Even other brands are becoming more difficult to find, though they're far less palatable."

"I know you live and die by that particular brand," she said with a small, amused smile, "but I do have an extensive collection of roasted and unroasted beans myself, you know. You're welcome to them."

The color of his mind brightened in interest just as three familiar points of light appeared in the range of her perception. "Do you really? I was given to understand you were a tea connoisseur."

"Who says I can't be both? But shh, listen." She placed a hand on his arm and tilted her head, closing her eyes. "Can you feel them coming?"

She felt him go still. What began as a silk thread of olive green grew thicker and thicker in his mind until he finally made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "No. And I don't understand how it's possible I could if I'm not telepathic."

"Because you aren't feeling for psionic waves. You're feeling for magical auras first and foremost. I'll confess, it's difficult from inside the caravan like this. Keep your senses cast out as they get closer. You'll feel Noctis first because his aura is more powerful."

His eyes unfocused, his head shaking back and forth minutely until they both clearly heard Gladio's voice ring out in unnecessarily loud, casual conversation with Noctis and Prompto. A fond smile pulled at his lips.

"That _is_ kind of him. I suppose your formidability prompts him to be more accommodating."

"You survived your trial by fire, and he's done for now, I think. Besides, it's not like he doesn't find you intimidating."

"Really."

Instead of answering, she grabbed two of the bowls and thrust them out the door, waiting for Noctis and Prompto to come closer and take them.

"Come and get it!"

"Heh. Come and get _what_ , exactly?" Gladio asked, smirking at her. Even from the top of the stairs, Laura was nearly eye-level with him. She passed out the two bowls, stuck her tongue out petulantly, and reached inside for the third bowl to hand to him.

"We're not dogs," Noctis grumbled as he plopped down in one of the plastic chairs.

"Could've fooled me," Ignis mumbled from the kitchen.

Gladio took the steaming bowl of chili from her and winked. "See? I gotcha covered."

She leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Thanks, Princess."

"You're welcome." He slapped the doorframe twice and added seriously, "Both of ya."

Ignis smiled bashfully down at the counter. "My thanks," he mumbled. He grabbed the last two bowls, thrusting one into her hands and escaping outside, though he was careful not to place too much distance between them. She looked down at her bowl as she took a seat across from him at the small circular table and couldn't help but smile.

 _What's this?_

He didn't look in her direction. _What's what?_

 _It appears_ someone _garnished this bowl with beans in the shape of a smiley face._

He snorted a little. _They must've fallen like that. It's coincidental._

 _No it isn't._

"You okay there, Iggy?" Prompto asked. "You're not catching a cold, are ya?"

"A little dust in my throat." _Then the person responsible for putting your bowl together was being foolish._

She smiled tenderly down at her chili, filled with warmth at his playful gesture. Like the rest of them, he had no money after the Fall beyond the meagre allowance he allotted to each of them for toiletries and personal items. They were paid and supported as a group for their efforts, and most of their funds went into upgrading or replacing the surprisingly basic weapons they had left home with. Even with his allowance, he didn't appear to spend much. The braiding, the flowers, the smiley face—they were his way of courting her with his wits instead of his wallet.

 _I think it's incredibly sweet._

She saw him duck his head in her peripheral vision. _You may be too easily impressed._

"Whew!" came a voice from across the yard. The five of them turned their heads in the direction of the sound to spot two tourists standing at Wiz's shop window, examining the menu. "What happened to your place, Wiz? Looks like a herd of wild chocobos came and ate ya outta house and home."

"It's them darn blockades . . . cain't get no merchandise in."

"Ah, that explains why the shelves are so bare," one of the women said, gesturing at the shop window. "Wish the fugitives would just hurry and get caught."

Camilla shook her head sadly. "Not only that, food isn't comin' through either. And the they'll go empty unless the blockade's lifted soon."

"Does that mean you aren't cookin' up whatever's smellin' so good and spicy?" the second tourist asked.

"We done got the full regular menu fer now, but we don't have nothing spicy, I'm afraid," Wiz answered.

"We need to get going tomorrow no matter what," Noctis sighed, stabbing at his chili with a disgusted air. "Sucks the whole world suffers every time we're involved in something."

"Yeah," Prompto agreed heavily.

"Should we crank up the canopy, ya think?" Gladio asked, frowning up at the thick layer of dark clouds that had rolled into the area since Laura and Ignis had last been outside. "Looks like the old man's not gonna wait until his day's over to get back to work."

"Yeah, what's up with that? Thought today was his day of rest," Prompto added.

Laura dropped her spoon into the bowl to get up, but Gladio beat her to it, heading to the door where the crank was. "That's the problem with trying to figure out why a supernatural being does what he does," she said, doing her best not to sound too pedantic, "trying to figure out what he wants."

As though in response to her words, a burning spark of gold lit up on the edge of her consciousness, hovering just inside her now ridiculously short range of perception. She stiffened, tilting her head and reaching out to touch the gold carefully. The mind was deep and placid like the still waters of a mountain lake, but also strangely basic, animalistic. She recognized it from when they had met in Longwythe, but the second golden spark hovering just beyond was a stranger to her. That mind was sharper, colder, inhuman, yet still golden with the magic of Eos. Another Messenger, then?

The stranger recoiled in distaste at her passive touch—a telepath, then, like the dog—but made no move to retaliate. The reaction, while disappointing, didn't surprise her. Despite her best efforts to align her resonant frequency to that of this world, she and the Crystal, along with its higher servants, still inflicted pain on one another. She had even noticed that Noctis still flinched away from her from time to time, particularly when she had to use magic on him.

Laura issued a broad-spectrum apology, not making true contact as was custom, and did her best to shutter her passive telepathy to the immediate area only as a show of respect and peace.

 _What is it?_ Ignis asked, but she chose to answer aloud instead.

"Noctis, your immortal dog is here," she said, jerking her head in the visitors' direction. "And he's brought company."

Noctis nearly knocked the chair over in his haste to stand. "Umbra's here? Luna—"

"Uh . . . who's the company?" Prompto asked. "Is it Lady Lunafreya?"

"Dunno," Laura replied as she and Ignis stood to follow. "Let's go introduce ourselves, shall we?"

The alabaster-skinned, black-haired woman awaiting them in the deserted corner of the ranch underneath a tree did indeed possess the same golden halo about her as the dog. It tasted enduring on Laura's tongue, stinging a little as the group drew closer to her. The woman didn't lift her eyes from the ground, but her head jerked slightly in Laura's direction as they stood in front of her. Yes, immortal identity mutually established then, now what? Based on her experience with other immortals on this world, she would either be completely fine as the dog had, if a bit flinchy; or she would question her identity before attacking.

 _Rose?_ Ignis asked in response to her tension, but he was careful not to appear as though he was speaking to her. _It should be safe. Gentiana is faithful to the Oracle._

Which meant precisely nothing for her. As he hadn't been present for the confrontation with the Kings of Yore, nor had he truly understood just how violent the attack from Titan had been, he just didn't understand that his allies weren't necessarily hers.

But the Messenger apparently chose to be fine with Laura's foreign aura, for she turned to Noctis and began speaking in an unnecessarily ethereal voice as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

"Hear me, oh King of the Stone. By the Stormsender's blessing will the path to the stone be opened. The Oracle goes hence in her king's name."

Noctis's eyes widened just as a fork of lightning streaked across the sky, lighting up the dark copse of trees they had met in. A fat drop of water landed with a splat on Laura's shoulder. "Luna! Where is she now?"

"The eye of the Storm. When the covenant is forged, the Oracle and the Ring shall await their king at the walls of water. Stray not from the path."

Great, a speaker of riddles. As it was physically impossible to lie in Lliamérian, Laura's people had become masters at speaking truths to mislead, a practice she was certainly not raised with and never could fully adapt to, no matter how many years she had spent among them. But with all her years of practice at their mind games, she had some skill, even if she had still been trounced by children before the war had begun. She didn't doubt the veracity of this woman's claims, but the speech pattern was similar—the use of the third person and referring to _everything_ by an epithet so as to make the listener vulnerable to misinterpretation. It made her suspicious for what lies or half-truths she might be setting them up for in the future.

To her surprise, Gentiana turned her head in Laura's direction again, her eyes still hidden from view by her downcast gaze, which wasn't exactly helping to build that bridge of trust between them. Laura abruptly withdrew from Ignis's mind, preparing herself for whatever blow this woman was about to deal. She heard his quick intake of breath from the pain of their unexpected separation, but he didn't move otherwise.

"When the Warriors of Light seek the crime," Gentiana said in a silvery whisper, "Pitioss will light the path to the shame of the Six."

Laura raised an eyebrow. "All right then."

She'd been waiting for something like this—some clue that would lead her from the trailhead she'd discovered in Insomnia. She had no idea what Pitioss was, but accounting for thousands of years of language drift, the place sounded suspiciously like Pit of Eos, or Pity Eos. Then again, she couldn't be certain this immortal _would_ account for language drift if she had been around when it was first named.

As she had left the throne room after her trial with Cor and not nearly enough final instructions, Regis had mentioned that the painting in the hall just outside depicted the prophecy they were dealing with. She'd found the nearest passing person in the foyer, a retainer named Caeli, to tell her everything about it. Six deities had been depicted in the painting, but not all were the six that everyone spoke of. Ifrit had been removed for his betraying humanity, but in his place, a seventh deity had been painted as the focal point of the image, featured even more prominently than the King of Light. Caeli had claimed the woman with the sun's corona emanating as a crown from her head to be an artistic representation of justice, or more likely the Chosen Oracle, but Laura knew a Goddess of the Dawn when she saw one—she would know better than most. And it couldn't have been a coincidence that the entire planet had been named for the Greek Goddess of the Dawn.

But then she'd learned that the gods were physical beings, lending a far more literal interpretation to the painting than she had expected, and still, everyone only ever spoke of the Six. Why was Eos featured in such an important piece of Lucian art but never spoken of? Laura was certain she still existed somewhere, as even so-called deities of this world recognized Laura's golden power as belonging to Eos. Too distant to feel the burning, alien nature of her existence on this world, Titan had asked outright whether she had been the Goddess of the Dawn before attacking her. He'd felt stunned, almost angry in Noctis's mind, which made her wonder whether the Six were somehow involved in the demise of the seventh—perhaps with the darkness represented in the painting by the inky blackness creeping up her robes and wing. That golden power of life, light, and time was inextricably wound through everything on this planet, nowhere stronger than one of the gods and the two Messengers standing in front of them. Had she been the first on this world? The mother of this species that now ruled over the humans?

Gentiana tilted her head a little, dipping it forward into a small bow. "At the walls of water, the Mate lives or dies by the Anathema's choice."

Now _this_ was what she'd been afraid to hear. There were far more worrisome aspects of that painting than superstitious lore of gods and goddesses and what might have happened to them, such as what had happened to either Ignis's or Prompto's eyes. A flux point had begun to hover on the horizon for them all since the moment they had received Titan's blessing, prodding quietly but insistently at her instinct, and though she'd been hoping it would resolve itself, Gentiana's warning could only be in reference to that day looming over them.

She kept her face relaxed and blank for the boys' benefit as she worked furiously to deconstruct the message. "Anathema" was easy enough to figure out, and of course the Mate was in danger—he'd been in near constant danger since he'd left the city. Closing her eyes, she called on the golden power in her mind, immersing herself completely in the timelines as she so rarely did. The tangled knot in the future appeared the same as the last time she'd checked—a significant flux point, but possessing the potential to become a fixed or divergence point should they make the wrong move somewhere. Should that knot shift, there would be nothing she could do to save anyone from whatever was coming for them. That point _needed_ to remain in flux—for all their sakes.

But she couldn't dwell on the possibility that this knot had anything to do with the painting. Prophecies could either be taken literally or figuratively, after all. Ignis or Prompto could suffer a permanent injury, a temporary setback, come to be known as 'the blind hand of justice,' or even simply be represented as a man who didn't see something coming, so honestly, the depiction was meaningless until events came to pass. If he completed his training with her, Ignis, at least, could be labeled as the man who could see in the dark, and that was some comfort. All she could do in the meantime was keep a weather eye out and deal with the issue when, or if, it came.

With the power still forefront in her mind, she opened her eyes to Gentiana, allowing them all to see the vortices of gold swirling wild in them. The magic in her voice made Gentiana's sound counterfeit as Laura's most powerful persona spoke on top of her—doubling the tone in a way that still creeped Laura out, even after all these years.

"There is no choice to be made. The Anathema has made a vow—whatever the cost—and the Fire shall burn its full potential."

As she released the bond on a weary sigh, Gentiana bowed her head again, more deeply this time. "The Anathema must take care that a new path is not born of the labor, or the Fire will perish with all."

"I am very well aware."

Subtly smiling, Gentiana took a small step back, fading into the droplets of rain that suddenly poured down on them as though a switch had been flipped somewhere.

"So much for staying dry today," Gladio complained.

"Laura," Ignis whispered urgently. "What is it?"

"Damned immortals. There must be something about the infiniteness of time that makes them incapable of uttering a straight sentence. It's too fracking hard for them to say, 'Hey Noctis, go get Ramuh's blessing; then head to this walls of water place and see Luna to get the ring.'"

"That would be Altissia," Ignis answered.

"I thought you managed okay," Prompto laughed. "You guys sounded like you were exchanging some super-secret spy passwords or something. So she's immortal too?"

"She's a Messenger," Ignis replied, and though Prompto likely couldn't hear it, Laura noticed an edge of impatience to his tone, "a spirit faithful to the Oracle."

"Oh, uh . . . for real?"

"Gods, Messengers," Gladio scoffed, "we're going beyond real now, pal."

As Noctis bent to take his notebook from Umbra and the other two were distracted with petting the dog, Laura directed Ignis's attention away from the scene.

"Have you heard of Pitioss?"

"No." He tilted his head at her, the expression on his face almost demanding a connection. She granted his request reluctantly. _Something's frightened you. What's wrong?_

 _This is one of those things I can't tell you, Ignis. You've traveled in time yourself; you know the consequences should I say or do the wrong thing._

He frowned sharply, and a sense of dread overcame her. There had never been an issue with James when it came to knowledge of time—as two people possessing a full time sense, they'd both had to keep secrets from one another more than once. Data had viewed her ability as a curious philosophical dilemma and nothing more. Surprisingly, of the few people who'd known of her time sense, the one who had put up the most resistance to her silence had been Jean-Luc, who had never cared for the idea that she usually held the answers to the safety of his crew but wouldn't divulge them. She wondered whether Ignis's similar personality spelled an identical argument in their future, and she moved to cut it off at the head before it had started. He needed to understand this thoroughly _before_ they bonded and not after.

 _This is the weight you must bear, the price you must pay for being with me. You have to trust that I don't conceal things from you lightly._

 _I . . ._ _understand,_ he replied, but his jaw was locked tight and his mind colored intense red with frustration. He would never be happy when he couldn't share her burdens, a feeling she was familiar with, as she hated that she couldn't simply wipe his away with the wave of a hand either.

"Let Luna know I'm okay, and she won't have to wait much longer," Noctis said to Umbra in a choked voice, and through that ever-so-slowly clearing haze of numbness, Laura could feel the smallest, most tentative thread of a fledgling feeling. "We'll be together soon."

She took a hesitant step toward Noctis. _He loves her,_ she said in surprise. _I wasn't sure he did._

Ignis stepped up behind her, his agitation clearing a little as he explained in a rush of images—the death of his nanny; the injury and subsequent time spent in a wheelchair; his transformation from a bright and lively child to a sullen rebel, intent on escaping his responsibilities by sneaking out, requiring Ignis to tag along and take the fall when they got caught.

She clenched her teeth at his passionless explanation, knowing full-well what "taking the fall" must have entailed for him had his tutors been the ones to find him.

 _As I only just recently told him,_ _I have no regrets on the matter. He was never the same after the incident, but I would like to think those excursions brought him some small happiness. And through it all, there was Lady Lunafreya. If you believe me a private man, it's nothing compared to the jealousy with which Noct has guarded his relationship with her. Even I don't understand it fully._

"Gentiana's doing the telepathy thing," Noctis said, standing to turn to her. "We got a place to go to meet Ramuh."

"Is she hurting you?" Laura stepped closer, reaching out with her mind to probe around Noctis's head, but the thread of foreign thoughts invading his space was gentle as it should be—even if it was _still_ without his express permission.

"No, she's giving me instructions for getting the Stormsender's blessing. Come on. Let's get outta this rain first."

Prompto skipped ahead, punching a hand in the air. "Great! So we just gotta get Ramuh's blessing, then we hit up Altissia. Finally!"

"Lady Lunafreya has done well to keep the Ring from falling into enemy hands, though I'm afraid she must wait a little longer," Ignis answered patiently, following behind at a brisk walk.

"Oh yeah, we're still gonna visit the other royal tombs, right?"

"Of course. We've simply gone off-road for a spell."

"Noct could definitely use a hand from his ancestors," Gladio said doubtfully. "We shouldn't abandon that."

"The dead can wait, but gods aren't always forgiving. Let us not keep the Fulgurian waiting. And as the ferries are still forbidden from docking in Galdin, we must arrange passage aboard a ship somewhere if we're to reach Altissia. We can accomplish that as we finish the tombs."

"Talked to Jared like you asked. He knew the location of the hidden harbor King Regis used all those years ago," Gladio said. "Bet everything's just the way he left it."

Ignis ducked under the caravan's canopy and nodded. "Good. Caem may serve us now as it did them then."

"Hmph, just might work. I'll have Iris set it up."

Prompto shook the rain from his hair like a dog and looked between Ignis and Gladio. "I've never heard of Caem before. Is it famous?"

"Not among the masses," Ignis answered, "but its harbor was home to His Majesty's ship."

"Cool! So we found a harbor. Do we have a ship?"

Noctis shrugged. "Maybe?"

Gladio yawned, stretching his arms so that his palms rested against the canopy ceiling. "If not, we'll find one of those, too."

"So, in the meantime . . .?"

"We get some sleep, then head into the Storm first thing tomorrow morning," Noctis said.

"A rendezvous with Ramuh," Laura sighed, turning to gaze over the black sky pierced with fantastic rivers of lightning. Spreading her mind as far as she could over the landscape in the vain attempt to contact the instigator of this storm, she prayed they wouldn't be in for another week like the one they'd endured coming here. "Can't wait."

* * *

"It's not good to throw daggers in the dark," Ignis remarked smoothly, but Laura could clearly feel the accompanying distaste that made it more of a complaint to her mind.

"It would be nice to brighten things up in here," Noctis agreed.

 _I believe . . . Rose, I believe I can feel you. I think?_

She checked his mind to see what it was he was feeling—the gold, the eddies on the air from her aura rolling off her. He could even taste the immortality in it, though he hadn't identified it as such yet. She pointed it out to him, and he nodded his understanding.

 _Can you reach out farther? Can you feel Gladio walking next to us?_

Gladio rubbed furiously at his face, blinking owlishly. "First Titan, now Ramuh," he sighed. "Chasing down deities is hard work."

"Think how Lady Lunafreya must feel," Prompto said sadly.

Ignis had cocked his head to do as Laura had instructed, but at Prompto's remark, he added, "If the strain of the rites is as Gentiana suggested earlier, I fear she's far worse off than we are."

"She didn't have to bear this alone," Laura said. "We all could have done the tombs and the covenants together. Why didn't she wait for us?"

Laura had only heard snippets here and there about Lunafreya—mostly from radio reports and Ignis—so she didn't know much about the young woman they had originally set out to meet. But any mortal who gave up her life force to heal the sick and could stand in front of Titan with that blazing look in her eyes certainly earned Laura's respect. Yet another young person on this world giving up her only life in service to others—what was it about this planet that created such extraordinary people in such abundance?

"Likely to split the enemy forces—searching for two is more difficult than searching for one, and with the Empire's keen interest in divinity, I daresay the one with the power to awaken them presents a more enticing target for the moment."

"Well, I do hope she stays with us after Altissia. It can't be easy doing this on her own if our experience is anything to go by."

They had spent the last five days running their chocobos ragged across Duscae so that Noctis could touch the electric trees placed miles apart from one another—with nothing but wilderness, imperial soldiers, daemons, half-mad animals, and a steady rainfall in between. Compared to the last trial they had endured with Titan, this one hadn't been so bad. They were too swift-moving on their mounts to be attacked by wildlife, and they took extra care to reach a haven by nightfall, else they would have been overrun by the unnaturally active population of daemons seeping from the ground like a flood.

Still, the chocobos would be requiring extra care again tonight, and if the shivering humans didn't get out of this freezing, moldy-smelling damp and get some hot tea and soup in them soon, there might be an outbreak of illness to deal with on top of everything else.

 _Yes, soup,_ Ignis thought longingly.

Until then, she was doing her best to distract him from the cold and what he refused to acknowledge as his fear of the dark with training. His explanation was that he disliked the unknown of it—that everything he used to make decisions was nearly completely cut off, and nothing good ever happened in the dark. But he was still here—almost taking pleasure in learning something new, in eliminating dangerous creatures so that the people living nearby could be safe. It was just who he was. Far from being a killjoy as the others sometimes teased him for, he relished an adventure when he was on it. The threat of peril was another matter. He'd proven time and again he would ride out and meet it without hesitation when faced with it, but he'd rather not seek out danger if possible. It explained so much about him—that duality in his head every time she'd pulled him off on an adventure, the way he would advise Noctis not to drive at night but then happily jump out of the car to face whatever daemon had surfaced in the middle of the road, his presence at this very moment in this dark cave teeming with daemons despite his "distaste" for the dark.

 _I can feel the sensations you taught me in combat—the heat of his body, the shift of his clothes, the vibrations of his feet on the ground, but nothing from Intuition._ He shivered, pulling his damp jacket lapels more tightly around him in an effort to trap in body heat.

 _His aura will be a bit harder to feel. Try sensing life instead of magic. Every being emits an electrical signal. You may not be able to feel him at all. Don't be discouraged. You're doing so well._

A now-familiar foreign presence brushed past, grazing Laura's awareness as though warning her it was approaching before inserting itself into Noctis's consciousness.

"Noctis," she warned, doing her best to keep the irritation from her tone.

Gentiana might have been gentle and helpful so far, but even though Noctis didn't seem to mind the contact, it chafed at Laura that she had never asked permission. That sort of behavior was punishable by death on some worlds. Then again, she had to remind herself that she'd be a hypocrite of the highest order if she passed judgment. She herself hadn't always been a model telepathic citizen when it came to relations with apaths.

"Are you all right, Noct?" Ignis asked when Noctis stiffened, stopping dead in the middle of the trail they were following.

He shook his head clear and resumed walking. "Gentiana again."

"What did she say?"

"That Luna is awakening the Six."

"Even Ifrit?" Laura asked.

"Huh. Guess I don't know. She said, 'the gods.'"

 _I can't feel an inkling of Gladio, but in straining so hard to do so, I believe I can feel Noct._

 _That's fantastic! He's a good fifteen feet from you, at least._

 _What's that shimmer on the air just up ahead? It feels wrong._

 _Some daemons just bled into existence. We'll probably be seeing them soon. You'll probably never be able to identify them through Intuition, but you might be able to sense their weaknesses. Can you?_

A moment passed before he shook his head in frustration. _No._

 _Don't push yourself. You're learning so_ _much so quickly. I promise—it may not seem like it, but you're doing incredibly well._

The violent purple glow of the group of thunderbombs shone like a beacon when they rounded the corner. They bounced and giggled like living rave decorations, and not for the first time, Laura wondered just what the evolutionary purpose was for a disease to turn ordinary human beings into _this_. Surely, this disease wasn't natural. Nature usually wasn't this stupid.

"Daggers and swords everyone," Ignis called out softly to the others. "And take care not to be electrocuted, if you please."

 _Cheater,_ she accused.

 _This_ is _war, after all,_ he replied smugly. _It's only natural I use every tactical advantage I have, including sight._

 _We'll probably be working too far apart for me to keep a connection, but don't think I won't be watching you dance with one. Go on._

As she and Prompto each worked to take down a thunderbomb a short distance away from the others, Laura kept an eye on Ignis and his bladework. He was improving; the evidence was clear to see in the way he rushed to Noct's side and kept his feet and daggers moving. But he was still trying too hard. That analytical mind of his was a treasure before and after a battle, but things simply happened too quickly in the middle of one for him to use it. She could see it on his face, feel it in his mind. He was overanalyzing, forcing himself to anticipate the enemy's next move and second guessing himself. He might have learned to take in information from more sources and vastly improved the sensitivity of his senses, but he wasn't treating them equally by allowing his instincts to take over.

"Hey, really good work there, Ignis," Noctis said when they'd finished, the surprise evident in his tone. "Noticed you been taking it easy on the potions lately."

"Much obliged. I thought it prudent to cut back, if only for the sake of our funds and His Highness's exertion."

"I'm just glad we're not getting hurt as much," Noctis said quietly. "To hell with the money and the energy."

"It's so amazing," Prompto said with a sigh. "The power of the gods in the palm of your hands. So Noct, right now you're still gathering your powers, but what'll you do once you've found 'em all? What is the King's calling exactly?"

Gladio chuckled humorlessly and pulled out his phone. "Well, become best buds with the gods, maybe?"

"The calling is only a set of guiding principles," Ignis answered. "Legend has it the King once stood alongside the Six in the battle to banish the darkness."

"Well, hopefully it'll guide him into taking down the Empire once and for all."

"Yeah, I like the sound of that," Noct said thoughtfully, but his voice grew smaller and more hesitant as he added, "'Darkness' seems awfully vague. You really think it's the Starscourge I'm supposed to get rid of, Ignis?"

"So we've been led to believe, but remember, you aren't alone in this."

"Leaving Insomnia was eye-opening, but this is mind-blowing!" Prompto exclaimed, his voice echoing far too loudly off the cavern ceilings to bounce back to them. "I mean, first Laura's an alien, now Noct's collecting the power of the Six? It's like—the whole world's gone crazy."

Ignis fell into step alongside Laura as they continued walking and tilted his head significantly at her. "Never dreamt I'd see lore come to life before my very eyes." _Among so many other things,_ he added warmly.

 _The adventure is only just beginning, Ignis, but I assure you, the feeling is entirely mutual._

Gladio leapt up onto an outcropping of rock, squinting into the dark. "After Ramuh and the rest of the tombs, we go see Luna and Leviathan, right?"

"Yes. That is, unless any other deity presents itself for the Revelation beforehand."

"We shoulda done the Tomb of the Tall this week while we were doing the Clever," Gladio grumbled, looking down at his phone again. His mind wrapped itself in a shroud of fuschia worry when he lit up the screen.

Noctis scoffed. "Even with the chocobos, no way am I headed back into that hellhole without the car. We have no idea if that was Ardyn or if that area's always like that."

"Damn it," Gladio swore, then let out a massive sneeze.

"What's wrong, Gladio? You're not going to get a signal this deep into the caves," Laura said, sidestepping to look down at the black screen reading 'Call Failed.'

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "Just thought I'd try again. I told Iris to be ready to move out at a moment's notice, but she hasn't answered since I told her to get Jared on Caem a few days ago."

"I'm sorry," she said, threading her arm through his. "Hopefully we can hitch a ride to go check on her as soon as we're done with this."

"Yeah," he said doubtfully. "The blockades will pose a problem."

"Not if we blast our way through them," Noctis growled menacingly.

"Guys, what was that sound?" came Prompto's voice from behind them, sounding small from how far behind he'd gotten in the last couple of minutes. The four of them turned around and searched the darkness behind them—not even a glimmer of his travel light peeked out from behind the bend in the path. How could she have not noticed his mind growing so far away?

"I didn't hear anything," Noctis called out. "You should probably form up closer than that, though."

Laura stretched out her senses, feeling for Prompto's location in the dark cave. His bubbling mind was easy to find, but there was something nearby, something close to him she couldn't identify. It almost felt human, but its thoughts were stunted, wild, half choked off so that she could only guess that it was acting instinctually.

 _A daemon about to appear, perhaps?_ Ignis asked, reading her surface thoughts with some alarm.

 _It doesn't feel like a daemon, but either way, we're probably not going to find puppies and kittens in a place like this._ "Prompto, come over he—" she called out, but her instruction was cut off by his scream, primal and terrified. The ear-piercing sound seemed to go on forever as it bounced and echoed off the rock walls, fading away as it sunk into the bottomless chasm that edged their path.

"That way," Laura said, pointing in the direction she could feel his frozen mind. The four of them rushed in his direction, hopping over rocks and boulders strewn across the trail.

"Prompto! What happened?" Ignis demanded. _Is he all right?_

 _He feels like he's okay, but why isn't he answering?_

"Prompto!" Gladio roared. "Are. you. okay?!"

They were almost on top of him when he finally answered, "No I'm _not_ okay! This place is LITERALLY the worst! And why'd it have to be a SNAKE?"

Gladio's travel light fell on him first, revealing his blonde head tucked into his knees in a corner between two boulders, shivering near the last electric tree Ramuh apparently wanted Noctis to touch.

Honestly, there was something a little perverted about an old man posing as a god and ordering a boy to run around stroking his various lightning rods in order to become powerful.

"Prompto! Are you all right?" Ignis asked, bending to check him over and helping him to stand. _Your mind can be an appalling place to reside, sometimes._

 _Better get used to it,_ she said cheekily.

"I'm so glad to see you guys! She dragged me down here. Dunno where she went."

"She's there," Gladio said, summoning his sword and turning to face the anomaly head on. "Fuck, I can _smell_ her."

The snake was small compared to the midgardsormr, the diamond patterns of her grey and black scales glittering along her length as she slithered into the beams of their travel lights. The pungent, musky odor of reptile hung heavy in the air in a cloud around the creature, but in place of a pointed snake's head, a bulbous, distorted human skull sat—a woman, or what was left of her. Several of her long black dreadlocks had petrified into an icy blue, matching the pulsing veins trying to push themselves from her lifeless flesh. Her terrible blue lips were pulled back into a snarl, revealing crooked, human-looking teeth.

But Laura could still feel the feeblest spark of humanity in her mind—too buried for Laura to connect with and put her out of her misery, but leaving the creature with enough presence of mind for her to speak.

"My baby. Where . . .?" the snake-woman hissed in a rattling voice that sounded like dead leaves.

"Sorry, can't help you there," Noctis scoffed, summoning his sword to his hand and brandishing it at her.

"Noctis," Laura chastised. She stared up into the woman's face, into those cold, dead eyes, and she felt her hearts break a little. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

 _Rose, what is it?_

 _Can't you feel her? She's in pain all alone down here, missing her baby, missing her humanity. All this suffering . . ._

"Noct! Do something!" Prompto screamed, pointing at the snake-woman as she lowered her head threateningly.

She raced toward Noctis first, who leapt out of the way. "Don't ask me. Do it yourself!"

Ignis let out a sigh. "Yes, there's the leadership we were all hoping for," he said under his breath as he summoned his daggers. _Then we must do what we can to end her suffering._ In a louder voice, he added, "She's a naga—greatswords, daggers, and ice. Be sure to put on the proper items, or it's going to be a toadally bad day for all of us."

Prompto winced. "Oof, Iggy."

 _Seriously? Puns? Now?_

 _Embracing that which makes us human in our darkest hours ensures we remain as such,_ he said heavily, his large, sad eyes staring up at the woman weaving hypnotically above him. _Perhaps that's what happened to this unfortunate woman._

"Let's just get this over with," Laura said, summoning her falchions. _Wise beyond your years. You're right, of course._

 _See you on the other side?_ he asked with a slight smile when he felt her begin to pull from their connection. She winked at him before he stepped up to Noctis's side.

With the five of them working together, battling the naga went far more smoothly than the disaster that had been the midgardsormr. She still proved a challenge, as she struck as quick as lightning, forcing both Laura and Noct to warp-strike up to head and hold her in place as the others gathered around to concentrate an attack.

Ignis still seemed to struggle with his training as he ducked and wove with the snake's movements. Laura could tell his reduced visibility was limiting how much he could deduce from the naga's musculoskeletal structure, but this was the perfect practice for him, really. If he was as good as she thought he had the potential to be, he wouldn't even need the travel light to fight one day. Perhaps she should give him a telepathic lesson when they got to Lestallum soon so he could see firsthand how her mind processed a battlefield and help him improve a little faster.

"Hyahh!" Prompto hollered, hurling an ice spell into the woman's face. The flask broke over her forehead, and she threw her head back with a scream of pain that rattled in Laura's skull as it echoed across the cavern.

"Bring back . . . my baby!" the creature wailed in a desperate lament as it melted into a pool of oozing black liquid at their feet.

Laura took a step closer to Ignis, taking comfort in the heat coming off his body and his faint silvery aura. Having seen so much of this universe, she wasn't certain whether she believed in an afterlife, but if humans _did_ pass on to another dimension on this world, Laura wished the woman peace.

"Godspeed," Ignis murmured.

"If her baby's anything like her, I ain't going near it!" Prompto shouted at the puddle seeping into the stone, stomping at the edge of receding line.

"She was confused," Laura explained in a low voice. "They used to be human, remember? She had just enough presence of mind to miss her baby down here, alone, in the dark."

"Oh man," Gladio said, running a hand through the short hair on the side of his head. "I didn't think about it like that."

Prompto went quiet as Noct muttered, "Yeah."

As Gladio, Noctis, and Prompto turned toward the bare, white tree, its branches bleached with age, Laura was reminded too strongly of her last days in Minas Tirith, gathered around the White Tree of Gondor and singing lamentations for all those dear friends she had lost in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.

A gentle touch to her elbow startled her from her reverie, and she looked up into Ignis's concerned eyes. She reached for his mind, holding that bright, calm prickling point of light close to hers.

 _It's okay. Just . . . remembering._

Noctis pressed his hand to the trunk of the white tree, and the now-familiar boom and crackle of thunder shook the stone beneath their feet, loosening thousands of tiny rocks from the high walls surrounding them. Laura fought the urge to roll her eyes. It was true she herself had a flair for the dramatic—it was almost a defining trait of the immortal—but the sight of Noctis standing stern and red-eyed against a backdrop of purple lightning striking through the black cavern appeared borderline ridiculous.

Laura heard Ignis's sharp intake of breath at the appearance of that sinister red glow now fading from Noctis's eyes, the horror clouding his mind at the sight of his childhood friend rendered unrecognizable by the power of his gods.

"Let's get outta here," Noct said in a low, strained voice when the glow had disappeared to reveal his weary blue. With heavy steps, he began trudging back the way they had come.

Ignis hesitated, debating whether he should say something, but seemed to think better of it and followed behind him. _What was that?_ he asked. _Was that the manifestation of the Mark of the Fulgurian?_

She sighed. Honestly, given the fucked up world they lived in where the people survived off the life forces of their leaders, she didn't understand why each of them hadn't learned this lesson the hard way already, particularly Ignis. When they'd first met, kindness _never_ came without cost in his mind—at least when he was the one on the receiving end of it. Every interaction rested on a scale that must be measured out to ensure that he owed no one anything in this world. It was an aspect of his personality Laura was still struggling with him to let go of from time to time, so why would the terms attached to authority figures override his life's philosophy? Had they not seen how badly Regis had suffered at the power of the Ring? How many of the Glaive bore the scars webbed across their bodies in payment of their more generous use of the King's magic? Did he not understand that his use of Noctis's bond with the Crystal also cost him?

 _He gives away a piece of himself each time he does this. Power_ always _comes at a cost,_ she reminded him.

 _Yes, but this is more a gathering of allies united in a single cause to reclaim the Crystal. It is just as much the gods' responsibility to protect this world and the stone as it is the Caelum and Fleuret lines. What concerns me is that we didn't even ask for a price._

"Eh, I expected more fire and brimstone," Prompto said, kicking at one of the stones as he jogged to catch up to Noctis.

 _Lunafreya is paying the price to call them._

 _An unfortunate side effect of the role of the Oracle._ He cast the back of Noctis's head a worried glance. _Just as His Majesty held up the Wall and supported the Glaive, so it will one day be Noct's lot to give his life that Lucis may endure._

"Some gods are friendlier than others, I guess," Gladio said.

 _Honestly, he doesn't have much of a choice_.

He sighed out loud. _No. He never did—ever since he was a child, he grew up knowing that Lucian kings were born to die. He's known so little of true happiness in his life with that knowledge weighing him down, though I did my best._

 _It doesn't seem as though any of you have seen much happiness_ , she replied, reaching out to run a hand across his shoulders _, all four of you, Lunafreya._ When her hand dropped to her side, he looked over at her significantly.

 _We manage to find some, in the moments in between._

"But not all of 'em," Noct mumbled. "Poor Luna."

"Perhaps you had better console her in person," Ignis suggested. "We must hasten to finish our tasks before joining her."

"It's just a boat ride away!" Prompto said. "Can't wait to actually get outta here and see the ocean!"

The sight that greeted them all as they finally stepped out into the light was a most welcome one after days of chasing the storm across Duscae—bright warm shafts of sunrays beaming through the trees in buttery yellow light; sparkling dew clinging to the tips of the trees, colored a vibrant, delicate green with new growth; fresh, earthy soil clearing their lungs of the cold, damp, mildewy cave.

Ignis let out the deep breath he had just taken in on a long sigh, the worry not at all wiped from his mind, but a serene expression settling across his formerly tense features.

"Hey, it stopped rainin—!" Prompto cheered, but the end of his shout was cut off by the rattling roar of some sort of cargo-class ship flying low over their heads.

"Up there!" Gladio yelled, pointing at the sky. "It's huge!"

As though on cue, Noctis's phone rang. He put it to his ear and listened to the woman on the other end. The twangy cadence of the caller's speech patterns suggested that it was likely Cindy.

"Ugh," Noctis groaned, closing his eyes. "Don't worry about it. We'll figure it out." He hung up and turned to them. "The Regalia's at an imperial base."

"And when do we retrieve her?" Ignis asked.

"I'd say 'now.'"

 _What is it with you all and that car? I understand it belonged to Regis, but given the choice between the car and your lives . . . we should have taken the courtesy car Cindy offered us._

 _You don't understand. In Insomnia, children hold their father's car in high esteem. It is considered a rite of passage for a child to be allowed in the front seat and shown how it works. A car represents the essence of the man himself._

She tilted her head, thinking. _So . . . saving the car is saving Regis._

 _Noct wasn't allowed the opportunity to save His Majesty when it mattered._ He looked away, his mental voice growing softer. _None of us were._

"Uh, you guys okay there?" Prompto asked, stepping in between them. "You're both acting kinda weird."

As much as she hated to, she had to ask, "You do know this is a trap, right?" She could never tell when this group was just insane and ready to spring a trap—a tactic she was almost always down for—or whether they were just so naïve that they took everything presented to them at face value. Their return to Insomnia after the Fall and camping with an immortal infected with Starscourge had proven to her that they had one or the other trait in reckless abundance; she just wasn't sure which.

"Of course it's a trap," Ignis replied. "But with a little planning, we may be able to arrange circumstances so that the trap snaps on the hand rather than the rodent's neck."

Somehow, she doubted it would be that simple. Ardyn was playing some sort of game—not only with her, but with all of them—helping them along and testing their mettle at the same time. But he hadn't made a true move just yet, so springing the trap it was. Perhaps they would get lucky, and he wouldn't even be present for this little heist of theirs.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Yes, Byrrus is squeaking on a giant loofa dog—probably made of rubber though, to be more bird proof.

I'm sure if you go around digging, you can easily find the fan theory this chapter begins to explore. Don't do that unless you want spoilers. They are credited in the appropriate chapters. These theories have been rejected by SquareEnix and are thus not canon. The image I describe in this chapter is often referred to as the Genesis painting if you want to look it up, but it is also directly embedded into the chapter in the AO3 version of this story.

There were a lot of strange theories floating around about this snake, but her true purpose was to hint that daemons were once people, which my boys already know. This is from the almanac entry for Fociaugh Hollow: _Perhaps coincidentally, several eyewitnesses say they spotted a woman marching toward the grotto a few weeks before the first incident was reported. The woman in question had allegedly lost her baby to a band of daemons and was presumably off in search of her stolen child. Any connection between these events, however, remains purely speculatory._


	33. Chapter 33

Though he was carefully watching every shift in her expression as he lazily meandered through the maze of shipping crates, scaffolding, armors, and tanks to catch a better glimpse of the little group unseen, he couldn't detect the precise moment she'd felt his presence. It was such a shame, really, that the goddess was playing coy with her abilities and not giving away her range of perception. He had hoped to learn more about the group of children posing as simple Crownsguard under the guise of being decoys. Honestly, did they believe they were fooling anyone with such nonsense beyond the uneducated provincials and the blinded imperial forces kept ignorant by his command alone?

But to Ardyn's disappointment, he'd discovered in Galdin that espionage had been made impossible because of the creature that accompanied the little prince and his retinue. His visit had been brief because he'd had to return to Insomnia to see his role in the invasion through, but _oh_ , he couldn't _resist_ sneaking down there for a spell and meeting his adversary face-to-face after so many years of waiting. If he hadn't been devastated to see with his own eyes the slack-jawed, spineless idiot with whom he was to be playing the ultimate game of wits with the sake of the entire world hanging in the balance, he certainly found himself cursing the gods once again for his lot in life after a few brief glimpses of their activities from a safe distance so that _she_ wouldn't detect him following.

But then he'd decided it hardly mattered, for what could she say about him? The Glacian was bound by her shame and her silence as she had been these last two thousand years, so he'd merrily joined the boys' roadtrip and gleaned for himself what he could up close and personally.

The intelligence he'd gathered had hardly been worthy of his effort.

The very moment he peered out from behind a large shipping container for the best view of the five of them, the girl's chin tilted slightly in his direction and dipped in silent greeting. Like him, she had chosen to ignore the infantile display of testosterone taking place in front of her in favor of a more entertaining game of cat and mouse. Given the gods' abilities, he wasn't at all surprised that she knew this strutting and posturing would bear no fruit. Even he knew the High Commander would never raise a sword to the boy with his sister's loyalties bound as they were.

He was curious and somewhat surprised, however, to find them precisely where he wished them to be. The children would undoubtedly feel a keen sting at the loss of Daddy's vehicle and wish to risk life and limb to get it back, but why had she allowed them to fall for such an obvious trap? The little temptress did seem fervent in that newfound sense of adventure of hers, or perhaps she simply wanted to play again. Like him, she was the only thing of her kind walking this dreary world among all these dimwitted leeches—surely she must have been growing bored and lonely with playing human by now and was yearning for a little excitement.

But perhaps not—perhaps she was playing a game of her own. He wondered what her angle really was. She could have told the boys that first moment they met in Galdin to steer clear of him, but she obviously hadn't said a word, as proven by their second meeting in Lestallum. The devious pretender must have been playing a game on both sides then, a nasty habit of the gods—toying with allies and enemies alike as puppets, forcing them to dance for their own unknowable amusement. Perhaps he could use her deception to his advantage—reveal her betrayal at just the right moment to obliviate the little King's trust in his allies and all hope of succeeding in a mission he hadn't even truly been informed of.

Ardyn's own puppet flicked his blade to the Shield's throat, halting his feeble attempt to protect his charge . . . without even a weapon in his hand. Apparently, the brainless brute had taken the historically jesting appellation "meat shield" literally. He found it quite interesting that the Advisor was the one to react most dramatically to the threat, while the Clone merely cowered behind them all and the girl crossed her arms over her chest and leaned into her hip, bored with the proceedings.

"Be still. All of you," the High Commander intoned, holding a hand out to the Advisor to stop him from . . . what exactly was the boy planning to do with his comrade held at the edge of a blade, a twitch of the wrist away from death? These foolish youths clearly had no sense when it came to those unyielding and ancient rules of engagement with a vastly superior foe. A waste of Ardyn's talents, the lot of them.

That the world was bequeathed to these moronic children was a crime against Eos. Much as he despised the kings of old, they'd had cunning, subtlety, power. Now the vim of his bloodline was watered down to this gormless child and his hodgepodge collection of misfits. All these years he'd waited as the world rose and fell around him, dancing and twisting to the tune he played; it was an insult to his efforts that he should have to exact his final revenge on this spoiled babe. Even the Father hadn't provided the entertainment or satisfaction he'd been hoping for; the elder Caelum had all but laid down and died like a sickly cur the moment the Empire had arrived. And the Son clearly hadn't suffered as Ardyn had hoped him to after experiencing a life without his grandfather, his mother, his nanny.

Had that idiot of a general managed to achieve both his objectives in Tenebrae and kill off the Father as well as the Queen, Lucis could have been a puppet of the Empire all these years as Tenebrae had become. But there was no use lamenting for lost opportunities. Ardyn had availed himself of the tumultuous time regardless of the failure—with all the personnel having gone missing from Lucis, it had been his only opportunity to test his powers on the Infernian and still return to Ghorovas in time to handle his wife's vengeance.

The little Prince clearly still needed tempering to burn off the chaff and transform him into a true King, and perhaps Ardyn could find some pleasure in that process.

His eyes narrowed in loathing as the Shield stepped in to protect the Prince from his puppet, like a loyal dog trained from birth to defend that which he wasn't even aware wasn't worth the effort. How many would offer to throw away their lives for this mildewed dishrag?

"The King's sworn Shield," the High Commander sneered.

The Idiot clenched his hammy fists at his sides. "You'd better believe it," he growled—like an animal.

Oh, to be young again and find these charming little displays appealing rather than dull. At least he wasn't alone in that regard, as the girl seemed just as eager to get to the main event as he.

Ardyn had always prided himself in his steadfast patience, the sort of patience that could only come from settling in for a vigil that would last two millennia. He used to sit at his mother's knee for hours waiting to hear news from the war between Solheim and the gods, fearing the Astrals would turn on his people as Ifrit had that mythical empire. As a youth, he'd passed on the tales to Somnus as they played war in the ruins—of the rivers running scarlet and black with blood and charred flesh from the Infernian's roiling wrath. He was only one of a handful to remember that his language had changed seemingly overnight, the only one to seek knowledge from those ruins left by a suddenly forgotten civilization and understand that his people had fallen into mysticism and barbarism—a label his dear brother had later taken on with pride for his part in obeying the gods. It had been Ardyn's honor to undo their efforts many years later, playing the part of the muse whispering the concepts of science in the ears of the founding emperors of Niflheim—guiding, molding, shaping—making use of his lifetimes of study and discovery to source them with Solheim's lost secrets of technology. The smallest snippets placed strategically here and there over the course of those two thousand years so as not to draw attention to himself, and he had planted the seeds that would blossom into the daring necessary to defy the gods themselves.

There was a reason why history forgotten was oft repeated.

But despite the disappointment that his nemesis in this game was but a wailing boy, his plans had succeeded thus far beyond his wildest hopes. The assassination of King Mors at the hands of an "outlander border patrol agent" had only tightened security and sealed the lid on the pot of suspicion and racism only just beginning to brew in Insomnia, facilitating its fall years later. Verstael Besithia had been honored as a war hero instead of executed as a blasphemer for his advancements in Magitek troops and his slaying the wrathful Shiva's Astral body, allowing for mass production of the newer models. And Ardyn still securely held the Infernian in his thrall with the very plague the gods had cursed Ardyn with all those years ago.

That the god had managed to be tricked into getting yet another body infected proved their weakness and stupidity—stunned asleep as they'd been after the minor matter of their family spat. Subduing his lover, who had awakened in a fit of rage and aegis for her lost husband and murdered pet queen, had been almost disappointingly simple—only a sacrifice of nearly all their Niflian forces had been required, but then, those had easily been replaced by the new Magitek units. Hardly a loss at all. _Oh_ , but it had given him such a delicious shiver of pleasure to watch the life leave her cold eyes at the point of the same weapon that had kindled the War of the Astrals. That the Emperor had grown ever more desperate with avarice for the abundance of resources in Lucis following the resulting climate shift merely increased his satisfaction. All that suffering, the people starving, as the vast deserts and lush forests of Niflheim transformed the into a tundra wasteland overnight—all at his hand.

It was as that suffering had flourished into the wailing of the destitute that the Emperor conceded to Ardyn's sighs for the use of daemon weaponry against the shining, wealthy city of Insomnia, despite the populace's distaste for the practice. He'd so easily deceived that old fool in culling that same populace to create the first MTs and diamond weapons strong enough to defeat the Old Wall and take back Ardyn's birthright. Encouraging the Scientist in creating his clones after a few successes had been merely a matter of course.

Yes, patience had defined his existence thus far. But now that Ardyn had succeeded in dismantling his own promised birthright and had both the Infernian and the Emperor in his thrall, this journey was reaching its inevitable conclusion. He found for the first time in his life, he was experiencing that unfamiliar edge of impatience to see it happen after all these years—whether the end would spell the sweet relief of eternal sleep at last or the complete destruction of all mankind at his ascension. Even he wasn't certain which he desired more at this point.

Nudging the boy and his friends along the path was to have been a simple matter, so weak were they. Even now, he watched as the Shield's knees collapsed under the sheer strength of his puppet's arm before the High Commander gut-punched him hard into the side of their precious car. The Clone rushed to his side like a mother hen, and the little Prince stepped bravely between them, summoning his Royal Armiger in yet another fruitless show of testosterone. Only seven Royal Arms after all this time? How disappointing. Yes, this would have been a dull matter indeed had it not been for _her_.

"Hey!" the boy grunted, flexing into the hero pose he'd no doubt practiced in the mirror since before his sac had dropped. "Wanna go? Let's do it."

He supposed, at least, the child was growing some gall under the Glacian's tutelage, which was intriguing, but then again, she herself had grown a prodigious amount of gall since last they'd met twelve years ago. It wouldn't have been the first time her temperament had drastically altered in the name of her lover. He'd attribute it to the fact that her Astral body had been lost in such a traumatic fashion, but that hadn't seemed to affect the Infernian's pliability. Perhaps this Messenger form of hers simply had a more dominant personality. Perhaps this had become personal between the two of them. What a delicious thought!

He'd known before he had even laid eyes on her that day in Galdin who she really was. Her Astral body destroyed, she'd had no choice but to migrate to her sub-pantheon of Messengers, the forms with which not even Ardyn was completely familiar beyond the one rumored to be living in Tenebrae. He couldn't understand why she'd chosen to reveal her High Messenger status yet continue to deny it so vehemently. He could smell it on her. She positively reeked with the power of Eos, and though he'd felt not the slightest twinge of pain nor pleasure in over two millennia, the concentration of it burned at his mind as he drew near, reminding him that he was the Anathema, the Accursed, the Unloved—as though he needed the reminder. He, after all, had been the one awake and moving in the world all these years, not they.

His puppet's voice grew soft and contemplative. "Should the Chosen fall, that, too, is fate."

It almost sounded as though the child might actually intend to do some damage—and good for him! It was about time the bleating little lamb grew a pair, but then that was his cue to step in and save the princeling, to play the hero and keep them guessing. Even if his charade was only maintained at _her_ mercurial good graces, toying with his adversaries was his last source of entertainment in these troubled times.

"I'd say that's far enough. A hand, Highness?" he asked with a simpering sneer, sauntering lazily from behind a tanker truck. He held out a hand to stop the Advisor lunging at him. How amusing to watch him clench his fists and lean forward as though he were actually capable of doing some damage! The child had truly believed he was being subtle and intelligent when he'd planned this little break-in of theirs, Ardyn imagined. Such a shame that even this most promising boy had proven himself a disappointment.

Ardyn's curiosity had been piqued on first examination of him—and not only because he so closely resembled the Infernian that he'd had to check the boy's aura and determine for himself he was but a mere mortal. The elder Caelum's elevation of his status, lifting him from the inauspicious dregs of society to become Sword-Sworn to the Chosen, the hovering presence of the Glacian, who had to have noticed the similarity to her husband . . . it was as though the threads of fate were conspiring to drag this boy into the spotlight against his will.

He idly wondered whether she was fucking the boy for memory's sake, but surely not, considering what event had landed them all in this mire to begin with.

But to be a scholarly man out here in the wild, summoning weapons and sleeping among the animals like a barbarian, the boy must have possessed more resourcefulness and dedication than even the Shield to stray so far from his true nature. The Advisor reminded Ardyn of himself at that age—the elder brother, the healer, the sage, the more talented, the ignored and overlooked. What had the Prince done to inspire such loyalty with nothing given in return?

"Not from you," the Prince muttered.

Well, it wasn't the boy's oratory skills that inspired them, that was certain. But perhaps there was something there he could use, some vulnerability he could press against and spark a betrayal just as between two brothers so long ago. It was forgotten history, after all, and forgotten history had a tendency to be repeated.

"Oh, but I'm here to help," he replied sincerely.

"And how is that?" the Advisor cut in.

Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if this boy tied the Prince's boots in the morning—protective and mothering as he was. Not even the Shield was standing this close in such a defensive posture. If the Prince were ever to be forged into a king, the Advisor would certainly have to be taken out of the picture somehow—either turned traitor or killed—perhaps at the same time Ardyn finally tired of toying with the Prince's own personal goddess.

"By taking the army away."

He turned on his heel, casually strolling to where she stood looking up at him through her eyelashes with a come-hither smolder. Allowing his voice to drop and soften, he leaned in to speak, noting that she didn't pull back in the slightest from his presence. Did she truly not fear at all how quickly and easily he could infect her?

"When next we meet, it'll be across the seas."

She snorted indelicately, her head nearly brushing his chest as she bent to laugh. It had been a very long time indeed since someone had been foolhardy enough to show him the back of their neck. The man had paid dearly for his mistake. Curbing the sudden desire to run his fingertips around the long braid that wrapped around her skull before reaching up with his other hand to grasp her jaw and snap her neck in two, he waited for her faux mirth to subside. He wasn't yet ready to reveal his true nature to the retinue, and why spoil the fun they were both having? Patience.

"What?" she chuckled as she straightened, rolling her eyes. "Where you plan to ask me out on a date for hot dogs and ice cream?"

This, right here, was the game for which he'd decided to keep her alive. After seeing her in Galdin for the first time, he'd originally intended to get her alone and scourge her right away in Lestallum, perhaps use her to pick off the retinue one by one as they traveled closer to Gralea. He could use the might of one of the Six condensed into a body that hadn't yet grown conspicuous. But then those first words had issued from her mouth—brazen, fiery, and flirtatious instead of frigid and boring. He'd never known her to be like that, had never known any being mortal or immortal to withstand the abomination that was his aura long enough to be aught but disgusted or suspicious of him. She'd suddenly made this farce diverting, and it wasn't as though she could do him permanent harm.

It was a sign he'd been too long on this world that he no longer considered even the gods worthy adversaries.

Until he'd met her, weariness had weighed down his bones and apathy had settled in his mind like a cancer. He'd grown tired of these frivolous mortals, with their brief lives and everything in them they found important—mere _things_ like food, family, wealth, and land. There had been nothing left that this world could offer him. He'd beaten it already. The rest was merely down to details. But then she'd gazed into his eyes with her ancient ones blazing with that spark of mischief—a wordless offer to play, a challenge at last. She might have been the Ice Mother, but now? She was so very full of fire, and he always did love to toy with fire.

He was about to tell her that he preferred something a bit bloodier for his repast, but she cut him off before he could utter a sound.

"You know what? I'm getting a little tired of you running hot and cold on me, so why don't we cut to the chase?"

"And what did you have in mind, my dear?" he purred. He had _no_ idea where this conversation was headed, but he was thrilled to find out. Would she reveal her identity here and now? In front of the children?

Her hand flashed out suddenly, grasping for his lapel and yanking him down toward her face. He allowed the manhandling—he found the sensation rather intriguing, as it had been the first time in memory anyone had voluntarily touched him out of aught but violence. She leaned up on her toes, her cheek nearly brushing his as the scent of wild time washed over him. That burn intensified, and he had to clench his fists to keep from summoning every weapon in his Royal Armiger and slicing that body of hers to ribbons—and wasn't that a curious desire? Perhaps his hatred ran deeper than he'd realized.

Her breath tickled at his hair as her seductive murmur reached his ear. "I . . . am an alien from outer space. Take me to your leader."

He shoved her away from him much harder than was strictly necessary, but she only staggered two steps back until the Shield caught her around the shoulders. Her eyes glittered like lapis jewels as she grinned with the abandon that could only spring from the edge of insanity.

Did she truly think she could fool him with such childish nonsense? As she'd drawn closer, he could practically taste the power of Eos on her; he could have licked it straight off her cheek as she uttered her damnable falsehoods, bold and impertinent in his ear. How stupid did she think he was?

"Oh, you'll most certainly meet the leader, my dear." He clenched his jaw for a brief moment before continuing in a more honeyed tone, "and you'll see for yourself just what a _wicked_ end he has wrought for you."

Perhaps the loss of her husband, the loss of her body, and the time spent bouncing back and forth between her two Messenger forms at the sides of the King and Oracle had addled the goddess's mind. No matter her malady, she'd needed reminding of the damage he could do to her should he choose. For whatever stakes she was playing this game, she _must_ remember that he was the coeurl and she the arba in this scenario, and _oh_ what fun he would have in hunting her down!

Slipping back into his usual cadence, he turned to the Prince and said, "Fare thee well, Your Majesty." With an elegant dismissal to the incensed puppet, he added, "And safe travels."

"You guys . . . know that guy?" he heard the Gunslinger quaver as he sauntered away with the High Commander.

The Walking Encyclopedia replied automatically, as though the boy couldn't help himself, "Ravus Nox Flueret—first son of Tenebrae . . . and elder brother to Lady Lunafreya."

"Have you managed to locate our dear Oracle yet, High Commander?" Ardyn asked as they strolled unhurriedly to the awaiting Magitek engine.

"No," he replied in a clipped tone. "She and the Ring continue to elude us."

"Oh, dear. How unfortunate," he fretted. "How ever shall we summon the Tidemother without the Oracle?"

"I'm certain she'll appear the moment _Prince Noctis_ arrives," he spat.

Did this boy truly believe he was fooling anyone? His clear disdain for the Prince of Lucis was genuine, certainly, but not even the idiotic Emperor believed that he would hunt down his own sister and drag her back into the hands of the Empire.

But he was right about one thing: the Oracle would appear at her fiancé's side for the Revelation of Leviathan. At which point, she would no longer be of any use. The Infernian was under his command, the Glacian soon would be, and the Draconian would likely draw the Chosen directly into his sanctuary—there were no more gods with whom to forge a covenant. And as for the Glacian—Ardyn would continue to play with her until that time as well, just to see what she would do. Perhaps they would all be at the altar together, and he could turn her and use her to kill the Oracle. With any luck, the Advisor would refuse to betray his precious princeling, and she could watch through the eyes of her possessed body as he used her to kill her dear husband's facsimile with her bare hands.

 _Till death do we part, indeed._

A death in Cartanica and perhaps a family reunion for the Clone would leave the poor helpless Prince alone, so thirsty for the Crystal's power that he'd leap into it himself and be reborn of his own revenge.

Ardyn took a deep breath, the corner of his lips raising in a satisfied smirk. So very soon now.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

There is absolutely nothing canon about the timeline of events mentioned in this chapter. The War of the Astrals; the fall of Solheim; Ardyn's childhood; his wandering the world; the deaths of Mors, Aulea, and Shiva; the turning of Ifrit—all has been restructured to fit this story.

The fan theories I used to help rewrite Ardyn's history will be credited when all is revealed.


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note:**

For the part about Noct's vision, you'll need to see the full Omen trailer, not just the one that was played in the game. Since I can't hyperlink on FFN, you can go to YouTube and search for FFXV Omen trailer.

* * *

Not a single drop of rain slapped against the windshield as Ignis sped his way toward Lestallum that evening, though the tires hissed as they cut their route on the wet asphalt. Ignis gritted his teeth and forced the rest of his face to relax as he kept his eyes fixed ahead.

"How are you feeling?" Laura asked from the back seat.

Noct sighed, the length of the exhalation suggesting that he'd emptied his lungs completely to give himself time to come up with an answer. "Like I just got hit by a truck. Don't think I can summon gods like that often."

 _Do you have any idea what you've done?_ Ignis ground out in the lowest, calmest tone he could manage, though for the first time in his life, he felt there was no point whatsoever in maintaining his composure. Laura could likely feel the ache in his knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel, the tension in his neck, and his blood beating against his veins. Temptation whispered that he should just shout at her and release his fury openly if she sensed it anyway. She'd always encouraged him to be himself around her; let her witness the worst of his tempestuous temper and see if she still loved him. But a lifetime of habit and his perfectly polished veneer of civility compelled him to remain a gentleman.

Or perhaps he was merely clinging to something familiar in the middle of what was probably the oddest argument he'd ever had with anyone.

"Yeah, but the way Ramuh just picked you up and ZAP!" Prompto exclaimed, slapping the back of Gladio's seat. "Good thing his bolts passed over us, or we woulda been barbecued."

He glanced up at the rearview mirror in time to see Laura's already troubled expression pinching further down into a frown. Some indefinable emotion passed over their connection, though he got the sense her reaction was in response to Prompto's words, not his. Was this her private expression of disdain for the Six, or did Ramuh's levelling of the base not pass as harmlessly over her as it had the rest of them? He had admittedly been too distracted by the awesome power of destruction that had been released over his defenseless flesh, and she had _seemed_ fine afterward along with everyone else.

 _You yourself told me to go for patronizing lies, and I couldn't think of a lie more patronizing than the truth._

 _That was most certainly_ not _what I had in mind._

"And then I can't believe you said, 'Take me to your leader,'" Prompto giggled. "I mean, that was freaking epic!"

"Yes, of everything that happened this morning," Ignis replied dryly, careful to adopt a light tone, " _that_ was the most epic."

"You got some balls, Laura, I'll give you that," Gladio said with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face and staring blankly toward the horizon in the direction of Lestallum.

Remembering that Gladio was growing impatient to make it to the city and check on Lady Iris, Ignis eased his foot down on the gas pedal a little. They had already delayed three days after receiving the Fulgurian's blessing to travel to Aracheole and plan the break-in, as well as to obtain the Shield of the Just from nearby. Fortunately, the second errand had been merely a matter of opening the door, for once, but that meant it had been half a week since they'd last heard from any of their contacts in Lestallum.

"Ya gotta admit, Specs, the look on Ardyn's face was priceless," Noct agreed.

 _And of course I still love you when you're angry with me. Feel free to rage all you like, if it will make you feel better._

 _Good to know, because I'm_ not _finished. I could taste it this time, Rose—his scourge, his immortality—something is wrong with that man. He's clearly clever enough to have made it this long. What if he dares to imagine your absurdity is truth?_

"I'm just glad it's still a saying on this planet. The comedic impact would've been lost had it not been," she said with a casual laugh that only made him clench his teeth together a little more tightly. _I've spent lifetimes watching humans deny the existence of aliens right under their noses. Hell, keeping it a secret from an entire planet was my job once. Can you imagine the stretch he'd have to make to apply a fictional concept to something he already has a clear explanation for?_

 _You may be correct, but I don't care for the cost if you aren't. His interests may lie in assisting us now, but he could kill you the moment you no longer present a mystery._

 _I am not without my own defenses, you know. Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus, as they say._

He may not have understood her words in the classical sense, but their connection allowed him to feel the general meaning—that one shouldn't provoke a threat when it is sleeping. He wondered at the statement's implications, a stirring of fear and anticipation making his gut quiver, but still . . .

 _The same could be said of him._

"Rargh," Gladio snarled, slapping his phone with a finger to hang it up.

Laura leaned forward to place a hand on his shoulder. "We're almost there." _Did you understand what he said to me after? The tone of his voice implied his words held some special significance, but I didn't get it._

 _I didn't either, no._

"Can you tell me the second we get close enough to feel her mind?" Gladio asked.

"Of course. I don't know her as well as I know you guys, so my range is shorter with her, but I promise, I'll tell you the very moment I feel her." _I'm sure it was some sort of religious hint. All his others have been._

Which meant that he _should_ have understood the message's meaning. Admittedly, his purview of religious study only extended to that which he was personally invested in the most, Messengers and the prophecy, but what good was a lifetime of research if only the information he hadn't yet encountered was what mattered most in real-life application?

For all his years of learning, clearly, he should have done better.

 _It's possible the reference is from one of the lost books of the Cosmogony, or even some private conversation with the Glacian herself, given his age. I apologize I can't be of more use than that._

 _You can't expect_ _to know everything about everything in the world in your twenties, Ignis. Stop beating yourself up over this. Even if only privately, it isn't helping anything._

He let out a soft sigh and forced his hands to relax on the wheel, but his every mistake over these past weeks still cycled over and over in his head. She had a point—growing agitated wouldn't do any good, but reviewing past errors was how he learned not to repeat them.

 _I still can't believe I didn't recognize him as the Chancellor in the first place. He gave us his name for gods' sakes. You would think_ some _intelligence report would've contained it._

Laura leaned further over the front seat into Ignis's indirect line of sight, doing her best to rest her chin on Gladio's shoulder and wrap an arm around his chest despite their height difference. _Like I said—stop that. The Prince and the Shield are no less responsible than you for recognizing enemy diplomats. Besides, it isn't as though that knowledge would've changed anything. We knew he was bad news when we camped with him._

 _I suppose . . . an opportunity to observe one's enemy in close quarters._

To Ignis's surprise, Gladio reached up with both hands to grip Laura's arm as though it were a lifeline. His head drooped so that his lips rested against the inside of her elbow, and the deep sigh he emitted didn't sound at all like the Gladio that Ignis had come to know out here. It sounded helpless and defeated.

He was still growing accustomed to this concept of duality in conversation—holding two completely different dialogues with two sets of emotions that often conflicted drastically with one another. Often, he would have to pause and recall precisely what was last said in that particular conversation before responding, which had earned him more than one odd look in the last few days.

With the introduction of Gladio's apparent anguish, he found his fire with Laura fading to concern for his friend instead. _Is he all right?_

 _No. He's taken a lot of personal hits lately. Guilt for the day you died. This Ravus thing hit him harder than he's letting on, and if he loses anyone from his house, it'll be yet another thing he's failed at. And that's not even taking into consideration the loss of his father._

 _I understand he's worried for Lady Iris, Jared, and Talcott, but this is uncharacteristically vulnerable for him, even considering the circumstances._

 _Well, your culture appears to take pride in the self-sufficiency of masculinity typical of 20_ _th_ _-century Earth. It would seem that just with those humans, women are an exception to the façade—or maybe that's just you four._

 _What can we do for him?_ he asked, filing away the information to ask about later. It wasn't often she commented on the nature of Insomnian society, but her observations as an outsider often illuminated behaviors and ways of thinking he had previously taken for granted.

 _I don't know. It's not as though this was a test of combat skills. It was muscle against muscle, and I can't help him with that._

 _He seems to have no issue with you beating him so frequently._

Careful not to lean forward out of Laura's grasp, Gladio reached for the radio dial—a nervous tick, Ignis had learned, for when he was feeling helpless and frustrated. He mindlessly flicked over the handful of radio stations playing outdated hits from Insomnia, concerts from Accordion masters, and recent tunes from the Empire. Predictably, he stopped on the news channel that covered the northwest Duscaean and northeast Cleignese provinces.

 _It's different with me. I was endorsed by Cor, and then I wasn't even human. To not be able to protect Noctis from his enemies is shaking him down to his foundation, making him question his life's purpose._

He pondered some sort of solution to the problem, but a woman's voice cut into his thoughts, distracting him. _"Be sure to tune in later tonight: Things That Make You Say 'Hmmmm.' Here's what our first listener had to say: 'Is it me, or is the sun setting really early lately?'_

" _And in other news: At long last, imperial blockades of_ _Duscaen_ _roadways have been removed."_

"No shit," Noct muttered.

Ignis frowned up at the rearview mirror, though he was unable to see Noct's face from this angle. "Language, Highness."

"Whatever."

 _"The imperial army has also demolished all related facilities erected around the region. The provisional government of Insomnia was unavailable for comment, but we can anticipate increased traffic congestion along most local highways._

" _And in response to concerns among Cleigne locals over the sudden disappearance of the Meteor from the Disc of Cauthess, Lestallum-based EXINERIS has released a statement assuring continued power supply in all regions. However, due to unstable terrain, investigations of the former Meteor site have stalled, and it may take some time before the truth is brought to light."_

"Oh, sh—yeah," Prompto said over a statement about the skies over Duscae clearing. "We should find Holly when we get to Lestallum and tell her it's still there . . . just, ya know, in pieces."

"The news will reassure citizens that there's nothing to be broken up about, at the very least," Ignis commented.

"Shh!" Gladio hissed, jerking forward to turn up the volume.

 _"A new development has surfaced in the story of the raid on Aracheole Stronghold. The army has reportedly seized four male suspects in Lestallum and transferred them to the Empire for further questioning."_

"WHAT?" Noct demanded.

 _"Pressed about rumors of the reportedly deceased Lucian crown prince's involvement in the attack, an imperial spokesperson passed them off as absurd."_

Gladio switched the radio off and turned to growl at him, "Iggy."

Ignis pressed his foot down further on the gas pedal. "On it."

They were drawing close—the tunnel columns whipped by, displacing the air at regular intervals like a drumbeat announcing their imminent arrival.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Prompto asked. "I mean—obviously that wasn't us, so it's gotta be just another lie."

"They can lie about who they took, but too many witnesses to lie about the army being in the city," Gladio said.

"Which means Iris and the others are at considerable risk," Ignis added.

Noct sucked in a quick breath through his nose. "Those women at Wiz's . . . they wanted us caught so the blockades would end. Someone might tell the soldiers they know us. Specs, just park at the station this time. Closer to the hotel that way."

"Certainly."

A sense of foreboding overtook him as they passed through the tunnel and past the plaza that served as the mouth of La Vía Vieja. A glimpse of the deserted street before it whipped by revealed dozens of white banners decorated with the red crest of Niflheim hanging from the sides of buildings and balconies. They swayed eerily in the light breeze creeping through the quiet plaza.

"Something's wrong," Noct said unnecessarily as Ignis sped through the normally crowded streets.

No matter the time of day or night, Lestallum was always a bustling hub of activity. All of the shops and most of the food stalls were open twenty-four hours, and the smoke and scent of cooking meat wafting from the open-air grills would settle in a haze on the main road, making it difficult to see. The sidewalk cafes were always overflowing with patrons drinking beer or coffee and arguing over which stall sold the best skewers, though in Ignis's opinion, the answer was obvious.

"It's so quiet," Prompto murmured. "Even the music . . ."

It had taken them days to grow used to the incessant soundtrack of street musicians, even after a lifetime spent in the capital of buskers that was Insomnia, because they were always picking up a tune and running with it, playing the same melody repeatedly for hours on end until the block party they'd started overflowed the corner on which they were playing. The lights, noise, and smells had grown on them to become a welcomed, cheery sight the week they'd used the city as their base of operations, a relief after the dark desperation of daemon hunting in the world beyond.

But in the light of the setting sun, during what should have been the busiest business hours of the evening, the overturned chairs scattered among the empty tables stood out in stark contrast to the usually lively atmosphere. Charred and blackened meat sat cold on barely smoking grills, but the noxious acrid smoke still clung to Ignis's nostrils as they passed the Overlook. Not a single pedestrian stepped in front of their car or wandered into the middle of the road expecting them to stop and wait for them to decide whether they wished to cross.

It was a ghost town.

"What happened here?" Ignis asked under his breath, turning into the small lot just beyond the Coernix station pumps. The mini-mart windows were dark, so he doubted there would be anyone about to tow the car for illegal parking.

"I _felt_ her, Gladio," Laura said emphatically as Ignis angled the car, threw it into reverse, and jerked it into the first of the four spaces, "just for a moment. I think she's all right, but frightened."

"Oh, thank fuck," Gladio blew out on a sigh.

The other four leapt out of the car before Ignis could get the top up and the doors locked. While Gladio paced back and forth along the length of the Regalia and Prompto jogged up to the mini-mart to peer through the front windows, Noct leaned in close to Laura.

"You got any hints? Are people hurt?"

She shook her head. "I mean, it's not like I can do a population census or anything, but it feels like people are okay in general, just terrorized and holed up in their homes."

"Hey guys?" Prompto called from the mart's front door. "You uh . . . should probably see this."

"Hurry it up!" Gladio barked.

Ignis, Noct, and Laura rushed to the windows, one of which had clearly been broken by a sharp blow with a blunt object. As though a fist had hit the glass with enormous force, a web of cracks spread out from a single epicenter just to the left of the door. Beneath the thickest cracks, Ignis could just make out the words of a hand-lettered sign still taped to the inside.

 _We here at Coernix would not be in operation were it not for the years of loyalty our customers have shown us. Today, we return that loyalty by no longer selling Archaean feet or beads at any of our Duscaean locations._

"It appears as though someone took objection to their decision," Ignis pointed out, nodding to the broken glass.

"But why would someone do that?" Noct asked.

"I imagine the people are split after the Archaean's trial—those who believe he has betrayed humanity and those who believe the Empire has betrayed the gods."

Prompto bit his lip before stepping away from the front door. "And that's not all."

Hastily scrawled with what was probably a finger dipped in dripping red paint was a single word across the glass.

 _BLASPHEMER_

"Come on," Laura muttered. "We need to get to Iris."

Skipping over the main thoroughfare, the five of them rushed through the deserted back alley, doing their best to catch glimpses into shuttered windows or one of the main streets as they passed to gather any clue as to what might have happened to the once vibrant city. Not a single inhabitant met them or stopped their hasty search, but the imperial flags flying from every balcony painted a clear image to Ignis. He was careful not to stray too far from Laura, lest he break their connection, and was glad to have her observations added to his own. Not only did she also notice the overturned bead cart, but her eyes caught on fresh graffiti scribbled on walls and notices taped to shop doors.

 _Boycott Fallstar Foods—named after the meteor!_

 _The Empire does not speak for us all. Your faith is being tested. Do not stray from the path!_

 _Damned if you do. Damned if you don't._

 _This was all foretold. Read the book of Revelations._

 _I don't know who to believe._

"Why wasn't this on the news?" Prompto asked in a quiet, trembling voice.

"The Empire may not control all media outlets, particularly Meteor Publishing, but they appear to control all radio stations we've been listening to," Ignis answered.

"Is there something we can do to help?" Noct asked, eyeing the lonely fountain in the middle of Leville Square—the only source of sound in the area. "We gotta do something. This is all because of the covenants."

Ignis took the steps up to the Leville two at a time and let out a breath as the door opened when he pulled on the handle. "Our first goal is to check in with Lady Iris and understand what has happened, but due to the absence of a threat at the moment, there isn't much we can do."

Gladio finally lost his patience and ran ahead as they passed through the foyer and up the staircase, though Ignis slowed to remain close to Laura, who paused at the base of the stairs to give the frightened-looking desk clerk a nod.

"We'll be right back down."

"Ana told me to send for her if you all show up again. I'm sorry. I don't have a choice."

"Do what you have to do; we understand. Just—if you can, warn us if it sounds like she's ringing the Empire."

The young man nodded shakily. "Will do, but it would take her a while. Communications are out."

"Okay. We have to go, but thanks, Luis."

Ignis waited until she had started up the stairs before asking, _Ana the EXINERIS plant manager?_

 _Yes, and local authority here in Lestallum._

 _Will that pose a problem?_

 _I'm not sure. Loyalty out here is earned through one's actions, and we've done her and her people a lot of favors since we arrived here._

 _So it all depends on what the Empire has done for her lately._

 _Precisely._

They slowed as they reached the open door of the suite Lady Iris had been sharing with Jared and Talcott since they'd fled Insomnia all those weeks ago. Deep, unrestrained sobbing floated out into the silent hall, and when they cleared the doorway, Ignis immediately spotted Iris engulfed in Gladio's arms, her shoulders hitching from the force of her distress.

"Oh, Gladdy! The Empire c-came while you guys were g-g-gone. They took our ph-phones! None of us said a word about Noct. They just showed up and then . . . oh my gods, Jared. I can't believe it, Jared."

As though just sensing that someone else had entered the room, Iris lifted her head from Gladio's chest to look at them. Thick, black trails of mascara had dried on her pale cheeks, and even as she regarded the two of them with a lost, hopeless expression, a fresh wave dripped down to her chin.

"What do you mean? What happened to Jar—?!" Gladio demanded, his whiskey-colored eyes growing hard, but Iris cut him off.

"There was nothing we could do!" she cried out, shoving him away.

 _Oh god, Ignis._

 _He's been killed, hasn't he?_

"Soldiers had this entire place on lockdown. For _days_ , I tried to find a way to contact you, but they were watching everyone in the hotels especially—strangers. Then this man came, and he was asking us all kinds of questions about you guys, and . . ."

"Did he hurt you? Where's Talcott?"

Her dark eyes fell closed, and she shook her head. "He's in the bedroom, but Jared . . . he stepped in before . . . and then . . ."

A fresh wave of sobbing overtook her, and Gladio yanked her by the shoulders to pull her into his arms again, frowning down into her dark hair.

She didn't need to continue for Ignis to guess at what had happened. Just as Ignis was currently considered Noct's chamberlain, so had Jared long held his position as chamberlain for the Amicitia family, perhaps even for Gladio's grandfather. A chamberlain was to act in his master's stead as the head of the house while their lord tended to matters for the king—seeing to his finances, hiring other members of staff, coordinating with various contacts to manage his master's schedule. It wasn't technically a chamberlain's responsibility to see to the household's children, but Ignis imagined that as a true head of household, Jared had likely acted as Gladio and Iris's father in the Duke's stead.

Ignis, of course, would one day take on additional responsibilities once Noct had ascended—more official duties in his capacity as Lord Chamberlain of the Royal Household—including acting as the liaison between the Council and the King, but considering the nature of how Noct and Ignis had been raised, he expected he would likewise be advisor and guide to Noct and Lunafreya's children someday.

He knew only too well what a chamberlain placed with the care of the last remnants of one of the most important noble families of Lucis would do when one of its heirs was threatened by the very enemy that had killed their king—the same thing he himself would have done. It wouldn't have mattered for a moment to Jared that physical protection was not his job or that he was far too old and without training to stand up to imperial soldiers.

An invisible weight pressed down on his lungs, restricting his next breath so that it caught on a quiet shudder. Tears began to burn at the corners of his eyes, forcing him to bite the inside of his cheek to keep them from gathering. What on Eos was the matter with him? He was sympathetic to Gladio and Iris's loss, but he could find within himself no explanation for this anguish. He'd hardly known the man.

At the thought, the feeling was wiped from his heart, though remnants of its essence remained as though of the stain of despair still lingered.

 _I'm sorry,_ Laura said quietly. _Mine . . . everyone else's here, on top of yours. It was too much for you. I cut off your connection to it._

Ignis nodded his understanding, taking a step closer to her side to share solace in her warm presence. He ached for House Amicitia's loss, so soon after losing its patriarch. Jared might not have been present to see for himself the hole he had left behind, but the magnitude of Gladio and Iris's grief was a measure of how great an impact he had made in life.

Ignis didn't fear death, though of course he would rather not die if he could help it. Having survived the experience once already and allowed time to contemplate it, he realized the impression one left behind in the hearts of those who had cared for him was the most important measure of a man. Vain though it likely was, Ignis did not wish to be forgotten. He wanted to be remembered as a man of dedication, thoughtfulness, usefulness. He wanted to be missed when his time finally came.

In watching a family's reaction to losing its chamberlain, Ignis couldn't help but wonder for a fleeting moment in the very deepest, most secret part of his soul whether his own loss would have dealt this great a wound. But no. Now was not the time for thinking of such nonsense. Now was the time for mourning the loss of a good, intelligent man who had served his liege lord well and died in service.

The door just to his right creaked as it pushed outward ever so slightly, and Ignis's hands automatically tensed as the rest of them whirled, preparing to draw their weapons on the potential threat.

 _Talcott,_ Laura explained, and he relaxed his stance.

Noct, whose position allowed him the best view of the crack in the doorway, held out a hand to the others to stop them summoning weapons and crept forward. A faint sniffling from behind the door grew louder as he squatted down. The door swung open, and the rest of the occupants of the room took in a collective breath at the sight of young Talcott trembling in the open doorway to the kitchen with his fists clenched at his sides. Doubtless the poor lad's fingernails were digging into his palms as he began to lose his composure at the sight of his prince falling to his knees to look up at him. His sniffles grew to barely contained gasping sobs.

"It's . . . not right," Noct said in a grim, choked voice that made Ignis wonder whether his own father's death was fueling this rare display of emotion. After all, Noct had barely known Jared, either. "We should've been here."

"I—I couldn't stop them," Talcott sobbed.

It was a ridiculous sentiment, of course, just as it would have been ridiculous for Noct to have been present for the invasion. In the face of such a vastly superior foe, the child would have been killed immediately had he attempted anything beyond the struggle he'd likely put up. But Noct was right. Unlike in the Fall, the five of them _could_ have been here for this; they could have saved Jared's life had they not taken so long to track down the Fulgurian.

 _You're being just as ridiculous as he is,_ Laura said gently. _We had no way of knowing, and even if we'd managed to get here in time, Niflheim had this entire city under its control. They could have used anyone as a hostage to get us to submit._

She had a point, but still—he couldn't help but feel disgust for the weaknesses that had resulted in a loss or a draw nearly every time they engaged their enemy directly. How would they ever win back the Crystal at this rate?

 _It's possible to commit no mistakes and still lose, Ignis. That's not a weakness; that is life._

"But I won't let the Empire get away with it," Noct said, the quiet murmur belying the thick layer of steel hidden beneath the surface of his tone and in his eyes. But his words began to catch on the strength of his emotion as he added, "They'll pay for what they've done. I promise."

All these years, and Ignis had searched for the man hidden within the boy, the king buried within the prince. He had searched for Noctis Lucis Caelum, son of Regis Lucis Caelum, with every lecture urging him to do better, with every task set and every request made. But it had taken this young boy losing his home and his grandfather to finally force him to confront all that he'd gotten quite good at ignoring over the years.

 _There's the King,_ Ignis said with pride.

 _Mmm,_ Laura hummed, but there was disapproval in her tone that he refused to acknowledge. He already knew that their definitions of justice differed, and for now, they had agreed to disagree on it.

"I . . . believe in you, Prince Noctis," Talcott sobbed quietly. He bowed his head in deference to royalty kneeling before him and turned to go, but Laura stepped forward and held her arms out to him. Ignis felt their connection stretch like a rubber band as she took another step forward, before the stress of the distance became too much, and the light of her mind faded from his to leave a dull ache behind.

"No, Talcott, stay with us."

But as the boy turned and threw his arms around Laura's neck, an image slammed into his mind's eye, stronger than he'd ever experienced. Dim blue light filtered through grey fabric walls, offering him no quarter from the terrifying cries in the dark. He remembered not being able to breathe. Then her voice cut through the terror and called his name—a buoy thrown to a helpless child quietly drowning in a sea of his own fear. He could almost feel her shoulders beneath his arms, her fingers running through his hair. It was the first time he could recall anyone showing him kindness without demanding a price.

He shuddered at the phantom sensation before chasing the memory away. No longer was he a lost, helpless child, and neither was Rose what he'd thought her to be. He moved aside to allow her to lead Talcott to the couch and pull him into her lap, and as the rest of them settled into seats nearby, he stepped toward the kitchen door.

"I'll put the kettle on."

Ignis may have preferred coffee no matter the time of day or night, but he found nothing more settling than the liturgy of making tea when people were upset. The soothing rumble of the kettle as it came to a boil, the gentle clink of porcelain as he arranged everything he needed on the tray, the aroma of his own personal blend as he set it to steep—he was almost at peace by the time he pushed through the kitchen door into the living room. He stepped behind the room divider and set the tray on the coffee table. The fresh aroma of Kettier ginger, Duscaean orange peel, and just a touch of honey filled the room as he poured each person a cup and listened to the memories of a good man being shared among family.

"He was always there for me whenever I needed him, ever since I could remember," Iris said tearfully. "He used to make me Moogle Mog Mousse every time I had a bad day at school. That wasn't even his job."

"Yeah," Gladio muttered, looking down at the floor, "There was this one time I took Dad's good sword to training when I wasn't supposed to. Brought the wrong bag home by accident, and he drove all the way out to the Citadel to get it before Dad could find out. Roasted me himself for it though—probably worse than Dad would've. But he always had our backs."

"And he still does. Did you know he'd already sent Cid and Cindy down to Caem before you called? Turns out the old boat's still there, and they're working on it now. He knew you'd be needing it to get to Altissia."

"Wow," Prompto said softly. "He really thought of everything."

"Yeah," Noct agreed. "So we get a room and spend the night . . . wait. Are Dustin and Monica back from the Disc yet?"

Iris nodded. "They came back a couple of hours ago, but they've been helping EXINERIS and the Hunters with the riots and communications. It's been kind of a mess here."

"Well, we're getting you out of the city," Gladio said, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. "You and Talcott can head to Caem with Dustin and Monica tomorrow."

"Good. We can't just sit here and do nothing. But what about you guys?"

Gladio looked to Noct, whose eyes turned hard and glittering. "We got some stuff we gotta handle first, but we'll be right behind you."

Having finished with pouring and serving the tea, Ignis straightened. "I shall make the arrangements for a room immediately, Highness."

"Go ahead and get a smaller room," Gladio said. "Think I'm gonna stay here tonight."

"As you wish."

Laura sat up a little, frowning when Talcott didn't move from his position beneath her arm. From his heavy, half-lidded appearance, it looked to Ignis like the exhausted child was about to fall asleep right there on the couch with her.

"Do you need my help?" she asked quietly. "I think Ana just arrived. Only met her the one time, so I can't be certain."

"I'll handle it."

There was indeed a woman standing at the check-in counter next to the trembling Luis when Ignis stepped off the stairs into the lobby. The clerk nodded in Ignis's direction, and the woman turned to look him over, raising her chin haughtily. He assessed her in turn, noting that her caramel-colored curls had frizzed over from working in the heat, that her thermal suit was so worn that its upper layers were beginning to flake and peel at the thighs and biceps, and that her scuffed and exhausted-looking black boots should have been replaced ages ago. But the expression in her nearly black eyes held authority paid for with years of earning the respect of her comrades.

Ignis remained silent, waiting for her to make the first overture.

"I know who you are—who you all really are. I don't know how you've managed to fool the Empire for this long, but everyone knows."

Her voice was calm, smooth, direct, rational. He could work with this woman.

"Ignis Scientia, at your service," he said with a slight bow. "I believe you met with a colleague of mine and introduced her to Ms. Holly Teulle."

"Yes, Holly's spoken to me about you boys. And Cindy Aurum. And Wiz Forlane. And Vyv Dorden, Ernie Sypert, Finnegan Parton, and most of the merchants in this town. Seems you've made some powerful friends since arriving here, Mr. Scientia."

"We only wish to be of help. In fact, I've come to offer our services."

"Oh, really?"

"Rumor has it you're experiencing communication issues. We've already volunteered two of our company to the task until tomorrow, but we have five more should you have need of us."

She narrowed her eyes up at him. "Do you know of Diane Tuck, Mr. Scientia?"

"I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure."

"She manages EXINERIS's finances, including tracking the bounty recipients for all of Lucis, and she had some interesting things to say about the group of Hunters that appeared out of nowhere in Hammerhead and have been the subject of gossip ever since."

He tilted his head, waiting for her to continue.

"She was curious—at first, this group collected every bounty we'd set in Hammerhead . . . until they suddenly stopped in Longwythe. Since then, they've only collected higher bounties, taking on ever more perilous hunts as time goes by."

"I would imagine this group you speak of was taking into account the local economy as well as the safety of the people, claiming higher bounties to protect the settlements and leaving lower leveled hunts to those less fortunate."

Ana looked down at her boots and closed her eyes, her shoulders hitching with a sigh. "Let's cut through it, shall we? The monarchy, the Empire . . . both of you can hang for all I care, but I can't deny you boys have done a lot—for this city, for the people in it, and for the people out in the other settlements. Even this far out, Cid and Cindy's names pull a lot of weight, and I trust Holly's instincts with my life."

"Yet we appreciate that our presence here places you in a difficult position."

She breathed in deeply through her nose and let it out slowly. "Turns out the Empire's cut all the hard lines of communication out of the city and destroyed what few cell towers we had. It's gonna take a couple more days to restore them before I can make any calls out. It'd probably be best if you weren't here for that."

He nodded, understanding that she would have no choice but to contact the Empire as soon as communications were restored. "Thank you for your leniency. We intend to leave tomorrow if we can't be of service here. I'm not certain whether he is to be believed, but I have it from the Imperial Chancellor himself that he intends to pull the military presence from Lucis. They shouldn't trouble you again."

Her eyes went wide. "We don't have the Empire's resources. Should another Astral awaken . . ."

"Not all is as it seems," Ignis answered, but he was uncertain how to continue. Would she believe him if he told her the Astrals hadn't been turning on humanity but testing their faith as was described in the Revelation? He didn't believe it was his place to say that Noct had already started along the path that would lead to him ascending as Chosen.

Instead of outright stating the facts, he decided to imply them and trust in Ana's intellect to fill in the rest. "I can say with absolute certainty that the meteor remains. In fact, it should be a simpler matter to mine now that it has been broken up."

"You were there personally," she gasped. "That means . . ."

"It means that events are moving apace. This will not be the last you hear from us."

* * *

Ignis opened his eyes and huffed a soft sigh at the dark ceiling above him. He should have accepted Laura's offer to put him to sleep this evening, as it didn't appear he was going to find much on his own. He'd grown used to finding her warm body beside his in the night and pulling it close—just close enough to settle a hand on her hip and feel the rise and fall of her breath. And the eerie atmosphere inside their room and beyond its open windows wasn't helping matters. The comforting soundtrack of laughter and music drifting inside from the balcony had been replaced by clanging metal and hissing steam from the plant nearby, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the restless, distressed inhabitants in their room.

After nearly two hours of Laura's humming, Talcott's breathing had finally grown calm and even, blending with Prompto's quiet breaths on the other bed. Thankfully, she'd chosen another song to sing to the inconsolable boy as she ran her nails over his back, but her voice seemed to follow Ignis into his dozing, morphing and twisting into that melody that he had hummed and played over and over to comfort himself and Noct as they grew up together in the dark.

Noct's sharp gasp from beside him startled him even wider awake, and in the dim light from the streetlamps filtering through the gauzy curtains, he could make out the outline of Noct's shadow bolting upright. His labored breaths punctuated the silence in the room, loudly enough to wake the others if it continued.

"What the hell was that?" Noct whispered to himself.

An inquiry was on the tip of Ignis's tongue, but it was Laura who answered in a soft voice. "The tides of time have been disturbed. You saw the vision as well?"

"Oh . . . you saw that too? Uh, yeah, my dad was there. And I was fighting all these things. And then I . . . I did something terrible. That's not the future, is it?"

"No," she said harshly. "It was a vision of the past."

"I don't understand," Noct said shakily. "I—I didn't—I would _never_ kill Luna."

Ignis did his best to stifle his sharp intake of breath but wasn't completely successful. Though Noct didn't seem to notice, he imagined Laura, whose hearing was so much better than even Ignis's, had heard him. He supposed it didn't matter. It was likely evident to even her passive touch that he was wide awake.

"You did. In another time, another universe. Several universes, from the looks of things," she replied in a pensive, faraway voice. "All that power, Noctis. Even the light can lead you to darkness if you aren't careful. Every time a Royal Arm slices into your chest and every time you receive a blessing from a god, a little of your soul is taken in payment."

Much to Ignis's horror, Noct hummed in acknowledgement. "I know. I can feel it—their memories burn, but that doesn't mean that I would—"

"It's because of your father that it won't come to pass here," she interrupted. "One of your former kings showed him the vision of what happened in those other universes when you were sent out on this mission alone, and Regis decided you needed your friends."

"Is that what he was asking forgiveness for?"

She hesitated for a moment before answering. "Among so many worse things, but yes. Tying the fate of three innocent young men to yours was a weight on his soul, but you know what happened. How many more did he allow to die to ensure you succeeded?"

"Laura?"

"Yes?"

"Is that what happened to you? Did you lose your soul?"

The sound that escaped her lips was as though Noct had dealt her a physical blow—the soft, pained cry making Ignis wonder whether she _had_ hurt herself somehow. He held his breath for fear he would miss her answer.

"You're not taking it easy on me tonight, are you?"

"Think I've earned it," he muttered.

"Yes. You have. It's just . . . even after lifetimes, it's difficult." She sighed, and as the silence between them stretched on, Ignis began to wonder whether she would choose not to answer. Finally, she said, "In a less 'epic quest' sort of way, yes, I did."

In every moment Ignis had known her, from his dream as a child to the sword fight in the throne room to their travels through Lucis, Laura's soul had shined bright through those blazing, mischievous eyes of hers, making Ignis feel for the first time in his life the rigor and excitement of youth and adventure. She had always been so very alive, larger than life even, glittering with joy and wonder and ferocity. Stripped of that, what had become of her? What had happened that she was able to regain it?

He didn't know the answers, but he did know one thing: the four of them _would_ _ **not**_ allow the same thing to happen to Noct, no matter what. It was true that House Caelum led a more burdened life than most—Noctis would be fortunate if he lived much further beyond his father's age—but they would ensure that his soul remained intact through whatever trials he would face so that he could live the rest of his short life in peace.

"Is that why you failed?"

"I would like to think so, yes. From personal experience, these things rarely come down to being the absolute best with a blade, gun, wand, lightsaber, airship, whatever. It always seems to be a matter of heart and soul, and mine were taken from me."

Noct's voice dropped below a whisper. "I'm scared, Laura."

"Good."

Ignis had to grit his teeth to keep from voicing his indignation aloud. He had used her words in the past to advise the Prince, but he didn't care for the fact that she was advising him directly now. It wasn't that he felt threatened—after all, his and Laura's expertise tended not to overlap, but like Gladio, Laura seemed to lack gentleness and tact when doling out wisdom. Ignis had spent his life balancing between easing Noct's burden and ensuring he carried out his duties, and discussions on Noct's destiny when he was _finally_ ready to have them shouldn't have been handled flippantly.

"I know you're scared, but being afraid is all right. Fear can make you faster, and cleverer, and stronger."

Despite lying on the opposite side of the room, Laura's voice seemed to grow closer to him so that she was whispering directly in his ear—her tone laced with that power and indefinable _feeling_ he'd come to know so well. He couldn't have been more wrong about her intentions and lack of tact, and he shivered at her words as she continued.

"Because if you're very wise and very strong, fear doesn't have to make you cruel or cowardly. Fear can make you _kind_. It doesn't matter if there's nothing awaiting out there in the dark, so long as you know it's okay to be afraid of it.

"So if you listen to nothing else I tell you, listen to this: you're always going to be afraid, even if you learn to hide it, and you boys do seem to excel at that. But fear is like . . . a constant companion—always there, and that's okay. Because fear can bring us together. Fear makes companions of us all, Noctis."

Noct blew out a breath. "You're almost as good at this as Ignis."

"Almost. Not quite," she chuckled. "Helps when I have the words of people much better and much cleverer than I swimming in my head all the time."

It grew quiet in the room as they each lost themselves in their own thoughts. Outside, Ignis could hear evidence of life beginning to stir in the streets—cart owners cleaning up their abandoned wares, shop owners rolling up the gates in front of their doors, people calling out and asking after one another's safety. He wondered whether Ana had found a way to placate the war brewing between the two factions siding with either the gods or the Empire. He didn't envy her the task that lay ahead as things settled down.

"My dad . . ." Noct began, breaking the quiet morning with a hesitant tone, "was he . . . did he seem okay with everything? With me?"

Laura sighed. "Regis was . . . concerned. Your attitude didn't reflect your readiness for the trials he knew you were about to endure. But he had faith. He always had faith in you."

"I wish I'd spent more time with him. Wish I'd told him everything I wanna tell him now."

"You'll see him again, one day. You . . . know what happened to him, yeah?"

"Yeah. But it won't be the same."

Everyone knew what happened to a monarch of Lucis when he or she died—they became a Lucii. To complete the bonding of the souls with a Lucii meant that a Caelum could also use their knowledge and experience in the Ring, but hardly anyone beyond the Crown's most trusted advisors knew this, else the tombs would be targeted for destruction even more than they had been. But this new information regarding the bonding of souls made Ignis wonder—would Noct's father take a piece of his own son's soul when the time came?

Yes, he decided, His Majesty would—for it was his and Noct's duty that they complete this mission for the sake of their people. But that it had to come to this was unthinkably cruel to the both of them. Ignis had never questioned it before, but who had set these rules that had governed their lives? From what he had learned, it didn't work this way on other worlds. And how many more would have to commit atrocious acts, surrender pieces of themselves as the five of them had, that the everyday man might live his life in some semblance of peace? Would they themselves even be able to appreciate what was left when this was over?

"But let that feeling fill your heart nevertheless," Laura said. "There are still people you need to tell, and keep telling—your friends, Luna. You need them. They keep a part of your soul held here on Eos in their hearts, so you're still here no matter how much you lose to the fates. Your family keeps you who you are, Noctis. They remind you why you're fighting."

"Yeah," Noct muttered, but though his single-word response sounded dismissive, Ignis could tell from the tone of his voice that she had awoken some deep feeling. Another few seconds of quiet passed, and the sound of his voice was lighter when he added, "Hey, by the way. What happened with you and my dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were like . . . holding his hand or something that day. Ended up on all the gossip sites. They were all talking like he was gonna announce a new queen any second. And the way you talk about him, it's like you've known him way longer than a day."

She snorted. "I can see the royal gossip mill doesn't change much from planet to planet. I'd known Regis for all of an hour before fighting Cor, but familiarity tends to come quickly when mind searching is involved. After the match, I was only comforting him, asking him if there was anything else I could do."

"Heh, that sure sounds different from the rumors. Thought I was gonna have to start calling you 'Mom,' or something. But then you and Iggy . . ."

She snickered quietly. "Oh my god, could you imagine? Me as your stepmother. I think I'd rather die."

"Hey," he chuckled, "feeling's mutual, ya know. Anyway . . . thanks."

"I'm no Ignis, and I never will be. But my experience is at your disposal if you ever need it, Noctis."

"You know you can call me Noct, right? Think we've been through enough."

"I didn't want to assume."

"Did Ignis not give you permission either or something? Notice you never call him 'Iggy.'"

Ignis had noticed this as well, but he'd never asked her the reason for it. It hadn't occurred to him that she'd been awaiting his permission. The others had never asked him if it was all right to give him a nickname, so why should she?

"It's not that. I have my own reasons for not using that name."

"Oh, okay . . . I didn't mean to . . . anyway, yeah, you can call me Noct."

"Then get some sleep, Noct," she said, a smile changing the tone of her voice. "We've got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow."

* * *

The moment he'd closed the front door to the room behind them, Ignis turned to ask Laura the question that had been hovering on the tip of his tongue since they'd woken up this morning, but she managed to beat him to it.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly, searching his face as they padded quietly down the stairs together.

There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to ask, but he settled for, "Yes."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be with you last night."

"Talcott's need was far more important. Why don't you call me 'Iggy'?"

She huffed a quiet laugh. "Everything you overheard last night, and that's the first question you have? Would you prefer if I called you that?"

"Not necessarily. I have no preference. I was merely curious."

Truthfully, he preferred his full name to any nickname he'd been given thus far, but the sentiment behind both "Iggy" and "Specs" was enough to override the preference. They had become terms of endearment, almost, filling him with a sense of belonging, of camaraderie. But now that he'd thought on it, the jocular, almost teasing nature of either name would sound inappropriate coming from her lips.

"And I thought it prudent not to ask after the rest, as those words weren't meant for me," he added.

"Some of them were, as you very well know. And as for the name . . . prejudice of my upbringing on Earth, I suppose. 'Iggy' is a common name for a pet iguana on that world, and I can't help but see the animal that couldn't possibly describe you any less every time I hear it."

They stepped out onto the muggy terrace, still dark save for the single streetlamp that cast an almost romantic sort of glow over the exotic potted plants arranged beneath a thick stone column. A man in the corner was sweeping beneath a set of tables in the corner, and a group of women passed by dressed in thermal suits. Judging by the sleepy timbre of their muttered words, Ignis supposed they were headed to the power plant to begin their morning shift. Looking around the rest of Leville Square, he could see no other evidence of turmoil beyond the flyers still taped to the walls, but then, they were still in a residential district. Judging by what he'd heard, the people most impacted by recent events had been businesses taking a stance on the current crises.

"An iguana," he mused, rolling the unfamiliar word over his tongue thoughtfully. "Do you have a picture of it?"

"Are you sure you want to see it?" she asked, amusement coloring the question. "You won't be able to unsee it after I show you."

He chuckled. "Mmm, perhaps not then. Best not to spoil it."

When he stepped off the stairs, he angled toward the alley that would lead them to the main road and the Outlook, where they usually found a quiet corner in which to spar before the tourists began crowding the area, but Laura seized his elbow and pulled him toward the fountain instead.

"Oh, we're not sparring today," she said with a mischievous grin, leading him to one of the benches along the fountain's edge and sitting down. "We're going for a _very_ disorienting walk."

The slightest hint of dread stirred in him at her use of the word "disorienting," but by now, he'd grown used to the idea that every adventure she dragged him off on would contain some measure of unpleasantness. But what he gained, what he experienced in return for tolerating the ordeal, he found, was more than worth it. He settled into that familiar feeling of anticipation, wondering what she had in store for him.

"You're doing very well," she began, "but stuck in your own head with the same thought processes that are holding you back is an issue."

 _And so you mean for me to see another perspective today?_

Ignis never would have considered himself the sort of man to enjoy sharing thoughts with another person, that was, if anyone had brought up the concept back home. To read someone's unfiltered thoughts while simultaneously communicating his own _sounded_ like a nightmare. But for the most part, Laura's mind was a pleasant place to reside as his skill at reading her grew—amusing, intriguing, _different_ —and to his surprise, she welcomed his every fleeting thought and opinion, even the colder, less charitable ones. What she was proposing, if he was reading her intentions correctly, would offer him a deeper look into the unique way she saw the world . . . and perhaps give him some insight into this impossible task she had set for him.

"Easy there," she said with a smile, but the light in her eyes dimmed a little at her next thought. "We're still not bonded, so I don't know how immersive we can get, but chances are good you'll wind up with a headache for a few hours afterward. Are you all right with that?"

While not profound enough a reason to form a telepathic bond alone, Ignis had to say he was looking forward to the absence of the frequent pain and headaches he'd experienced since he'd begun regularly connecting with her. Each time they disconnected unexpectedly, each time he tried nestling himself deeper into her mind, he was left with a pounding headache for _hours_ , undiminished by any curative they possessed. She had explained that the structures she would put in place for their permanent connection would protect him from such psionic feedback and overload, but until such time as they bonded, he would have to endure.

"While unfortunate, I believe I can bear it. We'll only be driving today, after all."

"Then close your eyes." _You've gotten better at sensing me these past few days._ _Try to feel every sensation I'm sending you as thoroughly as possible. Lose yourself in it._

Ignis obeyed, letting his mind grow still as he slowly allowed the sensations Laura was sending him to take over his body's senses, but it reared up to wash over him like a flash flood. There was _so much_ —too much. He couldn't detect a single image from what she was feeding him, and it was only after several seconds spent pondering this that he realized she'd closed her eyes so as not to overwhelm his inadequate brain.

 _Not inadequate, love—just human. Besides, you rely too much on sight to fight. This also serves to prove a point. Now, what are you sensing?_

Sound was the sense that emerged from the flood of information first, likely due to the multi-tiered fountain at their backs. Not only could she hear the splash of each drop from the artfully arranged collection of cubes into the reservoir below, each _plip_ and _whoosh_ echoed off the stone walls and flagstone floors, dying when it hit something that muffled sound, such as the wooden bench they were sitting on. Laura could hear the people walking by—the shift of their clothes, the tone of their voices, the quiet hiss of their breathing—and those sounds, too, echoed and died off nearby surfaces in the same way the water had.

Feeling was next: the way the wind blew through the streets and set the plants to rustling in their painted clay pots, the direction it came from, how it swiveled and swayed around obstacles in its path. Ignis had never noticed before this moment the gentle waves of heat rising from the meteor crater behind the power plant to wash over the rest of the city, bathing his right side in air ever so slightly warmer than his left. Auras of life and magic swirled in eddies around each person that passed, making them look like stars emitting tendrils of life and light as they went about their daily routine, unaware of the wake they left behind.

Even senses he wouldn't have assumed would help much provided Laura with vital information about their surroundings. The man that had just taken a seat on the bench next to theirs had apparently put an appalling amount of mustard and onions on his hot dog—and what sort of a man ate hot dogs this early in the morning, let alone dressed in such a manner? The scent grew stronger as he leaned in and took a bite, releasing more noxious chemical compounds in the air as he crushed the onion's flesh between his teeth.

 _I don't know how you can bear living like this,_ he said, grimacing at the nausea building in his gut. _This is far too aware, too sensitive._

 _This is your problem though. You're concentrating on one thing at a time. Take in how my mind is processing it. You have that beautiful eidetic memory for gathering all this information, and you have such a sensitive awareness, but you need to apply Intuition for the technique to work._

He did his best to understand what significant point she was trying to make in the stream of information she was sending him—some indefinable thing she was drawing his attention to that he couldn't seem to grasp. He took a deep breath and relaxed, knowing full-well by now that nothing would come if he forced it. After several minutes of patiently letting her mind wash over him, he thought he saw it. It felt almost as though he were crossing his mind's eyes to see the image hidden in a three-dimensional puzzle, but the image hidden beneath the stream left him speechless.

Laura saw everything and nothing at once, allowing all the information he'd taken note of to crest over her like a never-ending wave. But instead of trying to make sense of anything at all, she surrendered herself to it. The cacophony that had been rendered meaningless to Ignis's mind was recreated as an image in Laura's—tiny insignificant details subconsciously coalescing to form a coherent space inside her head. He couldn't see the courtyard in the traditional sense, but he could _see_ the courtyard. He knew the boundaries of the walls and structures in the way the sound bounced and deadened. He could feel the stairs and dips in the walkways from the rhythm of the people's footsteps. He could sense the auras of those people as they walked along. In that moment, Ignis had no doubt he could easily stand up and stride the length of the city with his eyes closed.

But barely a minute had passed before he had to let go of her hold on him, the clarity of the moment fading as that familiar headache took over. He opened his eyes to find her sitting next to him, hers still closed.

 _And that's without sight. Imagine what you could do in a fight with it. Your Intuition will tell you what to react to as the sensations wash over you—immediately, and without thought. You could react to your opponent before he himself even realizes what he's doing._

"Come on," she said, standing and beckoning for him to do the same. "You can keep your eyes open if you like, but stay close as I take you on a walk."

Even though Laura was the one with her eyes closed, Ignis found he had to rely on her senses more than his as they walked, for he was so deeply saturated with her sensory input that he found his own to be useless for navigating himself. His body had been reduced to a whisper, leaving him just enough awareness to remember that he was responsible for moving his own feet. He knew when to take each step that descended from their alley down to the market—not only because of Laura's memory of the place but because of the steps of the three people who had passed through here not ten seconds before them. Navigating so confidently without sight went against his every instinct, and yet the timing of their steps to match the ones they'd heard previous was almost like following a rehearsed dance, reminding him of the last time he'd been here.

At least that lesson their first night in Lestallum was beginning to make a little more sense now beyond her simply trying to seduce him.

 _The blind truly is leading the blind here,_ he said with amusement.

 _This level of saturation will be much easier to achieve when we bond. Too easy, really—almost second nature. But for now, I'm going to pull away, just a little. Try to start using your own Intuition._

The ease with which they'd been traversing the market dropped away immediately, including the faint sense of unrest and unease he wasn't certain he had imagined or was receiving deliberately from her. His view of his surroundings slammed to the forefront of his concentration, and he froze in the middle of the aisle, attempting to tamp his frustration and gather his sense of self before he bumped into one of the dozen or so people milling around them. For weeks, he'd been working on this; surely he should have made _some_ progress by now?

"Hey, Daniel!" Laura called out, and Ignis noticed a young, dark-haired man about ten yards away furrow his brow and offer a tentative wave. "Is your dad all right? His cart make it through okay?"

"Hey . . . uh . . . Laura, right? Yeah, he got vandalized, but him and the merchandise are okay." He gestured toward her, looking at Ignis uncertainly. "Did you get hurt?"

"Nah. Trust exercise."

"Oh . . . okay . . . well, I gotta get going."

"Stay safe, and take care!"

 _Don't be daft_ , she added privately as he took her by the elbow—more for appearance's sake than for anything else. _I know you're used to immediately mastering everything thrown at you, but please keep in mind that I'm teaching you something only a handful of humans in the entire_ multiverse _can achieve_ _ **.**_ _And now that you understand the concept, I think you'll start improving even more quickly._

The thought of accomplishing such a feat thrilled him, but he tried not to get his hopes up. He couldn't think of another activity he'd ever devoted so much of himself to and saw this little progress.

In an attempt to distract himself from his own pessimism and the headache building to the point he knew he would soon have to stop, he asked, _How did you recognize Daniel from so far away? He hadn't uttered a sound._

A thread of amusement that wasn't his own wormed its way into his mind, carrying on it the . . . scent and flavor of her personality. He could describe it no other way. She steered him back toward the hotel, chuckling under her breath.

 _Not human, remember? You think you lost your sense of self back there? Imagine if I showed you what I was getting from telepathy, my time sense, the threads of the multiverse. And what I said about feeling the turn of the planet? Not just pretty words, you know._

Dismay filled him at the thought of it. He'd forgotten how much more information her extra abilities of perception accounted for. She'd been holding back on him. But of course, she had to, didn't she? His feeble little mind couldn't handle all she was capable of seeing.

 _Stop that,_ she chastised. _I'm not. fracking. human._ _Confidence, especially with you, plays a key role in how well you do. Believe in yourself. I do, wholeheartedly. And when you've mastered it? There's still more I can teach you. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be able to trounce Cor in two seconds flat with your eyes closed._

 _Surely not!_

 _Most certainly so!_ she argued, the sound of her voice in his head growing deeper and exaggeratedly formal in a poor attempt at imitating his voice.

 _Very amusing._

He was about to pull his arm from hers and step up onto the first of the Leville's steps when she tugged him away to the dead-end alley around the corner. There in the deep shadow of the Leville's portico where they were less likely to be noticed by passersby, she pulled him close and opened her eyes slowly to him, her expression searching, and if he was reading the black, jagged lines emanating from her mind correctly, deeply anxious.

"What's wrong?"

"I _am_ sorry . . . for not handling the Ardyn situation better. You _do_ realize—though I try my best, I don't always make the right decisions."

"Had I been unaware of that fact before this, I've certainly been presented with enough evidence by now. You and I—we'll work together on the issue of the Chancellor so that we aren't caught by surprise next time. What brought this on?"

"Caem. From what Jared told Talcott and Iris, there's enough space there for privacy. And it's safe from daemons."

He caught the direction of her thoughts and added, "And we're likely to be there for a few days to assess the boat's condition and make plans for everything we must do before leaving Lucis."

"Yes. Are you sure this is what you want? I've done my very best to answer your every question about our future together honestly these past few days. Am I enough for _you_ , Ignis Scientia? I've disappointed you more than once in the short time we've known each other, and I'll do it again—a million times over—no matter how much I don't want to."

He grasped her hands in his, pulling one up to graze his lips along the tops of her knuckles. "So long as you accept me for my faults, I believe I can tolerate yours. I told you before, Rose—I've made my decision. Do you not trust my judgment?"

"I do. It's just . . . it . . . _this_ seems too good to be true. I keep waiting for . . . _something_ to happen, something to go wrong."

He gave her hands a final kiss and a squeeze before gesturing her along the dark walkway that led to the front entrance. "I understand—more than you realize. And as our decision has not been made without considerable deliberation, I see no reason why our actions couldn't be made somewhat hastily. I believe it's only natural in such cases to be apprehensive."

"Listen to you," she said amusedly, "reassuring me when you don't even know what's about to happen."

"I thought you might discuss the details of the process with me on the way. The sooner we leave, the sooner we will arrive in Caem."

"I'll toss the others right out of bed and into the car, then. Allons-y!"

Her smile was lovely. Was she aware of that? That spirit that lit up her eyes every time she beamed at him like that was enough to soothe, if not cure, his pounding head. He kept his eyes trained on her bouncing spiracorn tail as she skipped ahead, pleased that he had made her happy.

Straightening the wrist of his left glove as he stepped inside the air-circulated lobby, he let out a small breath and smiled softly to himself.

"Tonight, then."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Again, I have minorly changed radio dialogue to suit my story's needs, but it's enough to make it not canon.

The "fear makes companions of us all" speech is taken from Doctor Who.


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note:**

Warning: Gratuitous use of language this chapter—even more than normal

* * *

Gladio wanted to say _something_ to Iggy as he shook the shaker over his fish, but it was like watching a car careen off the road and smash into a wall; he couldn't move or shout or do anything but stare in fascination. Prompto had been pretty sneaky switching out the salt for sugar, so Gladio couldn't fault him for not noticing that, but it was his next move that would prove that Iggy had clearly lost his fucking mind.

As he carefully cut a perfect-sized bite of grilled striped barramundi and daintily brought it to his mouth, Gladio cast a quick glance at Noct, who was sitting across from Iggy, wearing one of his spare coeurl print shirts and Crownsguard jackets. It was weird, seeing Noct in Iggy's clothes. Those finely-tailored suits just didn't fit Noct right—made the fancy shiny fabric and studding look sloppy and tacky. Instead of adding an air of sophistication, the outfit seemed to make Noct look like he'd just come home wasted from a disco bar after switching shirts with a stage performer.

Iggy stared off at the whitecaps crashing onto the shore, his hair blowing back nearly flat against his head as he faced the wind, and brought the white flaky fish to his lips. He put the fork in his mouth, removed it, chewed, and swallowed, all while maintaining that blank look on his face.

"That's it!" Noct said in a—frankly—fucking awful imitation of Iggy's accent, raising his finger in the air. "I've come up with a new recipeh!"

"Indeed," Iggy agreed in a small voice, still staring out at the sea.

If it weren't for the fact that Gladio'd been having the shittiest morning, he'd have thought he was having some weirdass surreal dream.

Prompto couldn't take it anymore. He bent over so low in his camp chair that his face nearly touched his plate and snorted so hard it was a wonder brains didn't start flying out of his nose.

Gladio looked over to Laura to see how she would react to this blatant teasing of her boyfriend, but just as she'd done for every other prank Prompto and Noct had pulled on him today, she only seemed to look on in sympathetic amusement.

"Hey, Specs, you think I'm the best blitzball player in Lucis?" Noct asked.

After taking another bite of his sugared fish, he swallowed and said, "Of course, Noct."

"And you secretly wear lacy underwear with pink bows, right?" Prompto asked between snorts.

"Yes," Iggy replied.

Noct sat up straight, his eyes wide. "Oh! You're never cooking vegetables again for as long as you live! Right?"

"Indeed."

"YES!" Noct cheered, raising his hand in the air to give Prompto a high-five.

"You gonna let them keep pulling this crap on him?" Gladio leaned over and asked Laura.

"If it were hurting him in any way, I'd put a stop to it," she said quietly. "But since he really isn't noticing, I don't see the harm."

"I'm sorry, but how is that even possible? He wasn't like this last night. What's wrong with him today?"

Noct and Prompto had been doing shit like this to Iggy ever since they'd arrived at Leirity Seaside that afternoon. They'd set up the chairs and kitchen at Spelcray Haven, just to hang out and relax on the beach a bit before getting to Cape Caem, when Iggy seemed to grow distracted and spacey, moving on muscle memory as he set up the kitchen with Laura. Then because Noct was apparently four years old and didn't like being ignored, he'd started throwing little shells at Iggy's shoulder in an attempt to get him to turn around. Once Prompto and Noct figured out Iggy was really out of it, they switched out his coffee for tea and watched as he'd drunk the whole thing down without saying a word. It was only after Noct and Prompto had had an entire conversation with him about what they'd do when they got to Cape Caem, switching seats one line of the dialogue at a time, that they'd come up with the plan for this most recent setup.

"He's all right," Laura replied. "He's got a lot on his mind, and now that we're safe, he's letting it take over."

"Sure hope that's it," Gladio grumbled, standing and walking over to the dishes bucket to wash his plate. Any other day, he'd find this shit hilarious and join in, but he just wasn't in the mood.

"I'm gonna go for a walk," he said, tossing a wave to everyone over his shoulder, not caring if they heard him or not.

He didn't want to be in sight of the haven, so he ignored the fishing dock and followed the line of the high, rocky cliff faces down the shoreline. But he didn't wander far; he wasn't stupid. As soon as he had gone far enough out to have some kinda privacy, he turned from the cliff out to the blacker, rougher rocks that led out to the water.

He chose the flattest, driest spot he could find, folding his legs underneath him with a sigh. Looking out over the bay, he took a moment to breathe in the wet, briny air. It kinda stunk a little, but it sure was a helluva lot better than some of the fumes he used to smell back in Insomnia sometimes. It was beautiful out here—peaceful with the fresh air, crashing waves, and restless wind. It reminded him of Galdin, back before this whole fucking mess got started. Things had just been so much simpler back then. He'd been so much younger.

Out of habit more than anything, Gladio took his book out and opened it to where he'd bookmarked it. Fuck, he'd been thinking so grand only a couple of weeks ago. The Amicitia family had some land holdings in northern Cleigne, just west of the Vesperpool, and he'd been thinking it would've been perfect to have some of the farmers who sold in Lestallum grow some tea and food up there, maybe give some of the refugees from Insomnia some means of providing for themselves. But it was stupid—just a stupid dream from a dumb fuck who couldn't even do the job he had right, let alone another one. He tossed the book on the rocks behind him. Maybe some other poor bastard would find it and know what to do with it.

Gladio heard the sound of Noct and Prompto laughing, and he looked up to see that the four of them had moved out to the fishing pier, in full view of his formerly private spot. He could see that Noct had changed into his own clothes, at least. Laura was facing in his direction, her hair blowing out of its clip and whipping at her face in the blustering wind, probably staring at him with pity or some shit. He couldn't take that, not today. He stood and walked farther along the rocky shore, keeping his eyes on the ground so he didn't fall into one of the tidepools or get his feet caught between the rocks. When he sat down again, he faced away from the dock toward Cape Caem, admiring the massive, craggy cliff face and towering lighthouse that kinda looked like a sword sticking up out of the ground.

They were only here cause of Jared; he was the one who'd done all that research, collected all that information from the King and his Dad and gods knew where else in that diary for them to use on this trip. Gladio had lost Jared for the very reason he knew he was gonna lose someone—because he'd been out protecting Noct. He'd be able to handle it and move on, just like he had with his dad, if he'd even been doing that right. Much as he was proud of the kid for stepping up and being a man in the face of danger, it'd been so fucking wrong to watch Noct step between him and Ravus and summon his Royal Armiger in defense. Noct was supposed to defend himself, defend the people, defend the weak. It went against everything Gladio had been and become and done his entire life, and he was starting to wonder just what the hell he thought he was doing as the Chosen King's Shield. If he couldn't protect Noct from some piece of shit like Ravus, how was he gonna be able to do anything when they fought destiny?

And on top of everything, he couldn't even get revenge for his own House without fucking things up royally. They'd had the guy last night— _Caligo_ —when they'd learned of the Empire's presence at Fort Vaullerey and busted in to take everyone out. Caligo had openly and proudly admitted that he'd killed the man who'd helped Gladio's dad and Gladio raise little Iris. He should've killed him right then and there, but no. He'd allowed the gil to be passed on to someone else, and those hunters had let him get away.

Maybe Iggy felt responsible for being the one to hand him off to the hunters, and that was why he was being so weird today.

Much as he wanted to hate the draw with Aranea, he found he couldn't. She was just a mercenary doing her job, not really out for Noct's blood like Ravus. And even though she was hot and talented as fuck, Gladio knew all that 'quittin' time' bullshit was just her way of pulling out before she got her ass handed to her when she was outnumbered—so she was smart, too. Her promise to play again was . . . promising. He was always up for a little foreplay, even if aerial combat wasn't his usual style.

But it all came down to the fact that his performance lately, his failures, whatever the hell this feeling was stabbing at his gut, was unacceptable. He needed something more—more worth, more . . . power. And there was only one place he was gonna get it. Laura had told him that power always came at a cost, and at this point, it didn't matter what that cost was because he couldn't move forward unless he could actually do his job.

It would mean leaving Noct behind for a while though. Could he do that? His dad sure as hell wouldn't have approved if he'd gone to him about it. 'A Shield's life is not his own; it can only be risked for the King and no one else.' He'd heard the lecture a thousand times before, but this was different. As it stood now, Gladio wasn't a Shield at all. The Prince had proven he wasn't completely helpless, and there was always the others to back him up. Laura might have always left the real protection to Gladio when they were all together, but she'd step up and cover for him if needed, and there was Iggy and Prompto to help for the hunts. Still, hopefully he wouldn't have to be gone long; he didn't like having the control out of his hands.

Having made his decision, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Gladio," Cor said.

"Yeah, I got some business I gotta handle. Gonna need some of that guidance you're so well-known for."

"You gonna tell me what this is about?"

Gladio hesitated for a second, hoping Cor wouldn't try to talk him out of it. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I wanna take the trial."

Cor's response was nothing but silence.

"Meet me at the Taelpar Rest Area tomorrow?"

It was silent for another couple of seconds, and Gladio was about to check to see if his phone was still connected to the call when he heard Cor's gruff, "All right. Tomorrow. Noon."

"You got it."

He spent another twenty minutes or so lost in thought, staring down at the water as it rose and fell at his feet, kicking up sprays of saltwater that left patterns of droplets on his boots before dripping down to the rocks. A rhythmic clacking of boots on stone in the distance increased in volume as the feet drew nearer, letting him know that Iggy was coming without him having to turn around. They all knew how to move across the terrain without making a sound—no one more than Iggy—but they'd all learned not to sneak up on one another out in the wild like this, or they'd likely end up having to dodge a sword aimed at their chests.

Iggy lowered himself to the nearest flat rock next to him, straightening one knee and the bending the other up as he leaned a casual elbow on it. Looking out at the waves, he said in a low voice, "Good afternoon."

"What's up, Ig?" Gladio asked, maybe with just the slightest hint of hostility. He knew all about those mind games Iggy played to get Noct to talk, usually because he was just too polite to come out and ask what he wanted to know. But Gladio wasn't in the mood for it today, and he wasn't gonna confess his sins just because he sat down and bid him good afternoon.

"I was merely saying 'hello,'" Iggy said, pursing his lips and tilting his head, still staring out to the horizon thoughtfully. "Checking in, you could say."

"Heh, if anyone should be checking in, it should be with you. You all right today, man?"

Iggy furrowed his brow and gave him a steely-eyed look. "Is my behavior this afternoon truly worthy of this much note? It seems as though everyone has made remarks since our arrival."

"Ig, you couldn't be more distracted if there was a cactuar givin' you a lap dance right about now."

Iggy sniffed delicately, raising his chin a little. "Well, that's certainly an image I could've gone a lifetime without seeing. Thank you."

"No prob," he said with a grin, but then he turned serious. Much as he hated to do this, if he was gonna leave, he needed to make sure shit was all straightened out before he did so. "Listen. When you and Laura got together, I swore I wasn't gonna interfere."

"And I appreciate your support more than I can say," Iggy said, turning his eyes out to the sea again. "You've been nothing but kind to the both of us."

It'd been easy for Gladio to support whatever it was they had going on; all he'd had to do was talk a little louder that one time they'd asked him to cover for them. Other than that, the routine and dynamic between the five of them had stayed exactly the same. He respected the hell out of the fact that they never got weird the few times they shared a bed, and no one had never even caught them getting cuddly with each other—not even a quick touch or kiss—when they suddenly entered a room with the two of them alone. But the way they always walked near each other on their long treks and the way their eyes would meet and twinkle with warmth like they were sharing some secret was enough to let Gladio know that something was still going on and that it was a good thing for both of them.

The only real hint was when they'd go out 'foraging' or 'sparring' and come back like they were both at ease with everything in the world, and of course everyone knew they were doing neither of those things. It was fucking adorable, the way they'd pretend Iggy was all sweaty from a workout as they took turns showering. Gladio and Noct, and even Gladio and Laura, sparred many mornings, and the exercise never seemed to give him soft eyes and little smiles like that. Whether they were madly in love or just working out an on-the-road crush, it was a beautiful fucking thing for him to see in this world of gloom and doom.

He'd been as happy as a Cleigne mollusk for them—until this stop at Leirity Seaside, because whether or not Gladio was about to take off, this was the last thing they needed—the distraction. From the first day he'd found them asleep together by the campfire, he swore this was the only thing that would make him get in the way. He'd thought with 'Ice Cold Scientia,' that day would never come, but he guessed this crazy ass trip had changed them all.

"Yeah, about that. You sure it's not affecting your job? This," he said, waving a vague hand in Ignis's direction, "whatever this is today, isn't you."

"Has my performance suffered as of late?" he asked sincerely.

Gladio sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "No. You did good last night—been doing really good lately, actually, which is why I'm leaving it up to your judgment. If you're getting distracted, you need to end it. If it's not her, then I'll keep my trap shut."

Iggy nodded once, sharply. "You have my thanks for your willingness to 'speak straight' with me, as they say. But allow me to reassure you that the timing of this distraction is very much deliberate. Should I be called upon, I am at the group's disposal to do my duty to the very best of my ability."

Gladio looked over at him, checking his expression—serious eyes, firm-set mouth, posture straight and ready for anything, just like he usually was. Gladio believed him.

"All right, that's all I'm gonna say about it then."

They sat together in silence for a couple minutes, listening to the waves and watching the water rise and fall just below their boots.

"I've noted that I'm not the only one who seems distracted today," Iggy said gently.

When Gladio's continued silence made it clear he wasn't gonna answer, Iggy looked down and reached into his jacket, pulling out the book Gladio had left behind and handing it over to him.

"You won't want to be leaving that behind. I've skimmed over it, and it seems to be a rather useful resource for some very auspicious dreams." Gladio looked over at him to see that his head was tilted forward, his gaze boring into his with intensity and significance.

Gladio took the book but shrugged. "Dreams. People like me don't got time for dreams, Ig—don't got the brains for 'em. Got more than enough on my plate as it is."

"Mmm," Iggy hummed, seemingly in agreement, but then he continued in an almost casual tone. "You know, people who view our little entourage from the outside tend to see us as stereotypes. You and me, for instance—I'm the brains and you're the brawn, but that isn't so, is it?"

"Looks like it from where I'm sittin'," he grunted.

Iggy raised his chin and said haughtily, "I'm going to assume that your remark was self-deprecation for your intellect and not an intended insult to my combat skills, but you're mistaken either way."

He leaned over and tapped the book twice sharply on the title _The Business of Agriculture_. "Anyone who dreams with such ambition, who toils beyond his job description to benefit not only the King, but also his subjects, is a servant to the Crown worth more than his weight in gold. He requires a formidable intellect to even contemplate dreams that grandly to begin with.

"Food and jobs will never go out of fashion. I took the liberty of examining your outlines folded inside, and I believe your plan is sound. You've integrated your passion and your duty to the people seamlessly, an approach I am beginning to learn is quite beneficial to one's sanity."

"Yeah?" he asked hopefully. If Iggy thought it was a good idea . . . but he'd still have to get this Shield thing settled before he could commit to it.

Iggy nodded. "You and I? We're more alike that you realize, Gladiolus."

Gladio wouldn't've said so ten minutes ago, but now? 'Ice Cold Scientia' was like one of those weirdass pineapples of Laura's—tough and prickly as hell on the outside, sweet and maybe a little tart on the inside, and would easily stab a man if rubbed the wrong way. He'd summon every weapon at his disposal and lay his life down to protect Noct, too—had already unflinchingly proven it. Yeah, if he thought about it, Gladio could see himself in Iggy.

Seeing Iggy in himself though . . . Gladio knew he'd never be able to touch Iggy's intellect, but yeah, he guessed he was no slouch. He'd worked hard and done well in school—knew almost as much about military tactics as Iggy did, as it was standard knowledge required of anyone inheriting the position of Head of Crownsguard. He'd aced his field medic training, and while he'd never have the patience for all the bowing and legal talk that happened in diplomatic relations, he could scrape by if needed.

He'd be in decent shape if he could just figure out this whole Shield thing . . . just the core of his very identity. Still, he appreciated Iggy's somewhat uplifting perspective.

"Wow, breakin' out the full name, Ignis," he said with a grin. "Now I know it's serious."

Gladio stood and held out a hand, pulling Iggy to his feet.

"Indeed it is. Our future and the future of the world are very serious matters, and I would not see opportunities for our people wasted simply because the man responsible was too blockheaded to realize his own intelligence."

"Only you could insult someone while giving 'em a compliment," he said, slapping him on the shoulder and heading toward the dock.

"I do try to multi-task when I can. It saves time," Iggy replied with a smirk, but then frowned a little, a crease forming in his brow. "Apologies, my sense of humor does tend to rear its ugly head at the strangest of times."

"Yeah, been noticing that lately," Gladio said with a chuckle. "But don't stop. It's good to see."

"Really," he said introspectively, but then he seemed to shake his head clear and switch subjects. "Speaking of multi-tasking, I should like to stop by a patch of Cleigne darkshells I noticed in a tidepool by the dock."

"Yeah, no prob. I can help dig up the little fuckers with ya."

They waved to Noct and Prompto at the fishing dock, and Gladio looked up at the haven to see that Laura had called Saracchian to keep her company while she was clearing the campsite. As he and Iggy knelt down next to the pool, Iggy started to take off his gloves, but Gladio held out a hand to stop him.

"I got this. By the time you take your jacket off and roll up your sleeves, I'll have gotten 'em all anyway."

Iggy's lips jerked down in a quick frown. "It wasn't my intention to deceive you into doing the work for me."

"Naw, it's the first time we've gotten these, right? Tell ya what, let's multi-task. I'll collect, you write down whatever recipe I know's forming in your head right now."

Iggy gave him a withering look before relenting. "Very well," he said with a sigh, pulling out his fancy-ass pen and notebook. "You have my thanks."

Gladio plunged his hands into the water, and fuck, it was colder that Shiva's frosty nipples. Feeling for the points of the darkshells sticking up out of the sand, he dug his fingers in and pried them out, setting them in a pile next to Iggy's boots as he scratched away in his notebook. Gladio had just finished with a particularly dense cluster when he saw Iggy jump to his feet out of the corner of his eye.

"To your left, Noct!"

Gladio looked up in time to see Noct, who was heading from the pier to the haven, spin to the left without question or hesitation, summoning his sword as he spun to his side. A seadevil had come up from the waves behind them, its teeth snapping furiously at the spot Noct had just vacated. Iggy took a step forward, his arm hurling forward and following through with the motion as though he'd tossed a dagger, but Gladio could barely make out the object that left his hand as it flew across the distance and lodged itself into the creature's eye.

Gladio knew that Noct and Prompto could handle a single seadevil, so he kept an eye on the two of them as he searched the area for more and checked to make sure Laura was still safe. She had heard Iggy's shout and was standing ready at the edge of the haven, prepared to jump in should she be needed. Even though seadevils seemed to always travel in flocks or packs or whatever the hell, like the group they'd taken care of on the way down to the haven, this one seemed to be alone.

As the seadevil threw back its head, hissing and spitting water like a firehose, Noct swiped his blade across its throat, and Prompto summoned his circular saw to jam the whirring blades into the thing's ribs. Noct warp-struck, appearing midair over the creature's neck, pointing his sword down, and burying the blade through its spinal cord into the rock below as he landed.

"Feisty little devil," Iggy remarked.

"Dude, when'd you take up darts?" Prompto asked as he leaned over the seadevil's head, examining its eye.

Iggy grimaced a little, walking over to the corpse and leaning down to yank the little tube from the seadevil's gelatinous eyeball.

"Not darts, per se."

"Um, did you use your _pen_ on that thing?" Noct asked, his eyes wide.

"Well," Iggy sniffed, averting his gaze and shrugging. "The pen _is_ mightier than the sword, after all, or so they claim." As he brought the bloody nib closer to his face to inspect it, he said, "But the proverbial 'they' didn't take into account the additional cleaning time, I suppose."

"Uh . . . yeah, anyway. Thanks for the heads up, Specs. We were just heading back. Fish weren't biting today."

Iggy looked up at Laura on the haven's edge, who nodded. "I believe the site's been cleared away. Would you care to continue on to Caem?"

"Yeah," Noct said, gesturing for Laura to follow and turning to the path that led to the road. "Let's go."

* * *

"Dickhead."

"Oh, come on, that one's not creative at all," Laura complained.

"Fine then, shit magnet."

"You know, Noct, you kinda suck at the creative shit," Gladio said.

"Well, let's hear you do better, then."

"You know the kinda people I hang out with, don't you, you knuckle-brained fart lozenge? Those fucknuggets could really make up some swears."

"I dunno," Prompto said with a laugh. "I've always liked the sound of douche canoe, personally. Tater tits is kinda fun too. Oooh, douche pickle is kinda cute."

"Those are at least creative," Laura said.

"Who swears cute though?" Gladio asked incredulously.

"Well then, what about shitpouch? Or asshat?" Noct asked.

"Getting better," Prompto said, "but not as good as something like fuck bucket—or even fuck knuckle."

Gladio had no idea how this conversation had started, but he knew exactly why. As they'd gotten back in the car, Iggy had grown quiet and fidgety, ignoring their conversation and tapping a finger restlessly against the steering wheel as he drove. He'd kept his eyes focused on the road and didn't deviate an inch from between the lines, but his mind seemed to be a million miles away. Gladio himself still wasn't in the mood for this, but with a plan in place, he found he could at least participate.

"What about you, Laura? Think we've figured out what frack means by now. What else ya got?" Prompto asked.

"Yeah, you must have a thousand alien ones," Noct said.

"Well . . . there's your standard stuff from Earth—some of which you might have heard of: knob cheese, cunty bollocks, buttmunch—that sort of thing. Zarking Fardwarks is fun to say, and in that same universe, Belgium was actually the worst word one being could utter to another. Of course, I had this friend whose species often engaged in curse battles. 'Hab SoSlI' Quch' was always my favorite, even if it isn't really an insult among humans.

"And oh gods, French. French is a fantastic language to curse in. Nom de Dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperies de connards d'enculé de ta mère. It's like wiping your arse with silk, I _love_ it!"

"Cumguzzling thundercunt, those are some helluva thingamafuckers!" Gladio said, chuckling.

"I realize no one is inclined to solicit my opinion in such matters," Iggy began, and everyone went silent. Had he only been pretending to ignore them all this time? "But I prefer spherical dimwit, personally, at least within the confines of my own thoughts."

About a quarter of a mile passed underneath them before Gladio finally got over his surprise enough to say, "What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means," Iggy said, tilting his head, "that the person in question is a dimwit any way you look at them."

"Uh . . . think Iggy wins this round," Prompto said.

"My life's ambition completed," Iggy said smoothly.

"Hey Prompto, you know Cindy's gonna be there, right? You gonna ask her out?" Noct asked.

Before Prompto could answer, Laura said, "He'd better not."

"Heh, why d'ya say that?" Prompto asked.

"Because a girl like Cindy probably gets asked out three times a day. You need to lay your groundwork first. That could take months—maybe even years with as busy as she is and how often you're away."

"You got any advice for the kid?" Gladio asked, knowing Prompto wasn't going to ask himself.

"Yeah, offer to help with whatever she's working on. Ask to learn, but don't get in the way. Ignis told me he said to ask about her projects, and that's good advice too. Just put all thoughts of trying to score with her out of your mind and try to get to know her for now."

"Sounds good to me," Gladio agreed.

"Unfortunately, you don't have much time to come up with a plan, because she appears to be waiting for us," Iggy said as he pulled into the parking spot, indicating with his head where Cindy and Iris were waiting for them just up the hill.

They got out of the car and hiked up to meet them, where Iris threw her arms as high as she could around his chest.

"Hey," Gladio said to the top of her head as he hugged her. "Trip go okay?"

Iris shrugged. "It was a tight squeeze, but we managed. We got worried when you didn't show up yesterday."

"Yeah, we had some stuff we had to take care of," he said, letting her go and following the others up the path.

At least Iris and Talcott were safe now. Cape Caem wasn't really a secret harbor to Lucians; that lighthouse wasn't exactly subtle, but the daemons around the cape had driven most of the population away. The Empire wouldn't be stopping by, and what was left of his little family would be protected by the old magic. It was just one less thing he had to worry about while he took care of what he needed to.

As Cindy had led them up the walk, he heard her mention something about needing mithril to fix the boat.

"Think we're gonna hang out a couple days first, and then we can take care of it," Noct said as he turned toward the house, probably to scope out the bed situation as soon as humanly possible.

All things considered, Gladio would rather them not leave the cape at all while he was gone, but he couldn't ask them to delay the mission just for him. Iggy'd been all over the map today: distracted, kind, sarcastic, antsy, kinda hilarious, but he'd proven he was still there when it counted. They'd be all right without him if he didn't make it back by the time they left. Now all he had to do was tell them.

"Well, ya'll do what ya like. I'm gunna finish up some work here, then I'll be leavin' ta git back ta the garage first thing in the mornin'," Cindy said.

It sounded as though he could maybe hitch a ride with her to Taelpar in the morning, which would give him some time to think before meeting Cor. He'd have to pull her aside later and ask.

"You need any help?" Prompto asked, raising a hand in the air like a student in school.

Cindy twisted her lip to the side, squinting as she looked him up and down. "Yeah," she said. "We could use an extra pair a hands. Come on then!" She smiled and jerked her head toward the lighthouse before turning up the walk. Prompto followed behind her like an overexcited puppy while Noct snorted, shaking his head.

When they reached the porch, Gladio decided that now would be the best time to get it over with before they went inside with Iris, Dustin, and Monica.

"Hey . . .," he said to Iris, gesturing toward the house "can you give us a second?"

"Uh, okay? I'll be inside then," she said.

He didn't want them to worry about whether he would be coming back at all; he himself was trying not to think about that possibility, so he decided vague would be the best way to handle it.

"So yeah," he said as Noct, Laura, and Iggy looked up at him. "Gonna have to ask you guys to handle this boat business without me. Got some business of my own to deal with."

"You gonna be gone long?" Noct asked, his brow furrowing, and damn, he did look a little worried.

Gladio gave him a reassuring grin. "Not long enough for you to miss me."

"Do your thing then. Not like we could stop you anyway."

As Noct grinned back and turned toward the house, Iggy and Laura stayed behind.

"A solo venture?" Iggy asked politely.

"Just a little hike to clear my head," he said with a shrug.

Laura seemed to search his face for a moment. He knew he couldn't really hide everything from her, but he also knew she'd let him go no matter what.

"Just be careful, Princess," she said solemnly. "Remember that you mean more to us than as a sword."

"Hey," he said, spreading his arms wide. "It's me. I'll be back before you've gotten the chance to even miss me."

"Yeah," Laura said, still staring gravely at him. "You guys go ahead and go inside. I've got some things I have to check out."

Laura returned with Prompto just before dinner, and they all gathered around the long dining room table to enjoy some of Monica's home cooking before Gladio pulled Cindy aside and asked for a ride to Taelpar. He spent the rest of the evening upstairs with the others, playing King's Knight and listening to them plan their trip to the Vesperpool to pick up the mithril. Satisfied with their arrangements, Gladio relaxed into the couch, feeling better about how things would go while he was gone.

When the evening started winding down and Gladio was thinking about heading to bed, Iggy and Laura stood up. "We're gonna hang around the cape a bit, maybe check out the stars or something," Laura said, pointing to the window with its view of the night sky. "Don't wait up."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Gladio chuckled, shaking his head.

They wouldn't be back tonight.

As the door shut behind them, Prompto giggled. "They're gonna go do it."

"Ugh, gross, Prom," Noct said, scowling. "We all know; we don't need to _talk_ about it."

"You're gonna have change that attitude real quick if you're thinking about getting with Cindy," Gladio said to Prompto. "And you too, Noct. Marriage ain't completely off the table for you, ya know."

Collapsing onto his own bed for once and spreading his arms and legs as wide as he wanted, Gladio pushed his head deeper into the pillow and sighed.

One more day, and he could start figuring shit out.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

The "pen is mightier than the sword" moment is dedicated to the lovely Ginia, who inspired the scene when she referred to our boy as Ignis 'I know 27 ways to kill a man with a fountain pen' Scientia.


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note:  
**

NSFW ahead.

This chapter and the next are going to be about as Doctor Who as it gets, but don't worry. If you aren't into Doctor Who, this will just be a couple of chapters of filling in Laura's backstory before getting back into the FFXV plot.

Also, borrowed a bit of language from Doctor who from the burning at the center of time part, but most of that is still mine.

* * *

Ignis shut the front door of the house behind him, and as Laura pulled on his hand to lead him off the porch, he tugged her back, pulling her into a searing, desperate kiss.

 _Be honest. How laughable was I today?_

Running his tongue along her lower lip before sucking it in his mouth, he reached around her head to remove her hair clip, allowing the twist to fall heavy down her back and unfurl as he fumbled to put the clip in his jacket pocket.

He understood completely why the others had been concerned with his behavior this afternoon, even if that concern had taken on different forms of expression. Though he'd been loath to make the stop on the way to Caem, he'd found he was grateful for the respite, and the moment they were all safe on the haven, he had allowed his mind to wander—hashing and rehashing his logic for bonding with Laura that evening. After all, this was a decision that would impact the rest of his life, and he wanted to ensure that his reasoning wasn't based on emotional whimsy. Deciding once again that his rationales were sound before going over the details of the bonding process with Laura, he'd learned that his distraction hadn't gone unnoticed.

 _I think you rallied pretty well there once you left to talk to Gladio._

Hands trembling with anticipation, he unsnapped his gloves one by one, tugging at the fingers frantically to remove them and shove them in his other pocket. He needed his bare hands in her hair. Now.

 _Hardly,_ he scoffed. _It seemed as though my every thought had a direct line to my mouth after that._

As he spread all ten fingers across her scalp, reveling in the tickling sensation of her hair brushing against his hands, he could feel her tugging his hips by his belt loops as she chuckled against his lips.

 _And it was a beautiful sight to watch. I'm stealing 'spherical dimwit' for my own personal collection now._

When she pulled away from his mouth to lip up his chin to under his ear, he looked up at the treetops and took a deep, calming breath of cool, salty night air. As frenetic as he was feeling this evening, this was no quick tryst in a camper, against a tree, or behind a boulder—shameful as it was that as beautiful as what they had together had been reduced to such liaisons. She'd promised him he could do whatever he liked the first night they had the time, and tonight, they had all night.

He'd known the moment she disappeared that she'd planned one of her adventures for them, and he was looking forward to it. However, he had plans for her as well, and though they weren't as elaborate or lavish as they would have been had they been in Insomnia with access to his own Lucian currency, he felt the austerity of his designs for her were in fact more symbolic and apropos. They would be permanently fusing their minds together tonight, and such an occasion didn't call for trifles or trinkets. Besides, there was nothing on this entire planet she couldn't or hadn't already gotten for herself in her long life—except for himself. He would give her nothing more than his gratitude, his undying love, his body, and his trust that she would care for the portion of himself he was giving her—just as she was doing for him.

She pulled back from him and stared up into his eyes with wonder, a slow smile spreading across her face.

"Yes. Those hold more value to me than anything in all the universes." She spread her fingers wide over his cheeks, running her thumbs back and forth along his jawline, and he closed his eyes in contentment. "I'd ask you if you're certain, but I already know the answer. Before we go, I just want to remind you that you can delay or stop this still, if you want, and I'll still be here—loving you."

He gazed down at her sapphire eyes for a moment, still incredulous that this was happening to him. He'd been holding out for someone extraordinary, and when he'd finally found her, she'd been too extraordinary for him to pursue—until he'd decided to try regardless, until she'd convinced him that she found him just as extraordinary. But it was still difficult to believe, sometimes.

"I don't want to wait any longer."

Her eyes glittered with exhilaration as she whispered in barely contained gaiety, "Then the waiting is over, love. Run!"

He had a flash of déjà vu as she pirouetted and bounded off up the hill toward the lighthouse—a white skirt billowing in the breeze and catching the light of the moon instead of red, and he didn't bother to suppress his smile at her love of theatrics. Determined to keep up with her this time, he leapt off the porch and sprinted after her. When he'd pulled level with her, she reached out, grabbing for his hand and coiling her mind around his. Her joy and light only fed his own as they connected, and he found himself laughing aloud—full, unrestrained, and unashamed.

As the elevator doors of the lighthouse closed behind them, he lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his hips, exploring her mouth as they swayed together with the movement of their ascension. She stopped him when they got off to seal the elevator controls before indicating he follow the deck around to the left.

"You'll want to put me down for this part," she said before pressing her lips just in front of his ear, and he reluctantly complied as she led him by the hand to the rail.

" _Oh,_ my word," he gasped. "It's breathtaking."

All his thoughts seemed to cease as he took in the view. The three-quarter moon was bright enough to reflect off the ocean that seemed to stretch on forever, almost to the point where he could see the subtle curve of the planet. The twisted form of the Rock of Ravatogh rose high above the black shoreline, releasing its endless plume of smoke and soot into the air. As they walked around the edge of the lighthouse, he could even make out the dark, curling shadow of Angelgard in the distance. And that humbling sky—with that deep, velvety sapphire that reminded him of her eyes—littered with stars that sparkled like a canvas of diamond dust as bright white clouds floated lazily by, offering teasing glances here and there.

What seemed to be all of Eos was laid at their feet, and it was just another reminder of why he'd chosen her, as he would likely have been too preoccupied with other matters to even think to come up here himself.

"Is this all right?" she asked nervously, gesturing to the nook of cushions and blankets on the walkway up against the side of the lighthouse, which he hadn't noticed until then. "I know it's not the best angle for the view, but it's protected from the wind, and no one on land should be able to see us."

He silenced her with his lips. _It's perfect._

They undressed each other slowly, reverently, taking the time to press lips and tongues against warm skin with each new body part revealed. Having been thoroughly reassured these past weeks that she found everything about his body exquisite, he found he was no longer in the least bit timid when he was bared to her, but he still appreciated that hunger in her expression when she looked at him—the way her fingers would pause over his chest, his hipbones, his fingers, or even a particular pattern of freckles on his shoulder as her mind filled with admiration. When he'd first dared to imagine they could be together, he'd never expected to be on the receiving end of her worship, and by the _gods_ he couldn't get enough of how much her every touch seemed to set him ablaze.

Though he'd done his best to return his appreciation in their furtive meetings, it had been this night he'd been waiting for. Ignis had discovered recently that this form of self-expression, even rushed as it so often was, was the epitome of his identity. She had stripped him of everything he thought he was: logic, courtesy, decorum, subservience—even the less-often revealed traits he was aware of, such as sarcasm, that appalling streak of insolence, and even that whispering of ruthlessness—to reveal that this blessed release of love, affection, caring, and tenderness was what he was made for. He wanted desperately to use his body as a tool to express this feeling that was making his heart race and his lungs ache for air—to make her feel it physically as well as in her mind.

"If you could turn over for me, please," he murmured once they'd settled into the pallet of cushions. "I want to explore you."

She shot him a mischievous smile but complied. "Suppose it's a good thing I love it when you boss me around."

"It does appear to be a rather persistent habit," he replied, deciding to start with her feet and work his way up.

He'd had so little opportunity to explore the back of her, and as he kneeled over her legs, running his palms over her glowing skin, he couldn't help but see her every contour as man's creative expression of the perfect being. He took his time, slowly cataloging every spot that made her breath catch or her sex clench with want. With each discovery, he would follow up with his lips and tongue, just to hear that caught breath transform into a gasp and that clench become a surge of warmth. They were both quiet for what seemed like hours as he worked, her breath and mind the center of his world over everything else, even the crashing waves or the wind caressing their skin.

 _For the love of the Astrals, Rose,_ he whispered, sweeping her hair aside, sucking on the back of her neck, and running a hand over the curve of her buttocks. He pressed himself against her stroking fingers in an attempt to find some relief for that aching heaviness between his legs that rushed over him every time he breathed in a lungful of her scent. _You are the living embodiment of poetry, the reason why man was inspired to put paint to canvas, pen to paper, hands to instruments._

"Ignis, please," she pleaded. "I need to touch you, too."

Gently guiding her shoulder so she shifted to her back, he grinned cheekily at her needy expression. "I'm afraid you'll have to be satisfied with what you can reach tonight. You promised me."

"Catch me doing that again," she said with a tongue-touched smile, and he leaned in to suck it from the tip of her teeth—as he'd been wanting to do since he first time he'd seen it but wouldn't admit to himself.

He repeated the process of ghosting his fingertips and mouth over her sensitive skin and quivering muscles, waiting until the very end of his exploration to slide his hands over the soft swell of her breasts and graze his teeth and tongue over her nipples. At this first touch to a more provocative area, she arched into his mouth and gripped the skin at the back of his neck with a soft but desperate hand.

"Oh, bloody hell, Ignis," she gasped.

He was surprised at the wave of arousal that crashed through her and washed over him when he finally teased her with the first touch of the very tips of his fingers against her sex, almost forcing him to grind hard against her hip with a groan of need; the time he'd spent on her had apparently worked her to a near frenzy, and it was beginning to affect him as well.

It was a victorious, powerful feeling—reducing her to nearly incoherent moans of his name and insistent but gentle scrapes of her nails against his scalp as he lapped at her dripping heat, stroking her from the inside until she came around his fingers—like bringing a goddess to her knees. But the tides reversed on him when he settled into her side and she fell on him, frantically kissing his mouth, his face, his throat, and his chest as the pads of her fingers teased up the V of his hips and between the subtle contours of his abdominal muscles in a way that was just on the verge of tickling him, setting his teeth pleasantly on edge.

 _I cannot thank you enough for loving me, Ignis—for wanting me, for letting me keep you._

"Oh gods, Rose," he panted, arching into the hand that had just grasped him tightly, starving for more of her touch. "I assure you the pleasure is entirely mine."

"Mmm it's about to be," she said in a warm, thick voice as she tugged at his wrist to roll him over her.

Parting her sex with his head, he sunk into her slowly, savoring in her delicious pool of heat that made him shiver against the temperature contrast of the cool breeze tickling at the hair on his thighs, arms, and chest. Oh Astrals, this should be a sin, to enjoy the warmth of another body so much, to love someone so completely, to be able to lay oneself completely naked literally and figuratively and bask in it together. He would never know another being as thoroughly as he would know her body, mind, and spirit, and after tonight, he would never again have to know the feeling of her leaving his side.

Lowering his forehead to rest against hers as he moved in her, he gritted his teeth against that tingling, coiling feedback loop they shared. These moments were always bittersweet for him—the pleasure marred by the prospect of having to part again, but even though they still had the rest of the night to bond, he still found he wanted this moment to last as long as it could. She wasn't helping him hold out though, with her breath coming in shallow gasps against his lips, her skin sliding against his with each thrust, and the sensation of her growing rigid around his length.

"Ignis," she whimpered, and it was enough to break his heart, to break him. Pressing his lips to her hairline, he pushed in as far as he could, spilling his seed into her body and allowing a full-throated groan of her name to tear from him and be lost in the sound of waves crashing against rock. Her fingers curled around his biceps as she clenched in time with his pulses. As always when they had the opportunity to savor one another, she held him there inside her for a time, stroking his hair and shoulders as he peppered kisses over her face.

It wasn't until they had dressed in their pajamas and rejoined each other on the cushions that she straddled his hips, taking his head between her hands and his lips between hers.

 _Are you ready?_

 _I am, but there's something I need to say first._

Her thumbs stilled over his cheekbones as she pulled back to look at him.

 _Rose Tyler,_ he said, attempting to sear the memory of her wondrous expression in his mind forever, _I love you._

Her expression grew heartbreakingly tender as she smiled down at him.

 _A Ithīr Ingolë, inye tye méla_ _oialë_ , she responded in kind, and he could _feel_ the truth and power behind her declaration in his heart. She would love him forever. And just as he would take care of her for the rest of his life, she would do the same for him.

Once he'd nodded his assent, she lowered her forehead to his, and he closed his eyes. Ever so slowly, he could feel their tenuous connection growing heavier in his mind, growing solid as it manifested into a thread of sparkling gold just above and behind his back teeth. Once he could see it in his mind, he tentatively reached for it, leaving his own head for the first time since he'd died and attempting to create his own thread in her mind, leaving a piece of himself behind with her help. Once his deep burgundy was established, he could feel her building the bridge, finally connecting them completely.

Ignis had spent his entire life in Insomnia. He knew all its streets, secret corners, the best routes home, and his favorite little noodle and book shop on the corner near his apartment. The first time he'd left home and went beyond the Wall was in the Regalia with four friends that had now become his family. Driving over that bridge for the first time, he'd realized the vast expanse of the world around him—its wild beauty, the unknown waiting to be explored. He had lost the protection of the Wall but gained something thrilling in exchange. He'd felt fear and wonder in equal measure as the size of his world expanded to the seemingly infinite.

This was how he felt as he crossed the bridge from his mind to Rose's for the first time.

But her mind was a maelstrom.

He'd been warned that her every barrier, everything that she was, that she protected him from each time they connected would be released into his mind for a split second this very first time. But what he hadn't been prepared for was that that moment would seem to last an eternity. She'd been right; feeling the turn of the planet hadn't been simply pretty words, but what she'd neglected to mention was that she could feel the spin of the entire _universe_ on its axis—stars colliding, birthing, dying only to be reborn again. And the thread of each universe with which she was familiar joined together to create a vast, limitless tapestry of swirling, writhing colors, contrasted only by the dead space of the Void that kept them from touching. That golden power he'd only seen glimpses of seemed to set his entire being on fire. Ancient and forever, she burned at the center of time itself, where past, present, future, and every possibility of all three existed on the same plane. She was every contradiction: fire and ice, pain and pleasure, rage and love, ruthlessness and passion, death and life. He could feel the prickling points of light of the sleeping minds of everyone on the Cape, including those who had just been awakened inside her own mind.

The reality of her being continued to batter at him, threatening to overwhelm him, and when he believed he was about to lose consciousness, everything went suddenly, blissfully still. All that remained was that gentle daybreak and her undying love.

 _It's done. I've got you. I love you._

He opened his eyes to find her hovering over him, her hair pooling over his chest and her face and mind full of concern.

"Are you all right?"

Going still for a moment to assess himself, he realized that as the nausea from the disorientation disappeared, he felt . . . incredible. Their connection felt similar to their more tenuous one—except for the thread now lingering in his head, somehow heavier, reassuring, controlled from his side as well as hers.

"Yes, quite all right. More than all right, really. I feel . . . settled, complete."

 _Can you feel me with you?_

 _Yes,_ he replied, reaching for that filament of sparkling gold.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Yes, that's me. Interesting how your mind works though. I never thought to give it a physical location like that. I imagine it makes finding it much easier."

 _Did you choose the color of my mind, or is it inherent?_ He wasn't averse to the burgundy, but he had to admit it wasn't a color he would have chosen for himself—perhaps a shining silver to entwine with her sparkling gold.

 _It's inherent, but I think it suits you perfectly. Red—the color of passion, power, adventure—but muted and darkened to reflect your subtlety, gentleness, sophistication, quiet thoughtfulness. You, my dearest,_ she said, leaning down to press her lips to his chin, _are a fine wine._

 _Well, when you put it_ _ **that**_ _way . . . I suppose I rather approve then._

He brushed his fingers through her hair as her eyes grew euphoric. "Oh! But now I have something to show you! The first of many of our most wondrous adventures, if you like."

 _Where you show me your memories? Most certainly, please._

He'd gotten the sense from her almost uncontainable excitement that there was more to this memory-sharing process than he'd understood. But he himself was most enthusiastic to know and learn all he could about her and would relish the experience no matter how it was presented to him.

 _All right. I'm going to put you to sleep. Meet me at the center of the bridge once you're under, okay?_

Ignis felt his heart stir in his chest. Did she mean that he could explore her thoughts and memories as he slept? That no more would he be plagued by the constant nagging that he was wasting his time, losing hours of what was likely to be his short and inexperienced life just for the ability to recharge?

She smiled down at him, pressing her hand to his jaw. _I'd like to argue against the short-lived part, but yes, essentially._

 _Then let us go now._

The moment he fell unconscious, he touched the gold and crossed the bridge in his mind, coming to where the glittering gold met deep burgundy.

 _Step on the dividing line,_ she said, nearly vibrating with joy. _I have so many things to show you._

Looking down at his feet, which were now clad in his Crownsguard boots, he stepped on the line where gold met burgundy, and the world went white. For a moment, he was startled by the complete lack of any sensory input before he remembered that no matter what happened here, he was perfectly safe here with Rose, who blinked into existence next to him wearing her Kingsglaive uniform.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"The place where our minds meet. We can show each other anything here."

She put her hand on his shoulder and pointed to a section of white in front of him. "Here. Think of something simple—something that means a lot to you, have seen often, and know well. Picture it clearly in your mind and put it there using as many senses as you can."

As similar as her concepts of combat and telepathy were, he should have realized the technique she'd been teaching him would be used for more than fighting. Casting his mind back through his past, he tried to think of an object that met all her requirements, picturing every detail he could remember in his mind with every sense he could recall.

When it appeared before him, the image was muddied and blurry, as though it were an impressionist's painting.

"Why does it look like that?" he asked.

Laura walked around the hip-high Kettieran Maple bonsai, reaching out to run the leaves through her fingers and bending down to breathe in the scent of it.

There were very few luxuries Ignis had had time for as his responsibilities increased in Insomnia. He used to visit his little tree in the Citadel gardens every day as a child during his lunchbreaks, and as he grew older, his time spent admiring its quivering scarlet leaves and silver-white bark grew shorter and shorter until he was merely catching glimpses of it as he found excuses to take that route to his next meeting. There was something so inspiring about his little maple, how it managed to push out its delicate red leaves every spring despite being smothered by the canopy of the taller trees hovering over it. It had always appeared beautiful to Ignis, but delicate and fragile, belying the strength it so obviously had to return each year after winter.

"Your mind truly is a wonder, love," she said, tilting her head at the tree and smiling softly. "The first time I tried this, I chose that blue shed you saw in my dreams a while back. Do you remember? I figured it would be easy—just a box, right? I did such a horrible job rendering it that James thought it was a water cooler! I've seen human telepathic art in some of the most famous museums in the universes. But this . . . genius. I hope you know that, love. You're a genius."

But this wasn't what he'd wanted to create; he'd wanted to make a realistic image, not telepathic art. He waited patiently for her explanation, tips for improvement—something he could do to correct all the imperfections he saw.

"Please be honest with me. I should like to know what I've done wrong so that I may improve in the future."

Her face fell as she looked up at him. "I promise, it _is_ very well done. But certainly you must know that even an eidetic human memory isn't perfect, especially when recalling objects from before I began teaching you. The brain saves space by glossing over what it considers unimportant, filling in the details later.

"You remembered the shape of the leaves and texture of the bark, but not exactly how many leaves and branches were on the tree. It seems to have no three-dimensional texture or smell; it's been conjured using sight alone. But you've already improved so much, even from when we left Lestallum; you know this."

Even he had to agree with her statement; the few times he had fought after their walk in Lestallum, he'd noticed it had become easier to allow the wave of information to wash over him, even if his Intuition hadn't yet been exercised to the extent to allow him to react without thought at all times. This would obviously be a skill to grow just as much as his combat.

He sighed. "I suppose I'll need to grow accustomed to not immediately mastering these tasks you set, particularly when everything we do is a brand-new concept entirely."

As much as the idea of staying in this blank realm all night and indirectly improving his combat skills appealed to him, it wasn't the reason he'd come here. He gave his tree one last appraising glance before his eyes shot to hers, narrowing in challenge.

"I want you to show me the most detailed thing you can conjure. I want to see the best you can do."

He caught a flash of her apprehension and resolve in her mind before she closed her eyes, and they were transported.

Ignis found himself suddenly standing in the middle of the living room of a cramped apartment—even smaller than his own back home. The living room, dining area, and kitchen combined were roughly the same size as the bedroom the five of them were currently sharing at the Caem house. An electric fireplace buzzed like an irksome fly underneath a sickly green and white mantle covered in picture frames, oddly-shaped vases, stray pieces of mail, loose change, and kitschy knickknacks. Someone had attempted to make the space look homey by painting half the walls yellow—clashing terribly with the faded red of the others—adding shelves and filling them with more bric-a-brac, like little jars and cat figurines, which only served to make the room seem more confining. There was far too much furniture for the tiny place as well: a television, a worn leather loveseat with two matching armchairs covered in garishly pink blankets, a glass coffee table, and a small wooden table and chairs.

Despite the tackiness of her response to his challenge, he realized that given the detail of the room and knowing the effort it took to make his tree, his attempt seemed laughable.

He turned in the little space towards where he felt her mind, the heat from the electric fire and the atmosphere of the apartment beginning to make him feel uncomfortably confined, but he froze in place when his eyes caught the figure standing behind him.

It wasn't Rose.

"Pardon me," he began, but stopped when he verified that it _was_ Rose's mind he felt emanating from the girl leaning in the hall that led to the front door. He even recognized that look of vulnerability in her eyes that she would get when talking about her other forms. _Her other forms._ This must have been her human adolescent form, given her description.

Though it was terribly rude of him, he found himself instinctually shuttering his thoughts from her as he appraised her appearance. He was ashamed to admit to himself that he wouldn't have spared her a second glance had she passed him on the streets of Insomnia—with her loose-fitting pink sweatshirt and ripped jeans, makeup applied so heavily he could see chunks of mascara clinging to her eyelashes, and slightly stringy bleach-blonde hair. She had appeared as any one of a million sloppy, reckless youths he'd seen countless times roaming the streets in search of a good time.

"Rose?" he queried, stepping toward her hesitantly.

She smiled at his recognition, her wide lips pulling wider, the light in her chocolate-colored eyes seeming to light up the room. It was the same light that had completely upturned his world, and he finally _saw_ her.

"Ignis," she murmured, and it didn't matter that her body was a complete stranger to him. He took another step forward and pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek against the top of her head, which was now at least two inches lower than it normally was. He was surprised to find that she even smelled differently—of sweet, crisp apples and fresh cut grass.

"Where are we?" he asked, pulling back from her.

"Home," she said, and even her voice sounded different—rougher and sharper. "I grew up here—London, England. You'd like it, I think. You yourself are almost ridiculously British."

He turned again to the room, the scratching of his fine fabrics and the creak of his boots as he shifted over the stained carpeting sounding odd to his ears in this place. The woman who had become Queen of her people, an accomplished warrior, and a goddess had grown up here, of all places?

"Your family was," he searched for a kinder word than the first that came to his mind, "not well off?"

"Not at all. This was government housing. My human dad, Pete, died when I was a baby. My mum, Jackie, did the best she could to support us."

Extrapolating on the appearance of the apartment, he imagined what her education must have been like, the children she spent her time with, the habits she would have had to form in order to survive in this world. It explained much about her demeanor; he hardly ever saw evidence of her regality, except perhaps in battle. She was often hasty, tactless, and quite frankly, everything His Majesty hadn't been in a diplomatic setting. But that passion and fire and wonder he'd never associated with royalty was also what he'd fallen in love with. However, what he had learned of her past thus far suggested that she had spent hundreds of years in her native universe yet only a few decades in this place, at the most. Jackie Tyler must have made quite an impact on her identity to have affected her so completely.

"She sounds as though she were an incredibly strong woman. I should've very much liked to have met the woman that raised you to become what you are."

"Would you?"

Before he could answer with any sort of incredulity, interest, or alarm, she looked to the kitchen.

The woman who emerged from the arch appeared to be in her mid-forties, with grey-blue eyes, the same heavily-applied eyeliner and mascara as Rose, and the same bleach-blonde hair. The faded jeans and violently pink t-shirt she wore were at odds with her age, but that wasn't the only thing that was odd about this mad situation. Ignis was only just recovering from finding Rose in her current state, and the fact that other people could join them here in their private space came as a bit of a shock.

"Rose! There you are, darling," the woman he assumed to be Jackie Tyler nearly sang, her voice high and shrill. "I'm gonna to be out late tonigh'. Mark's takin' me to the cinema. 'E wanted to go down the pub, but I told 'm if 'e wants ta keep seein' me, e'd better get 'is act together. Might head down ta th' shops after. You need anythin'?"

Mrs. Tyler seemed so real, so solid, as she moved around the living room, fussing with the blankets and setting a mug of tea on the coffee table, but she couldn't be. Could she? It was one thing to conjure an apartment from memory, but a person? Perhaps this was merely a recording of a memory.

"'Ere, who's this then?" Mrs. Tyler asked, stopping to stare at him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

So much for that theory. Though he had no idea how Rose had managed such a feat, he could hardly stand there and gape at a woman he'd never met but still greatly admired, despite their disparate stations in life.

He collected himself and bowed in respect. "Ignis Scientia, at your service madam."

Mrs. Tyler looked to Rose, who was smiling widely, the tip of her tongue touching her teeth.

"'E your boyfriend then?" Mrs. Tyler asked, and Rose nodded, still smiling.

When her eyes returned to him, they seemed to harden, and though Ignis hadn't ever seen that expression on a woman's face on his behalf, he still recognized that deadly protectiveness of motherhood. This woman may have been uneducated and poor, but that didn't make her dim or harmless. In fact, Ignis found her quite the opposite as she glared at him.

"An' what d'ya do for a livin' then? D'ya make enough money ta support my lit'le girl? Those clothes seem posh enough," she said, taking in his Crownsguard uniform with a shrewd eye.

Wishing to make a good first impression, he replied, "I serve as Chamberlain to the Crown Prince of Lucis, madam."

"Ooooh, Rose, he _is_ rather posh, ain't 'e?" she cooed before glaring over at Rose. "Mind you, don' you dare start gettin' airs and graces," she said sternly, pointing a finger at Rose's chest. "You 'member where ya come from, ya hear?"

Her voice was cheerful and shrill again when she turned back to him. "Well! Lemme see you! Turn 'round!"

Not willing to wait for him to comply, Mrs. Tyler reached up and grasped his shoulder, turning him slowly in a circle. He caught sight of Rose as his back was turned; she was leaning against the arch leading to the hall, her face bright pink from holding in her mirth.

"Aww, shame about the bum on this one, Rose," he heard her say, and his eyes widened in horror.

Rose seemed to snort and choke at the same time, a hand going to her forehead before she muttered, "Oh my god." In a louder, sharper voice, she said, "Oi! This ain't 'bout _your_ tastes. You leave 'im alone!"

 _Sorry, love. She can be a bit . . . Jackie. You know I find your bum lovely._

 _What the blazes is going on?!_

But Mrs. Tyler had spun him full circle, grabbing him by the chin and pulling him down to place a full, wet smack directly on his lips. "You'd bet'er take care of 'er, or I'll 'ave you!" she threatened with a finger pointed in his face.

He skittered to Rose's side, having had quite enough of being manhandled.

"I beg your pardon," he said as smoothly as he could manage, though he couldn't see why he was the one apologizing. By the time he had finished saying the words, however, the woman had vanished.

"Oh. My. Gods," Rose laughed uproariously, hanging off his shoulders and burying her face into his chest. "I'm so sorry. But if you had met her in real life, she would have been exactly like that."

Attempting to calm his racing heart and somewhat injured sensibilities, he said as calmly as he could, "So she wasn't real, then."

Rose pulled back enough to look up at him. "It's complicated. She traveled with the Doctor, just once. I . . . sort of have access to the brain patterns of anyone who's been on the Doctor's ship. I created her image and allowed her to act of her own accord, but she was never alive in the true sense, no."

"While I am honored to have met her, I do wish she hadn't kissed me," he said stiffly.

"You should feel fortunate. She slapped the Doctor the first time she met him officially, but he deserved it. Brought me home twelve months after I left with him instead of twelve hours," she said with a wistful smile. "You'd never do that, so she obviously would have loved you."

"I recognize much of her in you—your strength, your formidable will, even your accent, sometimes."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "My accent? It's true I had a Cockney accent when I was young, but I don't think I still do."

"You mean you haven't noticed? We all thought the switch was deliberate—another persona of yours. It seems every time you liaise with the local townspeople or when you remember things sometimes, your accent changes almost immediately."

"I hadn't noticed, no. Though I do suppose it is a persona, of sorts—just one of me. Rose is probably one of the most real personas I have."

"And I'm honored to meet her as well," he said gently, bringing a hand up to cup the side of her face. He wanted to lean down to kiss her, to thank her for showing him this, but he found he simply couldn't. It felt too much like being unfaithful to _his_ Rose, his Laura. He settled for gently pressing his lips to her forehead instead.

"It's all right," she said soothingly into his chest. "The multiple bodies thing—I've been there and know how it is. Takes time to adjust. The Doctor did the same thing to me, but _he_ didn't tell me beforehand."

"I should like to meet him too, if that's possible. And those you share a low bond with. Everyone who has ever meant anything to you—anyone you're willing to share."

"Really? You would want to meet a man I was once married to?" she asked incredulously.

"Our past forms the foundation of our present. We mustn't forget that which made us what we are today, and he obviously played a significant part of who you became."

She seemed to study him for a moment, searching his eyes, and he opened his mind to her, allowing her to see that he truly wished for nothing more than to grow closer to her by learning more about what had made her who she was.

Her expression softened before she said, "All right, but not tonight. It's almost dawn back in Caem. Why don't we visit somewhere you want to see for a bit before waking? Somewhere I've been in Lucis?"

There was really only once place in all this world that Ignis wished to see again—had wanted to see since he'd spent those two days trapped in the Royal Library.

"I should very much like to see the Crown City again, but I don't suppose that you were there long enough t—"

Before he could finish the sentence, he found himself standing at the top of the observation deck a couple of blocks from the Citadel, and his heart clenched at seeing the familiar skyline restored to its former glory. He recognized every magnificent skyscraper, the likes of which he had seen nowhere else in his travels thus far, as the light of the afternoon sun bounced and refracted off the seemingly infinite glass windows. That terrible traffic, with its constant roaring soundtrack of horns blaring, engines sputtering, and the stench of heavy smog and engine fuel billowing, was just as he remembered it. From where they stood, he could just make out the main square—with its graceful statue of an angel standing proudly in the middle, juxtaposed by the gaudy television screens above her head and hanging from the sides of nearby buildings, advertising everything from fried chicken available twenty-four hours a day to the newest Libraphone. As he leaned over the glass railing, he could even see tiny dots of people moving along the congested sidewalk below.

By the gods, he was _home_ , as though nothing had ever happened, as though he could take the elevator downstairs, walk the few blocks to the Citadel, unlock his office, and go right back to his old life. And he hated himself for a moment for the flash of dread that shot through him at the prospect. Not prepared to deal with the implications of these feelings, he focused instead on the wonder of it.

"How is this possible? You can't have been in Insomnia for more than a couple of days before you left and yet, the detail of the place. I can see my apartment from here. Rose! I can see the _plant_ in my apartment window from here. Is this how you remember your entire life?"

She stepped up to the railing next him, looking out over the city. "Yes. It's a blessing and a curse, as I remember every horrible thing with just as much clarity. But for you? It'll only ever be a blessing. We can walk in any memory I have."

He sucked in a deep breath of the thick air of his home, his mind only beginning to grasp at the implication of her words, when she continued, "The sum of my experience and my knowledge is at your complete disposal. Every book I've ever read, every museum, show, lecture, or restaurant I've ever been to, some of the very best the multiverse has to offer, is now yours. We can go to any planet, see any celestial event, take any class as you sleep at night. Or we could lounge around on a couch somewhere and stare at a fireplace; it's up to you."

"Rose," he gasped.

"From here, each night, I can show you the multiverse, piece by piece, if you want."

The first two decades of his life had been spent mostly indoors with his nose in a book, laptop, or report, but the deepest recesses of his mind had always dared to dream of a life of exploration, a life of learning through experience. He had always thrust those images out of his mind as soon as they'd surfaced, for what was the point? He would always be an Advisor to the King underneath this dome, and he should've been grateful he'd been given as much as he had in this life. In a way, even out here beyond the Wall, his locale and how he spent his time were not of his own choosing.

But what she was proposing would increase his life lived by nearly a third, a life spent solely with her on grander adventures than any human could ever experience on his planet, with the added benefit of their every activity being _his_ choice and there being no true danger. He could live the life he'd never dared dream of and _still_ wake up in the morning to prepare breakfast before facing the monsters and the fate that awaited them.

He recalled that day in Galdin, when she'd all but begged him to eschew her royal title for her given name, and he'd wondered who he would become in order to keep her.

This was who he would become, and he found he couldn't wait to begin.


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's Note:**

Some language borrowed from Doctor Who again when explaining where James came from.

Allow me to reassure you that this off-the-wallness is temporary, and we'll be returning to our regularly scheduled FFXV plot soon. Thank you for the indulgence.

* * *

When Ignis opened his eyes, the sun was only beginning to rise, adding a touch of pink and gold to the very point at which it was beginning to push its way up out of the horizon.

Just to ensure the entire experience he'd had last night hadn't been some sort of wild hallucination, as he so often seemed to believe these days, he checked to ensure Rose's gold filament was still there. He reached for it, caressing it and savoring the comforting weight of her in his mind, and he felt her body stir beside him as the thread grew brighter with her awareness.

"Mmmmm," she said, leaning up to nuzzle at the crook of his neck. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

She should know, he thought, as she'd been there with him all night. But he did, in fact, feel well-rested, as though he'd been sleeping and not making a tree, getting accosted by a madwoman, and visiting home.

She chuckled. "There will be some getting used to things today. You might have some trouble balancing our connection and interacting with the real world. It'll be hardest when I'm farther away, but since we're safe, I should probably try to stay away at least a little bit so you can get used to things. Just start paying attention to what's in your mug, or Noct might think I've wiped your brain."

Her mind grew serious as she looked into his eyes. "Are you going to tell the others?"

He hesitated in thought. While he felt it was important that his closest friends knew something so profound about him, he wasn't yet ready to share it with anyone. He imagined trying to explain what it was they shared and everyone's reaction to this inhuman relationship—particularly after their reaction to their first night together. No, he didn't think he was ready for it. Perhaps when he felt he could even begin to describe it to someone else, he would.

"All right," she sighed, "I'm always going to leave this sort of thing up to you, but just so you know, it's only going to get harder to tell them the longer you wait."

She reached up and feathered a gentle finger over his lips, and he leaned forward, catching it gently between his teeth for a moment before letting her go.

"You're going to have to work on that," she said, touching his lips again. "You haven't said a word out loud to me since you woke up. They're going to find it rather odd if you stop talking altogether."

Gently clearing his throat of his sleepy hoarseness, he said, "They might prefer it, if it means I cease nagging them."

"For all their grousing, they love that you take care of them." _Now let me take care of you,_ she said as she raised his t-shirt just enough to expose his chest and torso, nipping and kissing her way down to the trail of hair that led beneath his pajamas, and he sucked in a quiet breath and closed his eyes, his hands threading through her hair as she moved lower.

* * *

They stood about fifteen paces apart, dressed in their Crownsguard and Kingsglaive uniforms, glaring at each other across the distance. While he could still feel her gold thread, she had closed her thoughts to him, much as he had to her. She inclined her head, her gaze turning flirtatious and mischievous as she repeated the phrase she always did when they did this.

"Dance with me."

They ran at each other, and as she drew closer, the shift of her weight off her left hip as she brought her leg up and around to kick at his head seemed to almost appear in his mind, so he automatically dropped to his left, extending a leg out to steady himself as his left hand brushed the dirt. Pivoting his weight to bring his extended leg out, he attempted to swipe her feet out from underneath her, but she hopped easily over it, spinning to the side and setting up to kick at his head again as he spun in the opposite direction, getting to his feet and raising his fists.

It had only taken a single session with her before he'd learned that one didn't pull punches when fighting with Laura. It wasn't that he'd been afraid to hit a woman in a mock combat situation; he'd sparred with many women in his life. It was simply a matter of courtesy that one didn't put all of one's strength into an attack whether the opponent was male or female, even if that meant the sacrificing of a sliver of one's full speed. But after nearly half an hour of trying his hardest to land any sort of touch to her, he realized that she could move faster than any human could, Intuition or not, so it had been in his best interest to release the full measure of his strength and speed on her when they sparred.

As he straightened, he feinted a blow to her jaw with his left hand as he brought his right to her abdomen, but she bent below both hands and brought a leg up to his ribs, knocking him sideways before he could flip back on his hands. He stumbled in an attempt to regain his balance, but she leapt at him, cuffing him around the neck and sending him crashing to the ground with her straddling his middle.

"Good," she said, leaning down to capture his lips briefly. "Again."

He fell to her blows three more times that morning, which was a vast improvement over the twenty or thirty he'd endured every morning when they first began. Still, his more competitive side would always be a bit bruised when fighting her, as he knew that she mostly kept to a human's speed and strength to make it fairer for him, but it meant he would never win outright.

 _Gods, you're doing so well, so quickly. We should start you on blades tomorrow._

 _I can hardly wait,_ he said sarcastically, imagining how many times he would be flayed alive before he learned enough to avoid her blows.

 _Oh come on, love. You know I would_ _ **never**_ _do that to you. It'll be just like the spar with Cor—actually less battering than the martial arts alone, though don't think you won't get knocked to the ground anymore._

 _Good,_ he said with a provocative glance from the side of his eye as they made their way down the hill to the house. _I should hate to think I no longer have an excuse to have you on top of me any longer._

 _I think you still have plenty of excuses outside of sparring for_ _ **that**_ _._

Ignis was about to grasp the handle of the front door when it was pulled out of his reach, the door opening to reveal Gladio.

"Hey," Gladio said with a wide smile, but familiarity with him these past weeks made it all too clear to Ignis that his cheery demeanor was still a façade. "You two just get done sparring?"

"Yes," he replied, narrowing his eyes at the smirk that had appeared across Gladio's lips at the mention of their morning activities.

The others always seemed to behave oddly when the topic of his and Laura's morning matches came up, especially when they reviewed a blow by blow analysis of their mock battles. Noct had nearly convulsed once when Laura mentioned that she'd given him a good licking, so they'd taken to discussing their fights telepathically. It seemed Gladio was the only one of the three who still brought the matter up, though he always did so with that spark of mischievous humor Ignis couldn't understand. It wasn't as though he himself didn't spar with Laura most mornings.

"Anyway," Gladio said, maneuvering between them, "gotta get goin'. My ride's waiting."

"Gladio, wait," Laura called after him when he was almost down the steps, and he turned to look at her. For once, they were almost the same height as she stood on the top step and pulled him into her arms, pressing her lips to his cheek before squeezing him tightly. "Please, please be careful. Come back to us soon, and in one piece, yeah?"

 _I don't have any proof, but I feel as though he's going to do something dangerous,_ she said.

"Gladio, do be certain not to do anything I wouldn't," he said gravely as Gladio wrapped his arms around Laura's back and returned her embrace.

He smiled over her shoulder at him. "That doesn't leave me with a lotta options, Ig." He pulled away from Laura and gave them a casual wave. "Anyway, see you guys soon."

 _Will he be all right?_ he asked as they stood watching him walk down the hill.

 _I don't know, but I don't think he'll find his peace without doing whatever this is._

Though they took turns showering in the guest bathroom downstairs, she joined him as he applied the wax to his hair, summoning his shaving kit as she had their first morning together to lather his soap and hone his razor on the strop.

 _We should make breakfast for everyone this morning—give Monica a break after last night and thank everyone for their hard work,_ she said, standing and gently removing his hands to assist him with the more stubborn feathering at the back of his neck. Eager to save time, he nodded his thanks and began lathering his face and neck as she worked.

"Yes, a very good idea," he agreed.

"Actually, would you mind getting started on that yourself? Think I'm going to head up to the lighthouse and see if Cid wants to join us. I'll either have to charm the pants off him or beat him up to get him to leave his work, but one way or another, he's coming down here. That poor man needs a break."

They hadn't seen hide nor hair of the man since they'd arrived the previous afternoon, and they'd all heard from Dustin and Monica that he'd barely left the boat, sleeping in the cabin below and taking his meals on the deck as he worked.

"Yes, of course." He leaned to kiss her on the cheek before swiping a dollop of lather he'd left behind on her face.

When they emerged from the bathroom, she pulled two loaves of hot bread from her Pocket and handed it to him.

"Do whatever you like with those and I'll hopefully be back down soon to help."

"How are these still piping hot? They feel as though you just pulled them out of the oven. I never did ask after the Ebony."

Her brow furrowed. "I thought your armiger was null-time. Isn't it how you keep ingredients fresh? I just put them away as soon as I took them out."

He shook his head. "Our armiger is less versatile than yours, it would seem. It does keep ingredients fresh, but not to a specific temperature."

"Oh gods, if I'd known, I would've offered so much sooner. I guess I just never use yours for stuff like that. Ignis, we can pre-cook meals while we're here and pull them out when we have late nights on the road. It would save you so much time."

"Truly? I'll have to make a plan tonight then,"he said, setting the loaves on the counter before they grew too hot for him to handle.

"All right, I'll come back up to help as soon as I finish dragging Cid's unconscious body down here. Try not to use any knives while I'm gone, yeah? First time the bond's going to be tested."

"All right. Do take care not to hurt Cid too badly. We do need him to fix the boat, after all."

It wasn't until she had closed the front door behind her that he began to feel it—her presence growing farther away as it had with their temporary connection, and he found himself grasping involuntarily at the thread in his head until his entire mind was focused on her thoughts and the sight of the uneven rocky steps buried in the sand leading up to the lighthouse.

 _I'm still here, love. You don't need to hold on so tightly._

 _I know; I'm trying. I just can't seem to help myself._

Only vaguely aware of his own body, he reached into the refrigerator, deciding that something simple like eggs, fruit, and toast would be best, given his state this morning. It took him an absurd amount of time to pull out each piece of fruit one by one, pushing aside Laura's sight long enough to verify that he was reaching for the correct object before carefully setting it on what may or may not have been an empty spot on the counter. This frustrating process was followed by the vegetables he intended to use in the scrambled eggs, then the eggs themselves.

Laura was just stepping onto the boat when he felt a rough shove to his side, and he turned to focus on Cid . . . no, Noct examining him.

"Are you okay, Specs? Been calling your name for like, five minutes now."

"Yeah, man, never seen anyone take that long to pick out ingredients before," Prompto laughed uncomfortably from behind Noct before narrowing his eyes in concern.

 _I'm quite all right, thank you for your concern,_ he said with a nod before turning back to reach for the bowl on the shelf above his head.

"Aww, you're not mad about yesterday, are you?" Prompto asked, his expression growing troubled as he shifted from foot to foot. "We were just havin' fun."

 _You'll need to say that to them out loud, love,_ Laura said gently.

"Yeah, we're sorry if we . . . you know, offended you or anything," Noct agreed. "I swear I put your clothes back just how I got 'em."

As Cid's lecture about getting his work completed before the retinue set sail assaulted his ears, he struggled to concentrate enough to find a space to put the bowl on the counter, but he'd misjudged as he set it haphazardly on the egg cartons, where it fell to the countertop with a rolling clatter that seemed to last an absurdly long time. At registering Noct's words, however, he found it easier to settle completely into his own mind and look up sharply at him.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, ignoring the way Noct's and Prompto's eyes shifted back and forth between him and the bowl. "What's this about my clothes?"

"Uhh, you know what? Never mind. Where's Laura?"

 _She's . . ._ "She's threatening Cid with bodily harm if he refuses to join us for breakfast."

"I wish her the best of luck with that," Dustin said as he and Monica entered the main room from the door that led to the hall of bedrooms where they, Lady Iris, and Talcott slept.

"Good morning," Ignis greeted as he set up the mixing bowl and opened the carton of eggs. It was fortunate he could accomplish this task without sight or concentration, as the shifting perspectives between the lighthouse and the work in front of him would have meant more shell than egg in the bowl for a man of lesser skill.

 _You just need to let go and let it settle._

 _I see now why you required us to be safe for a few days. Will it really take that long?_

"Please, have a seat and relax," he said to Dustin and Monica before they headed toward the kitchen, likely to assist him. "Laura and I will be taking over breakfast, as a thank you for your hard work and hospitality."

"Your thanks isn't necessary; it's our pleasure to serve you boys. But I'm very interested to sample some of the famous Mr. Scientia's cuisine regardless," Monica said.

 _If I stay far enough away to allow you to practice, you should be able to handle yourself all right by the end of the day, maybe tomorrow. All your telepathic and combat practice helps._

"I'm afraid it won't be anything terribly elaborate this morning. Perhaps I can plan something more befitting for this evening."

He had made it halfway through breaking the two dozen eggs when Laura's perspective inserted itself into his own again. Though Cid's expression was twisted in irritation, Ignis could see the twinkle in his eyes as Laura clung to the arm that was holding a wrench over the boat's engine.

" _Please, Cid?"_ Laura begged, and he could tell from the tone of her voice she was fluttering her eyelashes at the poor man. _"I'm jus' tryin' ta get a good lookin' man to agree t'a date wiv me!"_

" _Phooey,"_ Cid spat, but he put the wrench down, his lips quirking up into a smile.

Ignis chuckled, shaking his head. _You can't blame the man for being somewhat irritated for you wrenching him away from his work._

 _Why not? It's practically what I do for a living._

"What are you laughing at?" Noct asked, looking at him as though he'd lost his mind, and perhaps he had.

"Apologies, just thinking of something else," he replied. _Just watching my wife flirt with a man one-one hundredth her age from a tenth of a mile away._

He froze at his thought, the egg in his hand hovering just over the rim of the bowl. Was that what she was now? His wife? He allowed himself to let the concept fill his mind—possessing her, claiming her for his own . . . yes. It filled him with a masculine pride and power that surprised him with its intensity.

Of all the things that could have happened when they'd set out to meet Noct's bride, finding one of his own was not a scenario he could have ever imagined. He'd never given much thought to when or if he would marry; it had always been a nebulous possibility far along in his future. But why had he not thought of it in those terms until now? It somehow made their bonding more real, even if the concept was no different than what he'd promised her last night.

 _My wife,_ he thought to himself, and reveled in the pleasure he received from hearing it in his mind.

 _My husband,_ he heard her echo in his thoughts.

And that was yet another angle to think of it from. He pictured himself as her husband and all the feelings and responsibilities he felt the title entailed. He would cherish her, protect her, serve, care, and provide for her—as best he could, as he knew she was more than capable of doing all those things for herself. Still, it would be his honor to do so.

 _I think I understand. Bonding and telepathy and connections—they don't have the centuries of cultural history behind them that words like marriage do for you. We could even do a traditional Lucian ceremony, or whatever your customs are here, if you wanted. It's important to me that you feel this is legitimate in your culture as well._

 _Would you be all right either way?_ Now that he was already essentially married, he wasn't certain how he felt about drawing so much attention to themselves. A bonding was already far more binding than a wedding, after all, and with them seeming to attract the attention of more and more enemies by the day, concealment of their status would probably be for the best.

 _Yes, whatever you want to do. While I agree drawing attention to ourselves while Ardyn is so interested in us is a bad idea, you should also keep in mind that a ceremony is for the benefit of the friends of the couple, as well. You should tell them eventually, love._

"Seriously, Iggy, what the hell?" Noct cut into their conversation, and Ignis realized he'd stood frozen over the bowl for far too long to be considered normal. "Yesterday was one thing, but today's worse. Really. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I can help with some of that, ya know," Prompto pointed to the eggs. "Long as you don't ask me to do any like, actual cooking or anything."

"Thank you for the offer, Prompto, but I have matters well in hand. As to my state today, I assure you it should pass by tomorrow. Truly, Highness, I'm quite all right. If you will excuse me for a moment?"

 _Stay outside when Cid comes in,_ he instructed her just as he felt her stepping on the front porch.

He had neared the door when Cid opened it, who was grumbling to himself as he maneuvered past Ignis to sit down at the table.

"Pardon me," Ignis said with a slight bow before heading out to the porch.

She was waiting for him down the steps and around the corner, out of sight.

"You're my _wife_ ," he said before he strode up to her, wrapped his hands around the back of her neck and head, pushed her to the wall, and lunged for her mouth.

 _Mine. My friend. My lover. My wife._

 _Ignis . . . my beloved. My precious husband._

"Are you all right?" she asked when they pulled apart, but she continued to press sweet, slow kisses on his neck and beneath his collar.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips, and without opening his eyes or answering her, his chuckles grew to laughter.

 _Okay, 'no' seems like the safe answer._

"Forgive me. It's just that I can't think of any moment in my life when I have ever been more all right."

"Come on, loon," she said with a chuckle, chucking him under the chin and leading him back up the stairs. "I'll help with breakfast before Noct starts cracking potions over your head, but then I'm staying far enough away for you to practice. You don't have to hold that dual sensation unless you want to, you know."

 _I know,_ he said as they entered the house together, _and I apologize if I've been irritating you, haunting your mind like some sort of phantom._

 _Nonsense. You know I love having you here. But I know from personal experience that it takes some getting used to._

"This little lady won' take 'no' for an answer," Cid grumbled as they passed him, jerking a thumb in Laura's direction. "An' it looks like breakfast ain't even ready yet. You know how much work I could be gittin' done right now?"

"Hush," she said sternly. "You're gonna sit, relax, an' be a part o' the group for an hour—no more, no less. You're gonna have a fantastic meal, and then ya can go back to your cave. Don't make me call Cindy!"

"Hmph!"

* * *

Ignis collapsed onto the couch, enjoying the feeling of slouching for a moment before pulling himself straight and crossing his legs. Summoning his notebook, he began compiling a menu that would feed the five of them for two weeks, listing the ingredients he would need, and deciding the optimal order in which to accomplish the task in a day.

It had been a more toilsome day than he'd expected it to be, considering that all he did was putter around the cape, assisting Dustin with house maintenance and attempting to stay as far away from Laura's mind as he could. Noct and Prompto had taken Talcott to the shore to teach him how to fish while Laura and Lady Iris planted an entire plot of Caem Carrots to barter with a restauranteur who was in search of the rare ingredient. Fortunately, Noct and Prompto had relaxed some at the return of his usual behavior once Laura had stayed by his side for breakfast, but he feared Dustin was now concerned for his sanity, as he had tried several times that day to speak to Laura or engage Lady Iris in conversation as he worked. At one point, he'd even reached down to move the trowel in front of him out of the way, only to find Dustin staring at him in confusion as he grasped for empty air.

As he listed the ingredients they would need to pick up from the JM Market truck at the base of the hill in the morning, he felt Laura sit down on the bed she'd claimed, and he looked up to see Noct and Prompto join him on the ottomans across, pulling out their phones to start a game.

 _What is it?_ he asked, feeling Laura's mind glowing in admiration as he worked.

 _I knew your mind was beautiful the day I met you—the colors of your shifting thoughts and the quiet intensity of it standing out to me before you had even entered the room. Our superficial joining merely confirmed it. But now with the true bond, I can honestly say that I will never tire of watching your mind work. It's exquisite, Ignis._

 _Rose . . . I'm making a_ _ **to-do list**_ _,_ he said skeptically.

 _Even so._

 _Well, seeing as how you're stuck with me, it's probably for the best that you find me so alluring._

"Hey Laura," Prompto said, lunging off the ottoman for a moment to slap her knee. "Why don't you borrow Iggy's phone and play with us?"

Ignis pulled out his phone without looking up and held it out to Prompto to pass to her. "Yes, please, help yourself."

"All right," she said taking the phone from Prompto. "But you're going to be sorely disappointed. Afraid I'm no good at video games. Will you guys teach me?"

"Dude, King's Knight isn't a _video game_ ; it's a way of life!" Prompto cried out.

"Oh! My apologies!" she said in mock horror, sticking her tongue out at him and tossing a throw pillow at his head.

They played for about an hour while Ignis worked, with Laura starting out poorly and getting progressively worse.

"It's about time you're horrible at something," Noct said, laughing.

"What can I say? I warned you," she replied with a smile.

"For a first time, I think you managed all right," Ignis said diplomatically as he stowed his phone away. "But I think it's time for me turn in for the night." He hadn't realized it until that moment, but he was exhausted.

"I'm about ready to pass out myself," Noct said with a yawn.

"Me too," Prompto agreed. "Somethin' about bein' at the beach all day wears me out."

 _Four beds, four occupants,_ he said, shaking his head as he headed toward the restroom to ready himself for bed.

 _But we'll always be together now. Do you wish to sleep in your own head tonight, or share?_ she asked him.

"Oh, I should think sharing, from now on, if you don't mind," he replied.

As he shut the bathroom door behind him, Laura's perspective growing more and more prominent in his mind, he saw the identical expressions of bemusement on Noct's and Prompto's faces.

"He was just . . . answering a question I'd asked him. You had to have been there," she said to them.

Drat, and he'd been doing so well this evening.

When the four of them were all in their own beds, Ignis spared Laura a longing glance across the way before Prompto leaned over to turn off the last light. He felt her pulling him under through their bond the moment he closed his eyes, and he sunk into the feeling, crossing to the center of the bridge the moment he was fully asleep. She was waiting for him when he arrived.

"It should be easier tomorrow, I promise," she said.

"I certainly hope so," he said, taking her into his arms and kissing her temple. "Otherwise they're going to have me committed by the end of the day."

"We'll worry about that tomorrow. Where do you want to go tonight?"

"I'd like to meet the Doctor, if that's all right with you," he said, brushing his fingers against her cheek.

She seemed to study him for a moment, and even he was able to fathom how odd it must have seemed for a current husband to request to meet the late husband, even if one didn't take into account the fact that the man had been dead for longer than the line of Lucian Kings existed. But she clearly still loved the Doctor fiercely; he could see it in her face every time she remembered him. If her enduring love for him was any indication of how she would feel for Ignis seven thousand years after they were parted, he would be most fortunate indeed. And he had to admit to himself that he was, perhaps, the slightest bit curious to meet the only other man in existence that had belonged to her as thoroughly as he himself did.

"You're incredible," she said, looking up at him with a soft smile. "Not even a hint of jealousy."

"I don't see why I should be," he replied furrowing his brow down at her. "You couldn't possibly belong to me any more than you do already."

"Just don't expect the same courtesy from him," she said, nodding to direct his attention behind him. "Clearly, age isn't necessarily an indicator of maturity."

Ignis turned around to see the shed he'd seen once in her dreams. It reminded him of the phone booths he used to see around Insomnia before mobile technology took over their society, but the panels were a weathered blue wood, with two paned windows set at eye level in front. The words _POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX_ were written above the door in bold, white letters.

"Again, I seemed to have missed some detail in your plan. I thought we were meeting the Doctor."

Though it was unlikely, given the stories she'd told about her late husband thus far, he supposed it wasn't completely beyond the realm of possibility that the Doctor had been a blue shed. He really ought not to make any sort of assumptions about anything when on these mad adventures.

"Yes, but meeting the Doctor means meeting the TARDIS," she said, approaching the shed and reaching a hand out to stroke the wood as though it were a beloved pet. "She's just as important as the Doctor, though she would likely argue that she's more important."

Ignis reached out to run his fingers along the wooden corner. It felt warm to the touch, and if he concentrated, he could feel a gentle vibration, like a humming, emanating through the shed up to his fingertips.

"She's alive?"

"She's a sentient time and space ship," she said with a nod. "The Doctor lives and travels in her; I did as well, for a couple of years. We ran across all of time and space together, and she and I got . . . really close. Come on, let's go inside."

"This time and space ship is made of wood," he said flatly.

She grinned at him before looking down, flipping the pendant of her necklace over, and pulling out a key set into the white-silver metal.

"Remember, looks can be deceiving. Come on in," she said, opening the creaking door.

The room inside was enormous, with a high ceiling, walls covered in round lights, towering gold coral branches, and an array of electric cords dangling haphazardly from above. In the center of the room stood what appeared to be a circular control panel of sorts, covered in various odds and ends that he supposed were controls, though they appeared to Ignis as a random assortment of knickknacks collected from various junk shops. As he studied the panel, he thought he recognized a bicycle air pump and a paperweight, even. From the center of the control panel rose a column, pulsing with a blue-green light that seemed to radiate life as it reached to the ceiling and cast the dark room in an eerie glow.

"It's larger than all of Insomnia back there," Laura said, pointing to a door on the other side of the room. "I mean it. The Doctor once had an entire family living back there for years that he forgot about."

"This ship managed to create a pocket universe that one could step into?" he asked in awe as he stared around at the room.

"Yes, but ooh, would the Doctor be disappointed you didn't say it was 'bigger on the inside.'"

"Is that what everyone says?" he asked, somewhat pleased with himself for understanding at least one aspect of this alien world.

She smiled. "Yep, said it myself when I first walked in. Well . . . walked in, walked back out and around the outside, escaped a murderous plastic version of my boyfriend, then walked back in again."

"Rose Tyler," Ignis heard a man's voice from the other side of the control panel say in an unfamiliar accent. "It's been far too long since you pulled me out o' th' mothballs for a good chinwag."

The man that stalked from the other side of the control panel was somewhat daft-looking, with a rather large nose and ears, but Ignis could see the soldier in the man's demeanor— strong brow, functional leather jacket and boots, dark short-cropped hair, and piercing ice blue eyes. His expression seemed to transform completely, however, as soon as he'd caught sight of Rose, becoming animated with a wide grin that Ignis could only describe as foolish. Whatever degree of sentience this projection possessed clearly recognized Rose despite her appearing in her blue-eyed, black-haired form.

"Are you living a fantastic life, like I asked?" the man Ignis assumed to be the Doctor asked as he looked down at her tenderly.

"I am now," she said, turning her head to Ignis with a bright smile, and his heart seemed to skip a beat at her words and the look in her eyes. "This was what the Doctor looked like when I first met him. He's a full Time Lord, and when he dies, he regenerates—every cell in his body changes to save himself. One of our adventures went a bit . . . wrong, and he died to save me."

"I thought you told me your husband was half-human, half-Time Lord," Ignis said, though he supposed he should have expected something overly complex the moment she'd mentioned 'multiple bodies' the previous evening.

"Oi, I'm standin' right 'ere, d'you mind?" the Doctor asked, the pitch in his voice going up in offense.

"Forgive me, I do beg your pardon," Ignis said as he bowed his head in contrition.

Though the Doctor was the same height as he, he seemed to tower over him as he drew close, his blue eyes turning even icier as he studied Ignis intensely, seeming to stare into his soul. Recognizing this as a challenge, Ignis stood his ground, pulling his spine straight and setting his features to the cold expression he reserved for gaining ground in diplomatic relations.

"Bloody hell, the testosterone," he heard Rose say, "Don't let him wind you up."

"So . . . it's finally happened; you've gone domestic again. This him then?" the Doctor asked sternly, still glaring inches away from Ignis's face.

"His name is Ignis," she replied. "Be nice!"

"He's a bit pretty."

"Hadn't noticed," she said sarcastically.

Were they truly bantering about his physical appearance, flattering though it was, while the man who may or may not have been her late husband stared him down?

 _I told you you were beautiful. And he certainly has no reason to lie._

The Doctor's face transformed again, his eyes growing bright and that mad grin he sometimes saw Rose imitate spreading across his face.

"Very well then! A pleasure to meet you, Eustace! Should probably get goin' though. Don' wanna be late for the main event," he said stepping away with a cheery wave and disappearing.

"Ignis," he corrected automatically to the empty air in front of him, and Rose chuckled, wrapping her arm around his and leaning into his shoulder.

"Honestly love, that's his version of polite. Not everyone is as gentlemanly as you are."

"Clearly," he remarked. "And how does this Time Lord relate to your half-Time Lord husband? I assume it has something to do with his . . . transformation?"

"Regeneration, it's called. And . . . sort of," she said, nodding to the door that led to the back of the ship.

A frenetic ball of energy stalked out of the door, rushing to the control panel as though the world were about to end, flipping switches, pumping handles, and spinning dials seemingly at random. He seemed to dance and spin around the circular panel carelessly with a familiar mad grin as he continued to work.

He was completely unrecognizable from the last man they'd met—tall and thin, dark brown hair arranged haphazardly in spikes, thick-rimmed glasses, and a brown suit with blue pinstripes.

 _Plimsolls with a suit?_ he asked dubiously.

 _Says the man currently wearing a coeurl-print dress shirt with a studded collar,_ she said, smiling and sticking her tongue out at him.

He couldn't help but notice the physical similarities between this man and himself, dress-sense notwithstanding, and for the first time this evening, he felt a stirring of uneasiness. Was she only attracted to him because he reminded her of the Doctor?

 _Absolutely not,_ she said vehemently. _There are some minor surface similarities in your physical descriptions, yes, though I'd argue that you're more elegant. You're both extremely intelligent and have a penchant for wearing glasses you don't need. But believe me, the comparison stops there. You'll see all too clearly in a moment that I love you for who_ _ **you**_ _are, not for who he is. You're nothing alike in personality._

"Where to next, Rose?" the Doctor asked as he continued to dance around the control panel. "We could go to Gajarik Bfphtorak next. They've got the absolute best banana milkshakes this side of the cosmos! And if we go in the 34th century, they've got an anti-gravity buffet— _superb_ rejit krispies! But you'll need to change into a plastisuit first, you know—the mess. Or! We could hit up the planet Barcelona to see the dogs with no noses. Never did get around to doing that, did we? Hold on—"

He skidded to a halt and whipped his head up to face them.

"Oh! Hello! Sorry to be rude, but that's me: rude and not ginger, but who are you? I'm the Doctor! Welllll, not really," he rattled, squinting and rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm more of a temporal flashback brought to life by the firing of groups of neurons in Rose's brain in the same pattern that created the original experience . . . wellll, not really; it's complicated; she's combined my memories and brainwave patterns accessed through her bond with the TARDIS with her own. But oh! I suppose you wouldn't understand that yet; she hasn't gotten around to that part, has she? Sorry!"

 _Heavens, did he always go on like this?_

 _Ha! That man could talk for England—talk his way out of any war, prison cell, or monarch interested in executing us._

"This was the man you spoke of that refused to use a weapon?"

"That's right! Don't need weapons when you've got words! And your trusty sonic screwdriver," the Doctor said, holding up a device and giving Ignis a click of the tongue and a wink.

"And this man was the one who became your husband? The one you bonded with?"

"Wellll, no, not exactly," the Doctor said as he thrust his head between them with a finger raised. "You see, I'm still a full Time Lord. Rose and I were never . . . anyway. I went ahead and died again, but I didn't want to change. Why would I? Just look at me!" He sniffed and straightened his tie, thrusting his chin high into the air. "Used the regeneration energy to heal myself, but as soon as that was done, I didn't need to change. So, to stop the energy going all the way, I siphoned off the rest into a handy bio-matching receptacle, namely my hand. My hand there," he said, nodding to a bubbling jar at the base of the control panel, in which sat a severed hand. "My handy spare hand."

"Do Time Lords typically have more than two hands?" Ignis asked him, searching for where a third appendage might have been.

"Nahhhh," he said, holding up his right hand and wiggling his fingers. "Got cut off in a swordfight with a Sycorax in the first fifteen hours of my regeneration cycle and grew it back."

"Which led to the events that created me, of course," said a second man as he emerged from behind the control panel. "Hello! I'm the Doctor! Or James, as Rose sometimes likes to call me, just to differentiate me from this spaceman over here," he said, jerking a thumb over at the first Doctor.

"Oi! Watch it!" the first Doctor threatened.

Ignis turned to Rose, his eyes widening, completely dumbfounded. "It's no wonder you're completely mad," he whispered.

The second man was absolutely identical to the first, except that he wore a blue suit over a purple t-shirt. He had the same wild, brown eyes; the same wild, spiky hair; and the same frenetic manner.

The blue suited Doctor turned back to Ignis. "All that regeneration energy went into the hand," he said, holding up his right hand, and Ignis cast a glance back down to the bubbling jar, which was now empty. "Look at that hand—I love that hand—but then Donna Noble touched it. WHAM! Instantaneous biological metacrisis! Part-Time Lord, part-human—one heart, no regenerations, one life to live. You see, I'm sort of a clone, but from two people, and I've got all the Time Lord's memories."

"Oi! Not a clone—a _metacrisis,_ " the brown-suited Doctor corrected.

"Oh, come on, you prawn," he argued, gesturing at Ignis. "The man may be a genius, but he's not going to understand what a metacrisis is. I'm a unique event in time and space as it is!"

"All right, that's enough, you two," Rose interrupted, and they both turned to look at her, falling silent.

"I suppose it would be easier to explain the rest without us here bickering at each other," James said, rubbing at the back of his neck and wincing.

"I suppose . . . Rose Tyler," the brown-suited man said with a cheeky grin and luminous eyes, waving as he disappeared.

"He didn't even ask for your name, did he?" James said, shaking his head. "Suppose it doesn't matter. It isn't as though either of us will remember this." He sighed heavily, stepping up to Rose. "Love the new look," he said, running a finger along her chin before pulling away. "It was a fantastic life, Rose Tyler." He turned to Ignis, his eyes curious as he tilted his head. "Take care of her, and she'll give you a fantastic life too."

When he disappeared, Ignis breathed in slow and deep, that indefinable scent that he would sometimes catch on Rose rushing into his lungs before he let it out slowly.

"Are you all right?" she asked, looking up at him and placing a hand over his heart.

"It's certainly not what I expected, but it never is with you. You needn't worry. I'm not so delicate that I'm about to run screaming back into my own head," he said with a soft smile. "It's plain that they all loved you dearly. You can tell just by the way they say your name."

She hummed at him, standing up on her toes to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. "It's the same way you say my name, love."

"But what is the rest of the story? How did you end up with James and not the Time Lord? I assume the Time Lord's lifespan would be more appropriate to your own."

"We all thought I was human back then, so the Time Lord left us on a parallel Earth with my mum and a parallel version of my dad."

"But this man, the Doctor, the Time Lord, is still out there somewhere."

"Correct."

"He's the one you're searching for, isn't he? The one you've been jumping universes for."

She hesitated. "I started out jumping dimensions after the war with my people to look for him, yes. But it's been so long now. He wouldn't even recognize me anymore—my body or my personality. He may have regenerated again, or even died permanently. I'm not certain if you could say I was solely looking for him any longer."

"Seven thousand years is a very long time."

"That it is. He himself was only nine hundred there, or so he claims."

"He was a nine-hundred-year-old man who absconded with you at nineteen?"

She laughed. "You should talk! You do realize that you are a twenty-two-year-old man who has been abducted by a seven-thousand-year-old woman in a similar manner? _And_ I've known you since you were nine years old."

"I suppose you have a point," he said, frowning.

"Would you like to stop for now? Because it's about to get weirder."

"Are we meeting your low-bonded partners now? Please, proceed. I said that I wanted to get to know you, and I meant it."

 _Honestly, you can cease coddling me. I knew I was jumping feet first into a mad adventure when I married you. You're only giving me what I wanted,_ he said, lowering his head to kiss her briefly before stepping back and gesturing for her to continue.

She nodded and walked up the ramp to the control panel, placing her hands reverently along the edge and stroking the controls gently with her fingertips. Ignis couldn't be certain, but he thought he heard the hum of the ship swell for a moment before settling into the background. A gold sparkling tendril of light snaked up her hands, wrapping around her arms and encircling her shoulders, and when she looked up, her eyes contained those streaks of gold he would sometimes see. He hadn't thought to use his extra senses in his place, and when he reached out to detect her aura, the power of the magic of Eos emanating from her and the TARDIS sent him staggering back down the ramp until he could close the sense again. That energy, and the presence along with it, felt real in a sense the others hadn't.

"She is real," Laura said quietly, caressing the gold. "She's really here in my head, not a memory. The Doctor, the very first one you met, was in trouble. She and I bonded, became the Bad Wolf, the Goddess of Time—able to see all of time and space and change it as we saw fit— to save him. That Doctor died taking the power from me, regenerating into the second one you saw, but she left this piece of her in me, too small to be noticeable until hundreds of years later. From her, I gained the traits of Time Lord and TARDIS alike, eventually. It's why my people considered me a freakish hybrid; I am part Lliamérian, Time Lady, and TARDIS."

"You know that hardly matters to me," he said, coming up behind her and placing a hand over hers. "What does 'having traits of Time Lord and TARDIS alike' entail?"

"A few traits my own people don't have: two hearts, respiratory bypass, healing coma, time sense, the ability to let go of corporeal form and time travel. I may not have the complete power of the Bad Wolf within me, but I am still able to call up her shadow should I need her, as you've seen."

"If you're part Time Lord, does that mean you'll regenerate when you die? As the Doctor did?" He'd already been given a taste of what it would be like for her to inhabit another body, and he believed he could grow used to it if necessary.

She paled at his query. "I don't know," she whispered, "I hope not. Gods, could you imagine my lifespan then? I've come very close many times, but I've never gotten the chance to find out."

As the gold retreated back into the console, he said, "I realize this may be a selfish notion, but given the level of danger we seem to keep running into, I'm somewhat relieved to hear that it is, at least, a possibility."

The look she gave him was unfathomable, but before he could reach out to comfort her, she closed her eyes and shook her head, melting the interior of the TARDIS away to reveal a small clearing surrounded by the tallest, largest trees Ignis had ever seen—some even larger and wider around than the Citadel towers. Ignis looked up to see the pale blue sky dotted with little white puffs of clouds, and as the breeze blew through his hair, he noted that the scent of pine was similar to Laura's.

"This is just outside Lliaméra. Are you ready to meet Eilendil? Remember," she warned, "He's not a memory either. He's very real, but he won't stay long. He never was terribly sociable, even when he was alive."

"I shall be on my very best behavior," he said with a smirk, but he couldn't help but notice that everyone she'd introduced him to thus far had been rather impolite in some fashion or another. Given her influences, it was a wonder she wasn't completely feral.

Her answering chuckle was drowned out by an incredible roar that shook the grassy soil beneath their feet, making him stumble back a couple paces before regaining his composure. He heard the deep, heavy percussions of what sounded like an enormous drum being pounded at regular intervals. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, and as he searched the clearing for the source, the ear-shattering sound only seemed to grow more overwhelming.

 _I should also mention that he's a terrible showoff—immortals and their dramatics_ , she said, rolling her eyes.

As the light from the sun was blotted out, Ignis looked up to see the source of the sound. To say that it was an enormous creature would be an understatement, as he believed he himself would only stand up to the first joint of its foreleg. He'd never seen its exact like on Eos, though he'd read descriptions of similar animals on his home planet. It appeared to be part reptile, part bird—the size of the zu they'd seen outside Galdin, but with glittering silver scales that caught the sunlight as it landed and refracted to cover the entire meadow with millions of prisms of light.

 _His species, he's called a dragon_.

The dragon folded its massive leathery wings and lowered its spiked head to blink at them with a clicking eyelid and a monstrous silver eye. Ignis hadn't been afraid of any of the people he'd met thus far, and he wasn't _truly_ afraid now, for he knew that Rose would never introduce him to a creature that would harm him. But he would be deceiving himself if he said he was completely unconcerned at the creature that could quite easily bite him in half or swallow him whole.

"Ignis Scientia," he managed politely, taking a step back from the rather dangerous-looking spiked crest that ran up the beast's neck and culminated in two rather magnificent horns on his head. He bowed in respect. "It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

The dragon took a heavy step forward and sniffed at him, his hot breath sounding more like an oncoming storm than an inhalation, and Ignis had to fight the urge to summon his daggers.

"He'd like to speak with you. Would you mind a shallow connection? Like the one I made with Noct," Laura asked.

So the creature was not only intelligent, he also seemed to follow the same strict rules for communication with apaths as Laura. That, at least, was encouraging.

Ignis looked up at Eilendil. "Yes, you have my permission for a shallow connection any time you like."

He didn't feel a change inside his head to indicate Eilendil's presence as his deep, growling bass said, _The Firebreather meets Fire. Well met, Ignis Scientia. I am Eilendil._

"It's custom for members of Lliamérian royalty and noble families to form a bond with a dragon as a symbol of the peace treaty between the two races we enacted many centuries ago. Together, the two form a team and keep the peace throughout the land, whatever that may entail," Laura said.

"If you don't mind my asking," Ignis said, looking to the dragon's eye still hovering at eye level to him, "where is your body now, if your mind is here?"

 _Dead. My mind lives on in my heart around Laurelín's neck,_ he said, his nose shifting minutely tothe blue crystal that she never took off. _It is a way of life for my kind. Laurelín is my only view to the world outside after death._

"He's also a source of our native energy should I ever need it, but there's not much he can give."

 _This world is strange, it's life force an abomination to yours. And yet you stay, for them._ Eilendil turned his head to Ignis, seeming to glare as he narrowed his eyes, and Ignis got the impression the dragon disapproved.

Eilendil blinked again and turned back to Laura. _You are getting sloppy in your meditation, Laurelín. I clipped a wing against the edge of the canopy. You placed the trees too far apart._

"Oh," she said airily, "and I suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that you were never this large in real life? Like a father with a shotgun, you are."

 _You may be correct. Still, I hope you have not grown sloppy in matters of the real realm as well._ He clicked an eyelid again in Ignis's direction before saying, _Farewell, Ignis Scientia._

When Eilendil had faded, Laura turned to him with a tremulous smile. "And that was Eilendil. Are you ready for one more nice, normal, short adventure through time and space before we wake up, or would you like some time to recover first?"

He blew out a breath, chuckling and shaking his head. "Never in my life would I have thought any trip in time and space to be normal, but yes. Take us somewhere exotic, and perhaps we can finally find that pugilistic man named Moose you're so obsessed with."

Her answering smile was full of life as she leaned up to kiss him, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see colors swirling around them and coalescing into a bustling marketplace that seemed to stretch on forever to the horizon. He pulled back to see that each little stall was no more than a crude shelter of wood and cloth, but there were hundreds within the range of his view. The air was humid and warm, far warmer than Caem, and the air hung heavy with unfamiliar spices as the steady breeze carried the scent through the aisle.

He gazed down the row they were standing in to see hundreds of people walking, shopping, bartering, arguing, and carrying wares. But there wasn't a single human in sight; people with tentacles, long necks, skins of all colors and textures, many appendages, no appendages, and every other type of being he had never imagined waddled, walked, slithered, crawled, and danced their way through the aisles as they went about their daily lives. The foreign sounds of a thousand languages, all of which he'd never heard before and many of which he couldn't even reproduce with his own mouth, were nearly enough to distract him from the sight of so many unidentifiable spices, fruits, vegetables, meats, souvenirs, and Astrals only knew what else.

The row they were standing on ended with a beach, of sorts, except the sand was a deep purple and the water was a dark, shimmering turquoise. A blue-green sun was setting into the crashing waves, casting the lavender sky in an odd light.

"Well, the colors are certainly . . . something," he remarked as casually as he could manage, as though he'd been to a thousand garishly bright planets before.

She turned toward him and held out her hand. As he took it with a grin, a slow smile spread across her face. "Come on then. Let's explore."


	38. Chapter 38

As much as Noct wanted to lean against the window and fall asleep while Iggy drove them through what was supposed to be a blockade, he stayed awake, casting furtive glances at his friend's expression to make sure he was still paying attention. He'd seemed to be acting normal these last couple of days as they prepared to leave Caem, but Noct couldn't get those first couple of days out of his head. Between the blank staring when they tried to talk to him, the random weird pieces of conversations he'd blurt out, and his suddenly terrible spatial awareness, Noct had begun to wonder if he'd been hit with a mild confusion spell and just hadn't taken anything for it.

But true to his word, Iggy seemed to recover—went right back to cooking enough to feed an army and tending the garden with Laura, helping Dustin and Monica with chores around the house, reviewing lessons with Noct, and even teaching Talcott how to filet his first fish. That didn't mean Noct wasn't gonna keep a close eye on him. There was still a look in his eyes Noct couldn't put a name to.

"This is gonna be over by where we got the Star of the Rogue, right?" Prompto asked.

"Close by," Iggy replied. "The ruins rumored to contain the mythril we need are located on the northeastern shore of the Vesperpool."

"Cool. The sun should still be up when we get there this time. Maybe I can get some good shots."

"I thought the roads were supposed to be under Imperial blockade, Specs," Noct said, remembering the radio reports from a few days ago.

Noct saw him frown in the rearview mirror. "They were, but it seems the Empire all but turned the key and left the gates open for us—as if awaiting our arrival."

"And if anyone's waiting for us, I bet it's that guy," Prompto agreed.

"Chancellor Izunia," Iggy almost seemed to sneer.

"Can't complain, as long as he lets us in," Noct said with a shrug. They needed the boat to get to Altissia, and they needed the mythril to get the boat working; so as usual, they didn't have much of a choice when it came to depending on the creep.

"Who's to say he'll let us out? And while we're on the subject, we should explicitly discuss what should and should not be said in regard to this war of words he and Laura seem to be in," Iggy said.

Prompto leaned back in the passenger seat and let his hand dangle out his open window, catching the wind with his fingers spread wide. "Uhh . . . lemme guess. There's a new rule that says no one's allowed to mention Laura being an alien while the weirdo's around?"

"Among other things," Iggy agreed. "No one is to refer to anything resembling the truth when it comes to any of our identities—as a precaution."

Laura sighed. "If he's waiting for us there, then he knows far too much anyway. I doubt pretending last time didn't happen is going to do anything."

"Still, it would be prudent."

"Hey, you know what you should do?" Noct asked, looking over at her with a mischievous grin. "Start using your Glaive ice magic everywhere. Really drive that whole Shiva thing home and freak him out."

But Iggy responded before she could, "Absolutely not!"

Laura shot Noct an amused smile, shaking her head. "I've been careful not to so much as summon a weapon while he's near. He'd never believe the alien thing, but using any sort of magic around him would highlight what an anomaly I am."

"You might wanna put your swords in the armiger when we get there then, just in case," Noct said.

"And do you have a strategy for how you'll be handling him if we see him today?" Iggy asked.

"Nope!" Laura said cheerfully. "Honestly, I sort of just pick based on the expression on his face that day. I was thinking of going more on defense though—not give him any information."

Specs nodded up at the rearview mirror in agreement. "I should still prefer you have a more detailed plan than 'the expression on his face,' however."

"Some things just can't be planned for, Ig," Prompto said. "Why d'ya think he's helping us, anyway?"

"His motivations seem far from altruistic," Ignis said. "Each time he assists us, I get the feeling of condescension more than anything from him."

"He keeps teasing and testing us for some reason, but I haven't yet fathomed why," Laura replied. "It can't be because he's considering giving us his chocolate factory though, so we best stay on guard."

The Vesperpool wasn't like any lake Noct had ever seen. Most lakes back in Insomnia were small, with even shores and some kinda statue or sprinkler spraying water in the center. They were usually surrounded by parks with white sidewalks and grass cut into diamond patterns. This lake wasn't even like the ones they'd seen on their travels so far, with their wide expanses of blue water, wild shorelines, and even wilder animals. He hadn't been able to tell when they'd passed by here last time in the night to visit the Tomb of the Rogue, but this water was still and black, with knobby tree roots that stuck up out of the water like corpse fingers. Gnarled trees grew along the shore with draping plants, which Laura called moss, reminded Noct of the torn death shrouds of a reaper. Worst of all was the smell as they drew closer to the shoreline.

"Dude," Prompto whispered as they walked along the path that lead to where the ruins were supposed to be. "Did you just rip one or somethin'?"

"No way!" Noct said, pushing him hard enough that he stumbled off the path.

"Now, now, gentlemen," Iggy chastised. He turned to Laura and lowered his voice, though Noct could still hear him say, "Though it does smell worse than a Raxacoricofallapatorian wearing a restriction field."

Laura took a deep breath of rotten air and looked to the water at their left. "It's the detritus at the bottom. Not a lot of circulation, and it builds up to create gas pockets."

"A farting lake . . . great!" Prompto complained.

"Here's to hoping we catch a break with the wind," Iggy said, his nostrils flaring in distaste.

"Darn tootin'!" Noct agreed.

"But look at these old ruins," Iggy said, stopping to study a crumbling pile of rocks and a column that stood just off the trail. "This place must have been a part of the kingdom of Solheim at one point."

"Solheim?" Laura asked. "As in sol and heim?"

"Is that significant?"

"It means 'sun home' in a couple of Earth languages. A civilization of sun worshippers then?" Laura asked as she examined a column.

Iggy shook his head. "They worshipped fire, and by extension, Ifrit."

"Hmm," Laura hummed doubtfully.

"Hey you guys, you wanna finish nerding it up back there?" Noct called to them as they fell further and further behind.

They were always doing stuff like that; stopping to examine and _talk_ about _everything._ Laura didn't seem to care one way or another how much of a hurry they were in, but Specs was always in a hurry to move on—until he suddenly wasn't. Sometimes, it paid off for Noct, and he'd be able to get some fishing, gaming, or sleeping in. Usually though, it was boring history lessons like this, and Noct had never been really interested in history.

"Apologies," Iggy said as the two of them jogged to catch up.

The sooner they got this over with, the sooner they could get back to Caem and hopefully join up with Gladio. He couldn't really put his finger on why, but he felt uneasy having them separated like this. It wasn't like Gladio to just up and leave his duty behind. But no matter how many times Noct had asked for an explanation that night before he left, Gladio wouldn't give him one—just kept making vague excuses about 'business.' But what kind of business could he possibly have outside Insomnia that would take him away like this? He was pretty sure Gladio wouldn't just leave them all and never come back, but that nightmare of his from a few weeks ago kept cropping up. Between Iggy acting weird and Gladio leaving with seemingly no warning . . . he'd just feel better when they were all back together.

"Well, you were right, Prompto," Laura muttered as they drew closer to the entrance to Steyliff Grove. "He's waiting for us."

"Hadn't you better switch your falchions to the armiger?" Iggy asked in a low voice.

Laura shook her head. "They're too distinctive. You've been preferring the Delta Daggers we found in the Malmalam Thicket, yeah?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Would you mind terribly if I used your assassin's daggers for the day?"

"In order to ensure that an immortal man infected with the scourge doesn't discern your identity? Yes, of course."

"Daaaaamn," Prompto laughed, slapping Iggy on the back. "Lettin' a girl use your blades? _That's_ true love right there."

"Hardly. If one were to apply that logic universally, I'd also be romantically involved with Noct," Iggy said with a sniff. "Now kindly keep your voice down when enemies are nearby."

"Did you just . . . call me a girl?" Noct asked in disbelief, but Iggy only put a finger to his lips. Noct and Prompto both looked over to Laura to see her reaction to Iggy's denial, but she only glared at the familiar car parked in the middle of the dirt path ahead.

"You wanna egg it?" Prompto whispered as they passed the red and white-striped convertible.

Laura snorted and shook her head. "You honestly think he wouldn't know who did it?"

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "I guess." But Noct noticed as they walked passed the front, he gave the front tire a little kick before skipping to catch up with them.

As they stepped off the path and squelched through the mud, Noct saw Iggy lean down to pick up a waterlogged pamphlet at the base of a boulder, and he could see the familiar Lucian almanac cover as Iggy peeled it away to reveal its pages. Not really interested in what the almanac had to say, Noct turned his eyes back to the entrance to Steyliff Grove, where he caught sight of the edge of Ardyn's clowny-looking sleeve poking out from behind one of the two old columns guarding the entrance. He stepped around the column, however, when he heard the group approaching.

"Gentlemen! What a pleasant surprise!" Ardyn called out with a swishy wave, and they all slowed at his greeting to give Laura time to come up with a plan. But Laura didn't slow down; her gait shortened so she was taking quick, tiny, shuffling steps right up to him.

"Ardyn! Darling! It's _so_ good to see you here!" she oozed, and even Noct could recognize that high-class nasal accent of the extremely old, wealthy nobility from Insomnia. He'd had to spend countless hours at society parties with those self-centered airheads, listening to them talk about their pet cat Fluffy or how their youngest granddaughter had just gotten accepted into Easton Academy, and wouldn't he just love to meet her? If Laura's plan was to bore or frustrate Ardyn away, she'd definitely picked the right persona today.

But then again, maybe not. Laura reached Ardyn, who stood still with a smirk on his face as she approached. She placed both her hands on his shoulders, pulled him down to her level, and overdramatically kissed each of his cheeks with a loud "mwah!" sound.

The look on Ardyn's face would've been worth paying admission for as she pulled back from him—even if it only lasted less than half a second—eyes widened in shock, brow furrowed in confusion, and mouth pulled down before settling back into his smirk.

"You absolute beast!" she continued, whacking him on the chest with the back of her hand. "You told me you'd wait for me in Altissia! Whatever are you doing here, of all places?"

"Why, my dear, I'm here to put in a good word for you with my Imperial friends," he said jovially, matching her tone. "Come along, then."

"How absolutely _smashing_ of you, darling. You're so very thoughtful."

"It's no effort on my part. And surely you'd rather avoid unnecessary scuffles, seeing as you're now a quartet . . .. Oh, dear. Touchy subject?"

It looked like Iggy was about to say something—his mouth opening and his lungs filling—but he stopped suddenly, and Laura spoke instead.

"Oh, you know how it is with bassists; they're always running off to sow their wild oats," she said waving a casual hand around vaguely. "But honestly, some of the best chamber music is played with a quartet, so it's probably for the best. And what about you? How's the family been?"

Noct had never seen Ardyn react so dramatically to anything he and Laura had said to each other before. His head whipped to hers, his eyes growing hard and his step faltering for the briefest of moments. As he schooled his features back to neutral, his eyes seemed to graze over Noct before focusing on the ruins just ahead.

"Oh, I check in on them from time to time. They're not doing quite as well as I expected, I'm afraid."

"What a shame," Iggy said in mock sympathy.

"Yes, do let us know if there's anything we can do. Chickatrice soup, perhaps?" Laura asked.

"Oh, that's quite all right, my dear. I assure you that you're doing quite enough for me already," he replied, smirking with a sidelong glance at her. "Now if you'll just wait here. Fear not—I'll be but a moment."

Prompto started bouncing on the balls of his feet as Ardyn approached the three people standing guard at the entrance to Steyliff and spoke to the woman standing in the middle.

"Hey!" he whispered, pointing frantically. "It's Aranea!"

"Yeah, Prom," Noct said as he rolled his eyes. "I can see her too."

"All clear!" Ardyn called out, waving them over. "And with that, I regretfully take my leave." He took his douche hat off with a flourish before bowing deeply and ambling in the direction of his car.

"But fate ordains that dearest friends must part. Fare thee well, my love. Until we meet again!" Laura cried out to him, kissing her fingertips and waving.

Ardyn stopped for a moment and turned back to them slowly, a slow grin spreading over his entire face that even seemed to make his eyes twinkle. "Oh, I'm very much looking forward to it."

Really, whatever weirdness that went on between two immortals wasn't even phasing him anymore. Maybe they'd been hanging out with gods and random creeps for too long.

Noct only turned away from Ardyn's retreating back at Aranea's interruption. "So, you're the 'new recruits' they sent over for 'special training.' Nice cover, runaway prince."

Noct wasn't gonna fall for that. Did she really think they were going to give her anything when they'd just seen her talking to Ardyn?

When they all remained silent, she continued. "At ease, 'recruits.' There's nothing in it for this ex-mercenary to turn you in. Let's get this show on the road. Lucky you guys came right as the sun was setting."

"Not luck, we'd heard rumors that the ruins were only accessible at night," Iggy said.

"Well, you heard right. Come on."

As she turned to lead them through the flooded courtyard and up the steps to the entrance, Noct looked up at the high stone walls and tree roots twisted in grotesque shapes that reminded him of snakes. Something about this place made him feel uneasy, but he couldn't really identify what it was. Trying to distract himself from the feeling creeping over him, he looked over at Laura.

"How'd you know to ask him about his family?" he asked in a low voice.

Laura smirked in response. "Ask any immortal about their family—odds are you're going to get some kind of reaction."

"You think we're gonna be okay going down there with her?"

She shrugged. "She doesn't _seem_ dishonest, but that doesn't mean I'm going to trust her. She'll likely report all she learns to Ardyn when we leave."

"So don't let her at our backs and keep our mouths shut, got it."

"What kind of place was this? Any ideas Ignis?" Prompto asked.

"There was a section of almanac I found that states this place was a mausoleum built by the Solheimians. As fire symbolized life in their culture, so water symbolized death, and they utilized the Vesperpool's eerie nature, no doubt, to support these views."

"A mausoleum," he chuckled nervously. "I've always wanted to visit ancient dead people. Wonder what happened to the locals?"

Aranea didn't turn around as she reached the top of the steps to the entrance, her heels clicking and echoing off the stone walls as she strode confidently through the dark corridor. "Why don't we head inside and look for 'em?" she asked, pointing to a flight of stairs that led down.

It grew dark and cold as they descended the steps into the ruins themselves, but it wasn't the chill that made Noct shiver. They'd hunted plenty of daemons in caves and dark forests, but these ruins seemed older, more dangerous, than the other places they'd been to. The place reeked of rotting water and rotting flesh, and that ever-present iciness seemed to leak through his clothes into his own bones as they walked.

"Hey, who left the lights on?" Prompto asked when they'd reached the bottom of the steps, pointing to sinister-looking red lights glowing on the walls of the room they'd just entered. "Maybe the owners are still home."

"Yes, I can feel it, too," Iggy mused in a soft voice.

"What's that, Ig?" Prompto asked as they passed through an arch into a nearly identical room.

"This place feels wrong," Iggy said.

"An abomination against nature," Laura agreed in a near-whisper.

Aranea turned back to them, an eyebrow raised. "Well, aren't you guys just a bundle of laughs? No point bellyaching about it; just keep moving."

The endless maze of freezing cold, dimly-lit rooms with rough-cut, uneven stone floors slowed their progress, especially since the place was crawling with daemons, but it was nothing they couldn't handle. Noct had already known Aranea was good with her stoss spear after fighting her at Fort Vaullerey, but it was pretty cool to see her more aerial fighting style in action when it wasn't being used against them, even if she didn't fly around the room quite as much as he'd hoped as they battled the skeletons and reapers.

"I'm sensing a theme here," Laura said as they finished off another group of skeletons. "This place is infested with the undead." She walked up to the door that led to the next room and ran a hand over the gold rays that came to a point high above their heads and spread out again at the top of the door. Near the top, squiggly gold lines intersected where the rays came to a point. "And this isn't a symbol for fire."

"Oh yeah?" Prompto asked. "What is it then?"

"Looks to me like sun rays being refracted through water. Life . . . piercing through death."

Noct nodded, but it didn't really matter, did it? He wasn't an archaeologist, or whatever, and they weren't there to discover the lost secrets of Solheim. They were there to pick up the mythril and get the hell outta there. He stepped in front of her and pressed the stone in the wall that would open the door.

As it slowly rolled up into the wall with a grinding groan, Iggy said, "Given what we've encountered thus far, that sounds like an accurate assumpt—"

"Whoaaaa," Prompto interrupted.

Noct walked to the railing of the balcony they'd found themselves standing on, feeling like he'd walked into a dream as he looked down over the side to see the dusty floor covered in undulating ribbons of reflected moonlight from above. The towering walls were set apart by evenly-spaced alcoves that reminded Noct eerily of catacombs. But the most ethereal feature of the room was the ceiling, which shifted with the rippling of the Vesperpool's surface. Flashing silver fish floated in midair throughout the hall, making the place seem mystic and surreal.

"That is . . . pretty neat," Aranea said in awe as they walked along the hallway that offered a view of the entire room. "If that's the water's surface . . .."

"Wait, what? Does this mean we're underwater?" Prompto asked, growing nervous. "Whoa. There's even fish."

"Yes, it's beautiful beyond words. And yet I feel . . .." Ignis said in a low voice.

Laura's voice was flat and foreboding, killing the mood a bit as she said, "Dark magic. Looks like Solheim turned dark at some point."

Iggy nodded. "It appears as though something fishy is going on here, indeed. There are too many symbols of necromancy here for it to be a coincidence."

"I don't know," Aranea said, "just looks like fish to me."

Noct had to admit that he agreed with Aranea on this one. Sure, the place was infested with daemons now, but the almanac had said it was a mausoleum at one point. He could see this being a really elaborately decorated tomb to house the dead, even more so than those of his ancestors, but that didn't make it dark, just a little on the creepy and morbid side.

"Well, not even taking into account everything else we've seen in here—the symbols and all the undead daemons," Laura began airily as she looked up at the ceiling, "this room alone proves it. If water symbolizes death, and we're breathing underwater at this very moment, we become the symbol of life after death."

"And there was the bridge that repaired itself back there," Iggy said. "Using time magic, the magic of the gods, to reverse the moment of destruction to become whole again."

Laura nodded. "Exactly. They've twisted the power of Eos to meet their own sick ends."

"That seems like a bit of a stretch," Noct said doubtfully.

"Ugh. I don't know about Solheim or anything, but can we get moving? The sooner we get what we came here for, the sooner we can leave." Prompto said, his voice tremulous.

"Yeah, let's keep moving," Noct agreed.

"Took the words right outta my mouth," Aranea said.

"Course Iggy's gonna agree with whatever she says," Prompto added in a whisper in Noct's ear. "Otherwise he doesn't get any, heh heh."

"Right," Noct sighed, preferring not to be reminded.

As they descended another flight of stairs and fought their way through another endless labyrinth of rooms, Iggy managed to get Aranea talking about the Empire's purpose for their presence in this place—which was to collect daemons to use for weaponry. Although the four of them already knew about daemon weaponry, they pretended to be surprised, hoping the positive feedback would encourage her to reveal more. Noct was kinda shocked this tactic had worked, as most skilled mercenaries like Aranea were well-known for being tight-lipped, but the reasons for her willingness to talk became clearer as they neared the bridge that crossed the room.

"Something not quite right with the Empire lately," she said.

Noct scoffed. "It's not just lately."

"True. Maybe it's time I left—round up my men and hunt daemons for cash."

"Good for you," Laura said with a nod. "Always admire a soldier that thinks with her own brain and not just with those of her superiors."

"Yeah, well, gotta nip the danger in the bud, and the Empire's no exception."

He wondered if that meant they could trust Aranea. From her remarks earlier that night, it seemed as though she didn't trust the Chancellor any more than she trusted the Empire as a whole. It all depended on what she did with them down here in these ruins and what she did with the information when, and if, she let them leave . . . not that the four of them couldn't handle her should it come to that.

Noct was glad someone was paying attention as they crossed the bridge, as he was too busy looking up at the shimmering water above their heads. If he concentrated, he could almost see all the way through the filter of blue to see that the sun looked like it was rising outside. He guessed it had taken them longer than he'd realized to get through that last maze.

"Watch yourself, Noct," Iggy said, flinging a hand out to stop him walking forward, and Noct looked down to see four skeletons, two reapers, and a lich claw their way up out of the ground in their path with a blood curdling screeching sound. Damnit, he should've been paying attention; that was a rookie mistake.

"Looks like we're surrounded," Aranea remarked as Noct felt her back into him, covering him from behind, and he looked over his shoulder to see Laura do the same to Iggy and Prompto.

"What do you have over there?" Iggy asked, not tearing his eyes from the group of daemons slowly floating toward them.

"Four crème brûlées, two skeletons, and two liches. Where do those fit into your whole life and death theory?"

"Cut and run, I should think . . . only way to live," Iggy said with a smirk, summoning his daggers.

"The liches I can understand—animated corpses brought to life to achieve immortality . . . use fire as an attack, too, right? Symbol of life and all that. But the crème brûlées—I'm just thinking someone was on drugs," Laura said.

"They absorb fire, if that helps," Iggy said, flipping a dagger in his hand and tossing it casually by the point into the skull of a skeleton that was getting too close. He summoned the blade back to his hand and stood at the ready again.

"Are you guys always like this?" Aranea asked.

"Like what?" Laura asked. "All Robert Langdon mixed with Indiana Jones?"

"It's only getting wors—" Prompto began, but Iggy cut him off.

"All right, plan of attack—"

Laura interrupted him. "What do you say, Aranea? Boys versus girls? First team to finish wins?"

"But you guys are one girl down," Prompto pointed out.

Aranea chuckled. "Please. From where I'm standing, you boys are the ones at a disadvantage. But what do we get when we win?"

"I dunno, bragging rights?" Noct said.

"Heh, think I've already earned the right to brag, but all right. Let's do this," Aranea said.

"Take out the skeletons first, Noct," Iggy said in a rush. "They're faster and there are more of them. Prompto, hang back and work on the liches and reapers. Ice on the liches, fire on the reapers."

"You got it, Ig," Prompto said, but Iggy had already summoned his polearm and had flipped off to start on the skeletons. Noct jumped in the air with a flip and warp-struck down onto the nearest skeleton, using his blade to crack through its ribs before slashing at the delicate vertebrae of its neck. The second it had crumbled into a pile of bones and miasma, he threw his sword to the next one, warp-striking again once it had hit its mark.

Iggy's strategy sort of fell apart after a while as Noct rolled across the stone floor to find his next target, which ended up being a crème brûlée, in front of him. He cast a quick glance at the battle area to find everyone still standing and working, but all the daemons had shifted and mixed together as the team took them apart from the outside.

"Aww, yeah, baby! Getta taste of these guns," Prompto laughed as a reaper fell to one of his shots.

Stabbing violently at the puddle of mushy goo in front of him, Noct's eyes flitted over to Iggy, who was holding his own pretty well against a lich. All this practical experience since they'd left Insomnia had clearly paid off for him—even more than the others. Looking back on today, Noct couldn't even remember when he'd had to take a potion; he was definitely reacting faster during combat and getting injured less as a result, and it was about time. He also seemed to be leaving Noct at least a little more to his own devices, so hopefully that meant he was starting to trust Noct to at least handle himself some.

That didn't mean Iggy wasn't constantly keeping an eye on him though, apparently. As Noct was about to spin and swipe his sword across the middle of a reaper he saw advancing on him out of the corner of his eye, Specs flitted past to bury a dagger into where its brain should've been.

"No time for a coffee break," Iggy quipped.

"Thanks, Specs."

Aranea shuffled up to Iggy, gesturing to the reaper as he summoned his dagger back to his hand. "Mind if I finish this one off?" she asked with a sly smile.

"No, but I'm loath to make a lady bloody her own hands," he replied, smirking at her.

"Not sure what that's supposed to say about me then," Laura muttered as she tossed a dagger at their last skeleton before jumping up to kick a lich in the face.

"Ha!" Prompto guffawed, pointing his pistol over his shoulder and shooting at the skeleton, finishing it off. "I'd pay money to see what you'd do to him if he ever tried calling you a lady! Last time he tried to keep you out of a battle, you roasted him one!"

"We all in one piece?" Aranea asked when the last daemon had melted into the stone.

"Yeah. Who won?" Prompto asked.

"Sorry, shortcake," Aranea said, shaking her head. "Looks like I still got the right to brag."

No one said another word as they crossed the bridge and made their way through yet another hall of rooms, another maze of daemons—until they reached the floor of the water room, where Prompto broke their silent streak.

"There's sooo gonna be a big nasty here."

"Way to jinx it, Prom," Noct said, chuckling, but he was hoping Prompto would be wrong, unlikely as it was. They'd been in this cold creepy place all night, and he was long past ready to flop onto a nice, soft bed. Even a hot shower would've been good right about now to soothe his aching back and wash the gritty dirt and sticky cobwebs he kept trying to brush off, to no avail.

At Noct's words, a thunderous roar sounded from the bridge they'd crossed earlier, its resonant pitch echoing off the high stone walls and traveling down the many hallways and alcoves, making the sound seem to go on forever.

The creature responsible for the roar was huge, of course—covered in bright blue scales that glittered in the light from above, making it look like a living sapphire. Streaks of scarlet scales ran through the spines of its wings, which were so large they seemed to double the size of the thing. Noct had never seen a daemon like it, but it sort of looked like a cross between a seadevil, a bird, and a fish.

"That's not a daemon. What the hell is that thing?" Aranea asked.

"Oh my gods," Laura breathed, her face growing pale as she clutched at the pendant around her neck. "It's a dragon."

Noct had never heard of a dragon, so he looked to Iggy, who was shooting some kinda meaningful look at Laura. He held her gaze for a moment before turning to Noct.

"It's a quetzalcoatl, weak to polearms, daggers, and ice. It attacks from above and uses lightning as a primary means for defense—besides the claws and teeth, of course."

"The Aztec god of wisdom associated with dawn," Laura muttered, shaking her head, but she was still pale and gripping her necklace like a lifeline. "This place isn't half subtle with names taken from ancient civilizations, but I'd like to officially call bullshit on Solheim being fire worshippers now."

"It's an animal though, right?" Noct asked, hoping the question was obvious enough she'd understand its real meaning without letting Aranea on to the fact that Laura had her eccentric animal thing.

She nodded. "You'll need my help for this one though," she said, her face growing whiter as she closed her eyes. "Be sure t—to aim for the wings and—" she took a deep breath, "once it's grounded, attack just below the left armpit—where the h—h—heart is."

What was her problem? It wasn't like she hadn't killed animals before—hundreds of them during that week they had to walk to Wiz's. She almost seemed to be shaking as she stared wide-eyed up at the creature on the bridge. So much for not showing any weakness in front of Aranea. If she did report back to Ardyn, he was gonna find out that Laura was terrified of killing quetzalcoatls.

Iggy seemed to stare her down for a moment, passing on some kinda hidden message with his eyes, but she shook her head a little and stared back up at the quetzalcoatl.

"Come on, enough analyzing," Noct said, summoning his ice spear. "Let's get this over with."

The quetzalcoatl slowly raised its enormous wings and flapped, making the air around them vibrate with deep drum beats as it ascended to hover over them before swooping over their heads. It landed on the ground behind them, digging its massive claws into the stone and letting loose another mighty, echoing roar. Then it gathered itself to run through them, its nails scratching and screeching against the rock, its serpentine neck tossing and wriggling from side to side as it shrieked and snapped at them.

As the creature hurtled through their party, the five of them surrounded the quetzalcoatl on both sides and stabbed at its neck, wings, ribs, and tail. Aranea took to the air to land on its back, burying the tip of her lance deep into the base of its neck. The creature reared back, screaming in pain and shaking Aranea hard before they both rose into the air again.

"Remember to aim for the wings!" Iggy called out to them all.

"Absolutely no prob!" Prompto responded, alternating shots between his left and right pistols as he aimed for a different wing with each hand.

"Nice goin', Prom," Noct said before warping up to the animal. It was too dangerous for him to aim for the flapping wings, so he did his best to aim for the heart and the rest of its body as it lunged in an attempt to grasp him from the air while aiming lightning strikes at the party below. It seemed to follow Noct back to the ground as he landed—vicious and swift as it swooped down over them, aiming more balls of lightning that exploded the stone with glowing blue bolts, electrocuting them all.

"Hey Four-Eyes, you gonna turn this around or what?" Aranea asked, bumping Iggy's shoulder with hers and smirking, but her face was starting to look a little haggard from the battle.

Iggy frowned and tossed another dagger at the wing on the opposite side of the quetzalcoatl that Laura was executing a warp-strike on.

"Would I were only able."

Noct couldn't take any more after the third time the electricity arced through his body, setting his nerves on fire and making him shake with pain. From the looks of things, the entire group was in bad condition, including Laura, who didn't seem to be handling the battle with her usual skill. He hoped she wasn't playing some sort of game for Aranea's sake like she'd done with Ravus. But it didn't matter what was going on right now because they all needed medical attention.

"Iggy, call 'em together!"

"Everyone, regroup!" Iggy responded, and the four of them rushed to his side to recover. Noct looked over in time to see Laura's eyes widen briefly in surprise as Iggy's blue-green healing sparkles covered her body before she reached out to quickly squeeze his hand.

It was Ignis who dealt the final blows to the beast. Drawing his arm back with his own ice spear in hand, he ran three steps closer to it, leaning forward as he hurled the weapon true to where Laura had instructed and immediately followed the blow with an ice spell. The quetzalcoatl let out one final ear-splitting howl before falling hard on the ground, almost sending Noct to his knees with the vibration traveling up the bones in his legs.

But he was no longer paying attention to the quetzalcoatl because Iggy actually did drop to his knees before hitting the ground hard, his face draining of color as he clutched at his heart.

"Ignis!" Noct cried out, rushing to his side and trying to push aside those images of him lying dead just outside the glacial grotto. His eyes were closed and his face as pale as death, but he appeared to still be breathing. Noct summoned a hi-potion to crack over his chest, but it had no effect. What was wrong with him? Noct hadn't even seen anything hit him.

"Oh, man, what's wrong with him?" Prompto asked.

"I don't know!" Noct growled in frustration.

Gladio and Iggy were the ones who always did most of the medical stuff, and with Gladio gone and Specs the one inexplicably injured . . . that only left Laura. He looked up, searching for what could possibly be taking her so long to get here, and he found her several feet away on all fours—heaving on the ground as Aranea leaned over her. Great, so she was doing her weird post-animal killing thing that she only seemed to do sometimes while Iggy could be here dying.

Noct placed two fingers to his neck to check his pulse, but leapt back in shock when Iggy gasped violently, his eyes going wide.

"Hey, Ig," Prompto said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

He was still pale and clutching a hand to his heart, but his voice sounded okay as he said, "I believe I'm all right. A touch of dizziness, that's all."

"Uh, you sure? You were kinda passed out there for a sec."

Laura finally rushed over to Iggy's side as he was sitting up. She kneeled on the ground next to him, placing a hand on his other shoulder.

"Are you all right? I'm so sorry," she said in a low voice so that Aranea couldn't hear from where she was slowly walking toward them. "You _should_ have said something sooner!"

"I'm . . . just gonna go and pick up the mythril now that everything's okay," Prompto said, pointing to where the ore sat innocently under the bridge. "Be right back."

Iggy nodded to Laura, and Noct offered a hand to help him up. He seemed to teeter on his feet for a moment before steadying, his eyes still overly wide and his face still pale.

"What just happened?" Noct asked.

Iggy pulled his jacket straight and adjusted his glasses on his nose. "Apologies, a miscalculation on my part. I won't allow it to interfere with my duties again."

How long was it gonna take him to get it through his thick skull that his duty was second to his life?

"To hell with duty, Specs! I just wanna know you're okay!"

Iggy nodded once sharply, and Noct realized he wouldn't answer now that Aranea had neared them.

"Hey," Aranea said, placing a hand on Ignis's chest and looking into his face. "You don't look so good. Wanna get outta here and get some air?"

"Got it!" Prompto said, coming up beside Noct and handing him the ore.

Prompto looked over at Iggy, who was looking down at Aranea's hand on his chest, his brow furrowed. Noct and Prompto both turned their heads to see Laura's reaction, but she only had eyes for the corpse behind them.

"I can't even bury him with Aranea here," she whispered, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Laura," Prompto said as he put a hand on her shoulder and smiled softly. "Think of this place as one big, beautiful tomb for it."

Laura picked his hand up off her shoulder and ducked under his arm, leaning into his side as he wrapped his hand around her bicep.

"You're sweet. Thanks for trying, Prom," she said with a sigh.

Noct, Prompto, and Laura followed behind Aranea, who led Iggy up to the surface by his elbow. Noct and Prompto both kept looking at Laura for any sign of jealousy, but she wasn't even paying them any attention, still leaning into Prompto's side and seemingly lost in thought.

By the time they left the eerie entrance with the twisted tree roots, Specs was looking much better—the color coming back to his cheeks and his gait growing stronger as they sloshed through the flooded entrance to higher ground. His phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket to check the screen before holding up a finger and walking away from the group so he could take the call undisturbed.

"Before I forget," Aranea began, "His Excellency instructed me to give you boys a ride back. If you need a lift, feel free to hop on."

Though Noct suspected Aranea was nothing like Ardyn, he'd learned his lesson about getting in Magitek engines with people he didn't know. He wasn't really feeling up to living through another week of hell, thanks.

"I think we got it. Thanks though."

Aranea shrugged, "Whatever floats your boat, besides mythril, that is."

"Aww man, so we're camping here today?" Prompto complained as Aranea turned and walked away.

"Can't ask Iggy to drive after being up all night and whatever the hell that was back there," Noct answered.

Laura looked over at him. "Don't worry about Ignis. We can stop at the haven to change, if you want. But then you guys can sleep, and I'll do the driving—wherever we need to go."

"Which appears to be Lestallum," Iggy said quietly as he rejoined them. "I've just received word from Cindy. Her friend works as an engineer at the power plant, and she'll refine the mythril to suit our needs."

"Uh huh, and that'll take care of our boat problem. Perfect!" Prompto said with a smile. "Let's head to the haven then. I'm ready for a dry pair of boots before my nap!"

It was kind of weird having Laura drive the car, but unsurprisingly, she handled the Regalia just as smoothly as Iggy always did. Noct noticed that even Specs was able to settle back into the passenger seat and relax a little, something he never did when any of the rest of them were driving.

"What do you suppose the Chancellor's role was in all of this?" Iggy asked no one in particular.

"I don't know," Laura replied. "The only thing we got from him was Aranea, so he was likely using her as a spy. She knew exactly why we were there. But was there more to it than that? Was he trying to make some connection to him and the secrets of that dungeon?"

"But the ruins are too old to have anything to do with Niflheim. What could they possibly have to do with our quest today? Though I suppose he may be old enough to have been involved in Solheim's darker work himself."

"Maybe that's how he achieved immortality himself—in Solheim. Or maybe he's trying to make some parallel connection to modern times. Noct, were there any factions that you know of in Lucis that were secretly dark?"

Ignis scoffed. "Please. If you're going to ask anyone in this car that question, it would be me. I'm the one who attended all his meetings. But no, there were no factions that I know of that dabbled in necromancy or anything of the sort."

"Hey, I went to some of the meetings," Noct protested. "They were just so boring."

"Indeed you did, Highness," Ignis replied indulgently, and Noct smiled a little at his friend's support.

"Perhaps this is some kind of hint then to let us know what the Empire is secretly up to. If they're harvesting daemons to make weapons like Aranea said, necromancy isn't far off," Laura said.

"We've no way of knowing until we have more information, I'm afraid," Iggy said.

"You guys ever think you think too much?" Prompto asked.

Iggy turned his head toward Laura, and Noct could just make out a little smile on the corner of his lips.

"Sometimes. But it's usually preferable to the alternative. However, sometimes . . . I think I enjoy not thinking. I can see why you prefer it."

"Mee-ow!" Prompto said, leaning forward to hit Iggy on both shoulders with each syllable. "Iggy's feeling sassy today. Must be all that attention from Aranea."

"Yeah, Specs, think you got yourself a new admirer," Noct said with a laugh.

Prompto waggled his eyebrows and sang, "Looks like Laura's got some competitionnnnn."

Iggy huffed. "I'm inclined to disagree."

"Yep, it's true; she had a bit of a thing there," Laura agreed.

"And you're . . . okay with that?" Prompto asked.

No matter how many times Noct thought about it, he just didn't get the whole friends with benefits thing Laura and Iggy had going on. They seemed to care about each other just as much as they cared about the rest of the group, but then they'd go off pretty much every morning and do their thing and then not care if they did it with other people? Laura, he could understand. Specs was probably just a kid to have a good time with. But Iggy? Maybe the rest of Insomnia would've thought that kind of detached relationship was perfect for him because everyone thought of him as cold, but Noct just didn't figure him for the type only interested in getting laid—or he would've done it before now. He guessed he'd been wrong though.

"Eh, whatever," Laura said, shrugging a shoulder. "It's a point in her favor; she has good taste. Except in battle armor. I get it's good for flying, but all it takes is for someone to grab those things from behind in a battle and snap her neck or pull her to the ground."

"Is that why you took the cape off your Glaive uniform?" Prompto asked.

"Yeah. Honestly, how do you expect women to move on the battlefield if you're attaching bedsheets to their backs? It's not worth the impressive silhouette it provides. I'm sure it looks sexy and all, but I would rather be alive and hideous than dead and sexy any day."

"Heh heh. And what about dead sexy?" Prompto asked.

Losing interest in the conversation, Noct leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again at the sound of the pitch of the engine decreasing, seemingly a minute later, the sun was setting as Laura slowed to pull into the gas station at Lestallum.

"How fast did you drive to get us here this quick?" he asked.

She shrugged as she got out of the car to refuel. "Fast enough. After Ignis fell asleep, I didn't have to worry about anyone shrieking in my ear to slow down."

"It appears Cindy has given Holly my number," Ignis said, ignoring the implied insult and looking at his phone. "There's an issue with daemons in the power plant. It seems we need to handle the situation while she refines the mythril."

"Well then, let's park the car and do it," Noct said.

* * *

Noct wasn't particularly surprised when he and 'the hunter' stepped outside, and 'the hunter' took off his thermal suit helmet to reveal that Gladio had been the one helping him kill the daemons infesting the power plant.

"Did you really expect some kinda big reveal?" Noct asked, laughing. "Not like I haven't heard that voice since I was a kid or anything."

But he was really, really glad to see Gladio—alive and back and (mostly) whole. He didn't even complain or pull away when Gladio cuffed him around the neck and rubbed a fist through his hair.

"I dunno," Gladio said as he let him go and unzipped his suit. "Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that head of yours—if anything."

"I got a few surprises in me," Noct said, stepping out of his suit and draping it over the gate at the entrance to the plant.

Holly approached them, waving with a smile. "Great work in there! And as promised, here's your mythril."

"Thanks," Noct said, taking the mythril bar from her with a nod.

He heard the pounding of galloping feet echoing across the courtyard and looked up to see Prompto skipping up to them, a bright smile on his face. Iggy and Laura followed up the rear at a slower pace, Laura with a grin to match Prompto's and Iggy with his lips quirked up a little. No one seemed surprised to see Gladio with him, and it took him a second to realize that Laura had probably figured it out while they were daemon hunting inside and told the others.

"Hey, Big Guy!" Prompto cried out, leaping up to Gladio and slapping him hard on the back.

"The one and only!"

"Good to have you back," Iggy said smoothly as he and Laura approached.

Laura walked up to Gladio and seemed to stare up into his eyes for a moment, searching his face and no doubt taking note of the new scar across his forehead. She looked down at his chest and ran her fingertips gently over the still angry-looking, ropey scar slashed from his pecs to his abs.

"Whoa, someone did a number on you," Prompto said, pointing.

Gladio looked up from watching Laura and smiled smugly, "You should see the other guy. Anyway, I'm back and better than ever."

"You're a fracking idiot," she said sternly before jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck. Gladio spun her in a circle, kissing her on the cheek with a laugh, and Noct had to step back so he didn't get kicked by her feet flying up behind her with the movement.

"Yeah, well, can't let you guys have the corner market on that shit." He grinned as he put her down. Gladio looked up and waved to someone across the courtyard, and Noct turned to spot Iris and Dustin heading towards them.

"I'm going to make you an offer, but you don't have to take me up on it if you don't want to," Laura said.

"You've got my attention, Princess," Gladio said, leering and waggling his eyebrows.

"I can heal those scars for you. Even your old one, now that I think of it. Or not. I know some people like to keep them."

But Gladio was shaking his head before she'd even finished. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm good. Not giving these up for anything."

"All right, just thought I'd ask."

"Noct? Gladdy?! I can't believe it!" Iris giggled, jumping up and down in excitement, and Noct backed away a little in case she tried to hug him. He liked Iris as a friend and all, but he wasn't completely blind. He knew she'd had a thing for him for years now, but she was so young—only just about to start Tenth Year—and even more dangerously . . . Gladio's sister. He had to be careful handling rejecting her too, or he'd probably get a fist in his face, Prince or not. Noct found it easier to just avoid her advances as much as possible.

"So! You guys got your hands on some mythril? In that case, I'll go deliver it to Cid. Come meet me in Caem when you're ready!" Iris took the mythril from him and gave him a little wave. "See you later, Noct!"

"So what are we gonna do now?" Prompto asked after they'd left.

"There are still two more Royal Tombs we need to visit before we can depart," Iggy said, "the Tomb of the Tall near Kettier Highland and the Tomb of the Fierce, which Jared's diary tells us lies at the top of the Rock of Ravatogh."

"Ooooh! Can we go to Ravatogh first Noct? We can get those photos Vyv wants!" Prompto said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Doesn't matter to me," Noct shrugged. "We should probably stop by Costlemark Tower after the Tomb of the Tall and pick up that emerald Dino wanted last time we were in Galdin, too."

Prompto punched a fist into the air. "Yessss! Fame and fortune, here I come!"

"Hold on there, pipsqueak," Gladio said. "Some of us have been out killin' shit all night. Sleep first."

"Agreed," Iggy said with a nod. "We'll leave in the morning."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

As you can see, some off-screen tomb raiding happened here, and I'm told that it would have been impossible for them to get to that area in the game before. Guess what? I did it anyway for pacing purposes. I know I also mentioned the self-repairing bridge before they would have seen it in the game...and again, deliberate for pacing purposes.

Some of the interpretation of this dungeon is my own work, but most of it is from the same source as the Solheim history from the Ardyn chapter. I'll post a link to his work when there are no more spoilers to reveal...in the Pitioss chapter.


	39. Chapter 39

The grassy forest gave way to gravel and boulders as Iggy drove along the winding road leading to Ravatogh, and Prompto tried to get as many shots as he could when their angle between the formation and the mountains gave them a decent view. As they drew closer, Laura narrowed her eyes, staring at the mountain intently before getting on her knees to lean over Noct and get a closer look.

"I've always wondered about the shape of that thing," she said. "Any idea of the history behind it?"

"Here we go again," Noct muttered, rolling his eyes.

Iggy shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know. Perhaps we can obtain some information at the outpost when we arrive."

"Is there a history of people going up there and . . . surviving?" she asked hesitantly.

Prompto always hated it when Laura used that tone of voice. It usually meant that something really, really bad was gonna happen, and after Steyliff, he'd been hoping for a nice hike, some good shots, and a fat paycheck from Vyv. He guessed he should've known better by now, what with a tomb being up there and all. Seemed like bad stuff always happened when they got Royal Arms.

"My dad must've gone up there for the tomb, and Vyv said he and Oric went up there once," Noct said.

She tilted her head, looking doubtfully up at the Rock. "And people live out here, right? There's an outpost and everything. Does the place have a higher-than-normal reputation for people going missing?"

"Not that I've heard," Ignis said.

Gladio turned around in the front seat, peering back at her with a frown. "What's on your mind, Princess?"

She shook her head as she sat back down in her seat, still staring up at the rock looming above them. "I couldn't see it until we got closer, but there in the smoke . . . that mountain is leaking Starscourge."

Oh, man, he knew it. Just when they'd gotten an assignment that made him the important one, they were all gonna kill themselves or turn into daemons on some crazy misadventure. He closed his eyes and collapsed into the door while the others cursed and exclaimed their surprise at her news.

"Maybe we're still too far for your eyes to see it. Can you make out the purplish-black particles in the air mixed with the grey smoke? It's what's making the smoke seem darker than it should. I'd always wondered about that when we drove by, but we were always too far away for me to see it."

"So does this mean we're all gonna get infected if we go up there?" Prompto asked.

"Based on what you guys just told me, I'd say the chances are slim, but then again, it's not like any of us are safe from the scourge anywhere if we don't know how it's passed on."

"Yeah, that's encouraging. Thanks Laura," Prompto said with a nod. "Just when I thought we could go on a nice, easy adventure with me as the hero for once . . .." He chuckled weakly.

When they arrived at Verinas Mart, Prompto stuck with Gladio, browsing the shelves and fighting the urge to try a dozen Ravatoghian hot spring eggs while Iggy spoke with the clerk about selling some of the hides and horns they'd gotten from their hunts—and probably picking up one of the Iron Shelf books he'd been collecting on their journey so far. Iggy was always good about saving their stuff until they were far from the region they'd gotten it from to get more gil when he sold it. From the sound of it, he was trying to offload some of their stuff from Leide; he had a sharp head fin in his hand that he was showing to the clerk.

Noct had stayed outside to check out the food stall and talk to the vendor about hunts they could pick up in the area. Prompto wished they didn't have to stay long enough to take any hunts at all, after what Laura had said about the mountain leaking Starscourge, but Iggy seemed to think it was safe enough to do a couple and save money for Altissia. Still—the sooner they left this place, the better.

Prompto looked around the little shop, which was surprisingly crowded for its size, but he didn't spot Laura; she must've stayed outside with Noct.

A clatter from the clerk's desk sounded over the buzz of all the chattering people, and Gladio and Prompto looked over to see that Ignis had dropped the fin on the counter. He seemed to be staring past the clerk, his eyes wide.

"What's wrong?" Iggy demanded.

"I—nothing, sir," said the clerk, turning to look behind him to see what Iggy was reacting to.

He shook his head. "Apologies. I wasn't speaking to you. 1,900 gil should be adequate. Thank you." Once the clerk handed him the money, Iggy rushed out the door, gently shouldering his way through the crowd with several mutterings of "pardon me."

"What happened with him while I was gone?" Gladio asked in a low voice. "He's not as bad as the day at the beach, but he's had this look in his eyes—and now whatever the hell that just was."

"You shoulda seen him the day after you left. He was doing stuff like that all the time; he's almost normal now though," Prompto said from behind his hand. Then he slapped lightly at Gladio's shoulder and motioned for him to follow. "Let's go see where he went."

They sidled behind the food cart, and he gave Noct a little wave and a nod as he and Gladio stopped out of sight behind the pillar, where they could see Iggy and Laura standing on the other side of the Regalia.

"We agreed to cut it off for the hunts, and I understand that logic. What I don't understand is why you're cutting me off now," Iggy was saying to Laura, his voice sounding frustrated.

"Because whatever this is, it's painful enough to distract me. And if it's distracting me, it's going to distract you," she replied. "You know as well as I do that it won't do either of us any good if we get ourselves killed."

"Yes, I suppose," he said with a sigh. "Being cut off isn't a particularly pleasant experience either."

"Which is why I waited this long. It's not like I'm gone. You can still feel me, yeah?"

Iggy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.

Gladio tugged on Prompto's arm and pulled him back to the shop entrance, past Noct, who was speaking to the cart vendor and probably pretending like he hadn't heard anything.

"I think we've heard too much. Give 'em their privacy," Gladio said in a low voice.

But Prompto couldn't help it. Something had been going on with Iggy for like a week now, and this was the first time he'd ever seen him and Laura discussing anything privately.

"Cut off from what? Do you think . . .? You don't think they're talking about _sex_ do you?"

Gladio shook his head, the corners of his mouth tugging down in disapproval. "Why's everything gotta be about sex with you? This is why we shouldn't've been eavesdropping. I've already heard way more than I wanted to. Not gonna sit here and speculate on it."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. TMI, and all," he mumbled, starting to feel a little guilty about prying. But their relationship was just so weird and so private—not to mention the only source of nice and safe drama on the road. He _wanted_ them to be together, skipping through fields of flowers, happy and in love, and he'd been curious about finding evidence of them hiding some kinda whirlwind romance. No such luck so far though. No one would even know they were together if it weren't for the fake sparring matches.

Noct turned to them when he'd finished with the cart vendor. "Got three hunts in the area."

"We should hit those first," Gladio said. "We're all gonna be wiped after the Rock."

Noct nodded. "I'll call the chocobos while you get Specs and Laura."

Prompto repeated the plan to Iggy and Laura as he led them to where Noct was waiting with the chocobos, and Iggy estimated there would be just enough time to get a picture of the cave Vyv wanted and get to the haven before nightfall before heading to the tomb the next morning. The hunts ended up being pretty easy, so they were running on Iggy's schedule as they collected their bounties, got back in the Regalia, and parked at the base of the Rock.

Laura looked up at the formation as they hiked to the entrance, her eyes darting back and forth over the plume of smoke and the glowing red branches extending out from the top.

"I found another almanac entry over by the gas station while you all were shopping," she said.

"Oh yeah? What'd it say?" Prompto asked.

He had to admit he didn't really care about the history thing she and Iggy shared, but he liked the way her eyes would light up and how she would talk faster when he showed interest. Both she and Iggy seemed really happy when he asked questions about the stuff they made remarks on, and since they always showed interest in his pictures by helping him with shots or being patient while he asked for different poses, he figured it was the least he could do.

"Legend says the body of Ifrit lies buried deep within the heart of the volcano."

Noct nodded. "Explains the shape. Always thought those tree branch things kinda look like his horns. I remember from the pictures in the cosmogony book Luna gave me."

"So does that mean Ifrit's burning corpse is the source of all the Starscourge on Eos?" Gladio asked.

"It's possible," Ignis mused. "It's well-known that Ifrit turned on the others during the War of the Astrals, but official sources are unclear as to why. There are vague references to Ifrit turning on Solheim for some unnamed sin and the other five fighting against him to save humanity."

"Maybe cause of that necromancy stuff we found in the Vesperpool," Prompto cut in before Iggy could get there himself. It was rare he had the opportunity to be useful in one of these conversations, and he was gonna take advantage of any opening he could get.

"That's definitely a possibility, Prom, and Ifrit being the source of the scourge on the planet also, but it doesn't explain how he got infected in the first place," Laura said.

Iggy kicked casually at a rock before looking up, where Ravatogh was obscured by a layered, pitted cliff face. "Perhaps we'll glean more information while at the summit."

Prompto didn't know much about nature besides what he found pretty enough to take a picture of, but he remembered his Eosian Science classes in school well enough to tell that the rippling floors of flat rock they were walking on had probably once been lava. As the space between the steep cliffs grew narrower and Prompto's trigger fingers started itching at being in the confined space, he began feeling grateful for the sure footing as the path inclined enough to make even him breathless. He'd gotten to the point where he could run for hours without stopping, but it wasn't like there were too many opportunities to practice uphill running like this back home.

Laura hung back near Prompto as Noct finally got tired enough to slow down a little. "Hey," she said with a smile, "mind if I hang out with you today? Anything we run across isn't likely to be a daemon."

He liked days like this when Laura stayed with him. It got kind of lonely, trailing in back so he could be far enough away to take shots when the fights started, and sometimes it made him feel a little vulnerable to attack from behind. Not only was she nice to hang out with, he also felt that little bit of extra security to have backup should he need it. But when it came to the group battles, it seemed like they were starting to get good enough to not even need her as a safety net.

Herds of spiracorns and saphyrtails roamed the narrow trails, lunging for the group viciously the moment they came into view from behind a boulder. With each assault, Prompto would surge forward, summoning a pistol or the circular saw Cid had helped him upgrade while they were in Caem, while Laura hung back and kept an eye on their backs.

As Noct drove his sword into the ribs of the last spiracorn in the area, Prompto took his place next to her again as they jogged after the others. Prompto had to stop for a second in awe and dread, however, as Noct, Gladio, and Iggy left the sure footing of the rock and strode purposefully onto what looked like fine, slippery sugar. Their progress slowed drastically as the incline of the hill became ridiculous, and from his vantage point, Prompto could see the long, impossible climb they had ahead of them.

"Whoa," he said quietly to Laura as they stepped onto the sand together. "It's like walking up a slippery slide. And it might go on forever!"

"Yeah," she mumbled, dragging her feet a little. "Looks like it's gonna be a fun day."

The climb was one of the most horrible hikes Prompto could ever remember being on, and that included the rush from the mines in Keycatrich all those weeks ago and that time Gladio had to carry Laura's unconscious body to the car. It wasn't just steep; it was practically vertical, and as they ascended higher and the ground over the cliff to their left got farther away, that slippery sand made it more likely they would fall to their deaths the first time they put their feet somewhere wrong. Since Prompto wasn't in the mood to die today, he kept it slow, for once not really caring how fast the others were going, and Laura stayed right next to him, digging her feet into the sand before shifting her weight up to calculate her next step. They all needed to stop on each flat outcropping of rock they could find to catch their breath, and Prompto would lean over with his hands on his knees until he felt like the world had stopped spinning.

"Man, I can't believe Vyv ever thought he could make it up here himself," Prompto said as he recovered on what looked like was gonna be their last break before the top. "This climb's a beast! He musta been insane for coming here alone all those years ago."

"Yes, it was fortunate he was found before he succumbed to the elements," Ignis said.

"Hey, Princess, you all right over there?" Gladio asked.

Prompto turned to Laura, who had been oddly silent since they started the climb. He'd noticed as they'd walked together that she hadn't been her normal cheery self, and he wondered if it had anything to do with cutting Iggy off from whatever it was. Even though the rest of them had already caught their breaths for this break, and it looked like Noct was about ready to head up again, Laura was still panting, bent over with her hands on her knees and her mouth open as her body heaved with the effort. That was pretty weird. She didn't really get out of breath as often as the rest of them, and when she did, she was usually the first to recover.

"Yeah, just fine, babe," she wheezed. "Probably just been sitting in that car too long. Getting out of shape."

"Or maybe you're just gettin' old. You ever think of that?" Noct teased.

She barked out a weak laugh. "Think I passed the point of old a long time ago, but I'll admit it's a possibility."

"Come on. We got, what? Forty more feet? It'll be better knowing we won't have to start back up again," he said, patting her arm and stepping up off the landing.

As Gladio turned to follow, Iggy stopped for a moment and inclined his head to look at Laura intensely. "Are you all right?"

She tried to give him one of her crazy grins, but even Prompto wasn't falling for it, as she couldn't even close her teeth all the way. "I'm always all right. Go on. I'm coming."

"Stay close to me, okay?" Prompto said to her as they started up again, and she nodded in response.

They didn't have that much farther to go, but she had slowed down so much as she tried to get enough air. The other three had already made it to the top and were watching them climb the last few feet. Prompto wished he could speed up and just take the last few steps to get it over with, but he stayed back with her as she labored her way up.

They were so close, almost close enough to reach out and grab Gladio's and Iggy's outstretched hands, when Laura disappeared without a sound out of the corner of his eye.

"LAURA!" he yell, trying to reach a hand back to grab for her, but she was already gone. The sudden shift of his body weight to his back foot caused the silky sand to gather and slip beneath him, and he would've tumbled after her had Gladio not grabbed a fistful of his vest at the back of his neck and hauled him up.

"ROSE!" Prompto heard Iggy shout, and as Prompto's feet hit solid ground, he looked over to see Iggy's terrified face before turning to see what had happened to Laura.

Prompto felt like shit as they all watched her slide down the embankment, gaining speed as her nails failed to make purchase in the slippery sand. Six, she'd been right there next to him; he should've caught her before she fell. He'd known she was having a rough time; he should've been paying more attention. And _oh gods,_ she was so close to the edge as she kept sliding. He could see her left leg hang over the cliff for a second as she attempted to curl her body around the rockier edge, but she'd gained too much momentum for it to slow her down much. She seemed to slide forever until she suddenly stopped short—her right foot finally catching on the landing they'd just left.

"Six damn," Noct muttered.

"Hey, are you all right down there?" Gladio called to her.

"Fine. Just slipped." Her voice sounded small to Prompto, and he didn't think it had anything to do with the distance.

"I'm so sorry you guys," Prompto told them, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing. They all probably knew it was his fault anyway, so he might as well apologize for it.

"No, Prompto," Iggy said in a harsh tone, still staring down the hill. "She would have taken you down with her, and one of you would have most certainly ended up over the side had you fallen together."

Noct turned to Iggy. "I could warp down there and climb back up here with her."

Ignis shook his head. "Inadvisable. Even if you managed to land precisely on the rock without toppling over yourself, you may knock her off balance. If you'll all please give me a moment to think."

"No," she called up to them. "You all stay there. Just give me a second to catch my breath and I'll start back up again."

Iggy summoned something from the armiger—a thin, white cord that was usually staked to the ground to stretch the fabric of the tent taut.

"You mean we don't got a rope?" Gladio asked.

"It's one of the items the armiger won't take, I'm afraid. This is all we have." Searching the ground around him, he leaned over to pick up a small rock and tied it to one end of the cord.

"We're throwing down a rope . . . of sorts," Iggy said, tossing the rock with one hand and holding on to the cord with the other. "It's likely not sturdy enough to pull you up, but you can use it for additional support."

After a few tries, Laura managed to grab the end of the cord and tie it tightly a couple of times around her waist. She waited a few more minutes to catch her breath before she dropped to her hands and knees to crawl her way up the incline. Even though the wider distribution of weight made her seem steadier, it looked to Prompto like she was having a harder time planting her knees in a safe place in the sand. It was agony watching her as she creeped up those last forty feet, as she paused with every move forward to make sure each hand or knee was in a secure spot before continuing. Iggy was silent, his breath ragged and as he concentrated intensely on pulling the slackening cord.

When she got close enough to the top to reach, Iggy dropped to his knees in the dirt, holding his hand out as far as he could reach and saying softly, "Give me your hand."

The moment he had her, he yanked her up, continuing to pull as he sat back and dragged her body across his lap. He stroked his gloved fingertips over her face as she gulped for air, whispering words Prompto couldn't hear, and this was the proof he'd been looking for—this _was_ more than a casual fuck buddies thing after all. This looked like actual affection. This looked like dating. Iggy had even called her by her alias from when he was a kid, which was a little weird, but Prompto wasn't gonna judge. He just wished he hadn't finally gotten his proof as her gasping body shuddered in Iggy's arms.

Prompto looked over at Noct to see his eyes wide with shock at this willing display from the two of them. Yeah, both he and Noct had been totally wrong about them, but Gladio didn't really look all that surprised. Had he known all along they were dating?

Prompto wanted that so badly. But it'd been so hard just to make the four friends he had. He'd pretty much resigned himself to definitely not finding a girl on the road, since they kept moving so much. But maybe once he finished this crazy thing they were on, maybe once he'd done enough to prove himself a hero, girls would be more interested in him. Maybe Cindy would be more interested in him. That day he'd helped her out in Caem, he'd followed Laura's and Iggy's advice exactly, and he'd found it really interesting to talk about her efforts to reverse engineer those daemon-repelling headlights they'd gotten for the Regalia. But he'd be lying to himself if he didn't say he wasn't a little disappointed that she hadn't tried to flirt with him at all those hours he'd worked beside her.

When Iggy and Laura finished with their . . . whatever it was, Iggy helped Laura to stand before a mask of calm seemed to settle over his face, but it was too late. They'd all already seen him in that private moment, and he couldn't take it back.

"Apologies for the delay," he said stiffly, gesturing forward with a hand. "We're ready to resume our duties. Let us continue."

Laura took her spot next to Prompto again, and he started to reach for her hand, but she snatched it away. It hurt his feelings more than it should've to see her pull away like that when she never had before, but when he looked down, he understood. Her hands were a mess—her fingernails torn and ragged and fingertips dripping with pearly blood.

"I'm sorry, Prom," she said, giving him a sympathetic look, reaching for his shoulder, but she stopped herself. "Come on. Sooner we start back up, the sooner we can get out of here."

As Iggy and Gladio took their usual places behind Noct and he and Laura followed up the rear, Prompto took a moment to study her. She looked bone white, and even though they were no longer walking uphill, her lips were still parted as she breathed.

"It's not just the climb, is it?" he asked quietly. "Something's wrong. Is it the Starscourge?"

She shook her head again. "It's like those first days back in Insomnia; it hurts to breathe."

"Oh. I'm not feeling weird around you or anything though. Would it help if you touched my arm again?"

"Sorry, Prom, but no. Touching any of you is excruciating right now."

Prompto thought of that moment she and Iggy had just had, where she'd shuddered as he'd stroked her face, and figured Iggy must not have known he'd been hurting her.

"Do me a favor?" she asked.

"Anything."

"Tell me the exact second you feel even a little bit like you want to kill me."

"Oh. Yeah . . . sure. So that's gonna happen again?" If so, he wasn't looking forward to it. No matter how many animals and people he'd killed, never in his life had he ever actually _wanted_ to kill anything, except that first day leaving Insomnia. He'd thought he'd been going crazy when he'd first slid into the seat next to her in the Regalia. From that very first moment, she'd been nothing but nice, but he couldn't stop thinking about how good it would feel to put a bullet in her brain. It'd actually been a relief that night to hear that he wasn't turning into some psychopathic monster—that it was an energy incompatibility thing.

"I don't know. Maybe," she said.

They encountered a flock of wyverns and thunderocs as they made their way up the path, and Prompto left Laura behind to sit on a rock as he caught up to the other guys.

"I hate bastards that fly," Gladio complained.

Prompto happened to love bastards that fly, because that was his time to shine. Summoning the new rebellion he'd just picked up at the arms dealer outside Verinas Mart, he took aim at the ones that seemed most interested in swooping down to nip at Noct, Iggy, and Gladio. A few shots would knock it to the ground for Iggy and Gladio to take care of, but Prompto had to be careful not to hit Noct as he warp-struck up to the creatures.

"Nice job, Prom," Noct said when they'd finished, giving him a high five.

"Yeah, I'm pretty fricking awesome!" he laughed back, but damn, it felt good to hear him say that. Felt like he'd been saying it a lot lately.

After Gladio had collected everything he could from the corpses, they formed up again, hiked around the edge of a cliff face, and stopped dead.

"Well fuck, this is gonna be fun," Gladio said.

"Indeed," Iggy agreed.

The climb wasn't quite as steep as the one they'd just had to do, but the ribbons of lava and the waves of heat radiating off the rocks in shimmering mirages would definitely make things a pain in the ass.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked, looking over at Laura, who was breathing in through her mouth, deep and shaking.

"Yeah, come on," she said through gritted teeth, glaring up at the path ahead, and they took the first steps up the rippling terraced staircase.

It only took about ten strides up the incline before Prompto began to feel it; the air was so thick with the heat that it was uncomfortable to draw in breath, but the effort it took to keep moving up the stairs meant that he needed to breathe harder from the exercise. It felt like he was slowly suffocating. Drenched in sweat and clothes sticking to his skin, he convinced himself with every step that it wasn't much farther, and his focused narrowed to a point as he concentrated on the next step up, the next breath, and the message he kept repeating in his head.

 _Almost there. Not much farther._

The worst parts were when they had to stop to fight off a stray wyvern or spiracorn. Prompto could barely move as it was in the heat, and he was glad all he had to do was stand there and shoot. How the others managed to handle all the movement necessary for sword work was beyond him. He didn't miss the way Laura seemed to collapse against a cliff wall every time they stopped so she could draw in deep, wheezing breaths. Everyone's hair was weighed down with sweat, even Laura's, and Prompto noticed he wasn't the only one with splotchy red burns on his arms. Iggy and Laura were the only ones without them, since they'd kept their jackets on, but they had to be dying in this heat.

They had only made it a few steps past the last dead spiracorn when the moment Prompto had been waiting for finally happened, and Laura collapsed hard on a lava-free patch of stone, heaving and convulsing as her lips grew bluer right in front of his eyes. He fell to his knees in front of her, careful not to reach out for her despite how badly he wanted to. Looking up for help, he saw the others had gotten too far ahead to notice Laura's fall.

"What can I do?!"

"Go," she moaned. "Take the photo, Prom. Hurry."

"Right. Got it."

He didn't understand how taking the photo would help her, but if that's what she told him to do, he would do it as fast as he could. He sprinted up the steps, his own breath starting to come in heavy gasps as he grew dizzier with the heat and lack of oxygen.

Swerving around the others, he looked up and saw the cave, surrounded by Ifrit's glowing horns, just up ahead. Thank Six, not much farther.

"Hey!" Gladio called after him. "Where's Laura?"

But Prompto didn't have time to stop and have a conversation; he'd been given a mission. Skidding to a halt in front of the cave, he turned his camera on with shaking fingers and took the lens cap off. He clicked furiously, taking about twenty shots of the damn thing just in case his shaking hands couldn't get a good one on the first few tries before sprinting back down to Noct, Gladio, and Iggy, who were already making their way back down the steps towards Laura.

She was worse when Prompto reached her again—propped up against a rock wall, gasping frantically as her whole face was beginning to turn waxy and blue.

"She's hypoxic," Gladio said, reaching for her. "She's not getting enough air."

Iggy crouched down in front of her. "What is it? What can we do?" he asked urgently.

"Get. Me off. These stairs."

Without another word, Iggy scooped her off the ground into his arms, jostling her a little when she cried out in pain at his touch.

"Hurry," she whimpered.

Iggy gave them all a brief look of wide-eyed resolve before turning and bounding down the uneven steps as fast as he could with her additional weight.

"Did she say what was wrong with her?" Noct asked him as they followed behind as fast as they could.

"Not really," Prompto said. "She just said it hurt to breathe and touch us, like when she first came here. Looks worse to me."

When they'd caught up with Iggy and Laura, far enough from the lava staircase to not feel the heat coming off it, she was still blue-lipped, pale, and gasping for air, but she looked marginally better. Iggy had taken off his jacket and folded it to place under her head as a makeshift pillow as she lay on her side, trembling all over as she tried to catch her breath.

"Can you stand for me to carry you again? We need to get you somewhere to recover as soon as possible," Ignis was saying as Prompto, Noct, and Gladio sat down cross-legged next to her.

"No. We must get to the tomb," she said. "It's far enough from the cave. I should be all right. And we need to minimize our time here. The Starscourge . . .." Everyone looked up at the plume of black smoke floating just above their heads at her words, and Prompto swallowed nervously.

"Prompto could take you down then, while we go on to the tomb," Iggy suggested, but she was already shaking her head.

"It's too steep. If I got into trouble, Prompto couldn't help me alone. We have to go together."

"Tell me, please," he pleaded before clenching his teeth in frustration. "What is it that's affecting you so?"

"It's Eos," she breathed. "Ifrit and Eos are both buried here."

"Eos isn't a person," Prompto said, leaning down to catch her half-lidded gaze with his.

"She is your star, Goddess of the Dawn, just like the Greek one. Infected with the scourge. Body dead and mind half-mad with grief and pain."

"I don't understand what you're saying—Greek. Please, just tell me what I can do." Iggy said.

Laura raised her eyes to a spot just above Prompto's head and lifted a trembling hand to point to a rocky peak that reached straight up into the sky, high above them.

"The wing, Ignis. Look at the wing."

Prompto turned to look at the rock she'd been pointing at. Okay, to him it looked like it could be a wing, but he didn't see how that meant it was some goddess named after their world. Iggy seemed to realize something though, because as Prompto turned back to look at them, his eyes went wide.

"I've seen that before. The painting outside the throne room."

"Yes," she nodded, "She was real."

"Someone wanna fill us in here?" Noct said impatiently.

Iggy glared up at the wing. "The painting outside the throne room—the one of the prophecy, it depicts an angelic figure reaching out to bless the King of Light and his companions as Lucii, gods, and daemons look on. I always thought it was merely a representation of the Oracle, but if her physical body is there . . .."

"Then that's really Eos," Gladio finished.

"Source of light. Source of life. Source of time itself. Goddess of the Dawn, Life, and Time. I can feel the loosed energy from the cave. Lost. Death. Blight. Pain," Laura grimaced and shook her head as if to clear it. "I need to get farther away from here."

Noct summoned the map and unfolded it, searching. "It says there's a haven just here," he said, pointing. "Let's head there and rest for a little bit before heading to the tomb."

Laura sat up, her hand on her head while Iggy's hands hovered over her, hesitant to touch.

"Can you walk?" Ignis asked.

She nodded. "I think so."

Prompto had recovered enough from the lava steps that he could focus his full attention on her as they walked, but they were all watching her closely as they made their way to where the map said the haven would be. She seemed to get stronger the farther they got from the cave, her breath coming easier and her face looking less waxy.

But when they reached the cliff face they were supposed to climb to reach the site, they all stopped, craning their necks to see just how high it went up and how difficult the climb looked. There was no doubt about it. She was gonna fall. Prompto turned back to look at her in dread, only to see the rest of them giving her the same look.

"I really do love you all," she said, chuckling weakly. "If it makes you feel any better, you can use that cord to tie me to Gladio so he can catch me if I fall."

"Sounds kinky, let's do it," Gladio said as he summoned the cord. "Get over here, Princess"

Working together as Gladio carefully tied the necessary knots as best he could without touching her, they created a makeshift two-part harness with a length of the cord stretching between them. Prompto had to put her out of his mind as he climbed, since Iggy insisted he be the one to follow underneath her, and Prompto couldn't do anything from his spot underneath Noct. But they didn't need to worry, as everyone made it to the top without any difficulties, and the haven was only a few steps away.

They all decided it would be a bad idea to stay overnight, even if they were exhausted, so they set up the chairs to get some chow before setting out again. It turned out all that cooking Iggy and Laura did back in Caem was for a reason, because all Iggy had to do was summon some empty bowls as Laura summoned a full container of hot robust bean soup. The only weird thing was the deafening shriek that accompanied her usual flash of silver light as the container appeared in her hands.

"Oooh," she said, wincing. "That hasn't happened in a while."

"I thought that stopped," Prompto said as she handed the container to Iggy, who took the bowl silently and began to dish out individual portions.

"Eos," she said. "I think the Crystal must have come from here, from her body. The pain from the Crystal is the same I feel here, the same I feel when I touch you. I don't think she can bear my energy signature, and she shrieks in agony whenever I use magic.

"The pain never completely ceased for me. Any time I use the Crystal's magic, I still feel it. Even Noct still burns me now and then."

"Yeah, me too, sometimes," Noct said with a nod.

"Wow, I had no idea," Prompto said. "I thought you were all better."

Prompto looked down at his soup when Iggy handed him the bowl, and he ate in silence, dreading the hike that still lay ahead of them.


	40. Chapter 40

Full and sleepy, it was even harder to pack up his chair and head out again, but the silence and the tense atmosphere was a steady reminder that they needed to get the hell out of that place as soon as they could, no matter how much Prompto wanted to set up the tent and call it a day. As they set out, the four of them stayed close to Laura rather than taking up a defensive formation, despite her protests.

"Honestly, I'll be fine," she said, but her face was still pale, and her feet dragged with every step. "It's not worth all of us walking around in a huddle so a single wyvern can swoop in and take us all out at once. Spread out."

"You're underestimating us if you think a wyvern could take us all, bunched up or not," Gladio said.

It seemed like the second they stepped off the haven, the path narrowed again—another ledge, another drop-off. At least the ground was rock, even if it was jagged—better than the sand. But Prompto still stumbled a bit like a drunk chocobo as the edges of his boots caught on the lips of the uneven stone in the dark.

"Watch your step, kids," Gladio said when Prompto had tripped and caught himself for the third time in like, an hour.

He chuckled weakly. "Workin' on it!"

"Just take it easy. We gotta keep it slow for Laura anyway. Don't wanna see you go over, too," Gladio said, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

"Aww, thanks, big guy," he replied, elbowing him in the arm.

Iggy hadn't been the only one to change on this trip of theirs. Gladio had always seemed a little on the severe side to Prompto, but it had gotten worse after the confrontation with Ravus and to the point where he'd been downright unsociable after Vaullerey. But then he left—just took off with barely any warning and no explanation. He'd told them all when they'd met up in Lestallum about his duel with the Blademaster, but it didn't really explain why he'd left in the first place and why he seemed so calm now. He'd been more easygoing with both Noct and Prompto since he'd gotten back—even offered to teach Prompto more bodyweight exercises so he could stay in shape on the road. And now this—hearing him talk like he really cared made Gladio feel more like a really big, scary brother, good to have on his side.

"I don't like the looks of that big space below us," Prompto said, biting his lip as he chanced a glance over the side to eye the large amphitheatre space barely visible in the dim moonlight. From his experience, large spaces were home for large, ferocious animals that were usually more than happy to try and eat their group, even if they didn't want to do anything more than pass through undisturbed.

"Yeah, looks like we're gonna have to see it up close and personal anyway," Noct grumbled as he stopped, and Prompto could just make out in front of him that he'd stopped because they'd reached the end of the path.

Laura stepped up to the edge of the drop-off and looked over. "Anyone feel like leaping into a giant nest full of eggs?"

She'd been quiet, but holding up okay, since they'd left the haven, and Prompto could hear a spark of her usual cheer in her voice as she spoke, even if her face still looked pale in the glow of their travel lights. He noticed that she was careful to keep a bubble of personal space around her as she walked, though—taking extra care not to even brush against any of the rest of them.

"I'm down if you are," Gladio said, stepping up to the ledge and leaping down into the soft, dry grasses of the nest below. She and Iggy leapt off as soon as Gladio had rolled out of the way, and he and Noct followed right behind.

He rolled out of the nest and stood to find Iggy staring at the eggs large enough to comfortably fit two of them, his head tilted and a finger pressed to his lips in thought.

"This appears to be a zu's nest, I believe," he said.

"No way, Specs. I know that look on your face," Noct said accusingly.

Prompto looked back and forth between Noct and Iggy. "What is it?"

"I was merely curious to know how differently a zu's egg would taste from a birdbeast egg, but it's no matter. The creature is rare enough as it is, and there are only three eggs here," Iggy said.

"Then go ahead and take one!" Prompto exclaimed as he pointed to the closest egg. "I'd rather not have more of those things flying around, thanks!" Even if it did mean they'd be eating nothing but scrambled zu egg for the next two weeks, it would've been totally worth it.

"Your egging me on is hardly justification for satisfying my curiosity, I'm afraid," he said, turning away from the nest with a sigh. "And by refraining now, I hatch my plan to lower the market price of zu tender in the future."

Sliding down two more steep drop-offs found them on the floor of the wide-open arena Prompto had been dreading all night, and he kept his eyes locked on the sky, the tips of his fingers twitching to summon every weapon he could use before the zu could even land.

"Hey, Ig," he asked as they sneaked around the edge of the cliff wall, "Just . . . you know, out of curiosity, what's the best way to fight a zu?"

Iggy spread his fingers wide over his glasses, pushing them up on his face. "In your case, I would use the auto crossbow that you and Cid upgraded."

"Which we won't have to worry about if we keep quiet," Gladio said in a low voice as they drew closer to the arch that would lead them out of the arena. Eager to leave the area behind and not test the bad luck they'd had so far this evening, they picked up the pace, racing for the arch and only stopping to catch their breath once they'd reached the cliffside path that was supposed to lead to the tomb.

As they rested, Iggy stepped up to Laura, gazing down at her with a serious expression as she panted. "You're not recovered yet, are you?" he asked quietly.

"It's bearable," she said. "It was just the running."

They locked eyes for a moment. "I miss . . .," Iggy began, but his eyes slid over to Prompto, and he stopped and turned away.

Laura sighed and pushed off the cliff wall as she followed after him. "The sun will be rising soon. Don't forget to look at the sky this morning."

"Indeed," he said as he caught up to Noct.

Prompto kept checking the view over the precipice as they walked, and from what he could tell, it was gonna be spectacular once the sun rose—maybe one of his best landscape shots ever. He wondered if Vyv would be interested in publishing some of his other work. If he put together a portfolio or something, the photo he'd get this morning would definitely be going in there. Based on the color of the sky, the sun looked like it was about to rise any minute, but he could still see the shadows of the mountains stretching as far as the eye could see.

"We got company!" Gladio called out in front of him, breaking the serene moment Prompto had been having.

"Daggers, polearms, and ice, everyone," Iggy announced as he summoned his polearm and leapt into the air, spinning the weapon in his hand before driving it up into the body of one of the four killer wasps blocking their path. "Be sure to take them down as quickly as you can, else they can become a bit waspish."

"You no longer have any right to comment on the timing of my sense of humor, Ig," Gladio said with a barking laugh.

Prompto summoned his pistol as he looked back to Laura. "Just sit down for a sec. We totally got this!"

He didn't look to see if she complied as he rushed forward to help, taking a quick shot at Gladio's wasp before concentrating his fire on the last one no one had claimed. The damn things were fast, and he had to keep scurrying farther and farther up the path, swerving through the slashing weapons and diving stingers, as his wasp flew after him. A few more shots and _damn_ , he'd finally grounded the thing. Summoning another pistol, he placed both barrels right up against its head and alternated shots until it stopped moving.

He reloaded before he turned around, casting his eyes back to the battle, which had moved up the trail along with him, to see who needed the most help. Iggy seemed to be holding his own okay, and Noct was warp-striking too much for him to be of any assistance, so he took aim at Gladio's wasp and got a couple of shots in. Gladio paused, giving him a nod of thanks before leaping up to arc his sword into the wasp's belly.

Prompto saw a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Noct stumble as Iggy pushed him out of the way, but the jarring movement made it clear that the wasp that moved along with the shove was attached to Noct's body, its stinger dug deep into his arm. Iggy drove the blade of his polearm into the struggling wasp's body, attempting to wrench the poison-tipped stinger out of the muscle.

"Noct!" Prompto cried out, running in close to get a few point-blank shots to help Ignis out.

With a violent yank, Noct freed himself from the stinger, and before Prompto could summon a potion for him, he warped out of the fray near Laura. That worked for him; Prompto could help Iggy with Noct's wasp while he was safe enough to handle getting his own potion. The wasp dove for Iggy as he spun to the right, reaching out to the left with his polearm to force the blade into the tough exoskeleton of its head, while Prompto alternated shots left and right into its abdomen.

Over the sound of the bug's last buzzes, he could hear the shrieking of Laura's magic, and Iggy whipped around in that direction while Prompto checked to make sure the wasp was really dead.

"Noct!" Ignis called out as he hurtled toward where Noct and Laura had been last time Prompto had seen them.

Prompto put one last bullet through the wasp's eye before turning toward where Iggy had run off to. He was confused as to why Laura would need to use her magic right now with Noct nearby, and Noct should've had no trouble summoning his own potion.

 _Fuck._

It took him a second for his brain to even register what he was seeing: Laura collapsed at the base of the cliff wall—again—her head tilted back, eyes closed, and teeth clenched in agony. The cause for it was easy to figure out this time, since Noct was standing over her, face twisted in rage, his eyes having taken on a sort of red haze. His fist spasmed for a moment around the hilt of his sword, which was buried as far as it could go into Laura's left shoulder—gods, so close to where her heart should be if she was human. Was one of her hearts there? Prompto didn't know, but either way, it wasn't good.

Noct tore the blade from her flesh with a sickening crack and squelch before drawing back and raising it again, poising to strike.

"Noct, don't!" she yelled, holding up a falchion with her uninjured arm to block the blow, and Prompto started sprinting toward her, swerving out of Gladio's way as he finished off his wasp and trying to come up with _something_ he could do when he reached them. There was no way Laura could defend herself as weak as she was already, and there was no way Prompto was gonna make it there in time before Noct stabbed her again. For a fleeting moment, he thought about shooting Noct in the arm—just grazing him enough to distract him—but no way could he do that. Could he?

The blade seemed to descend toward her heart in slow motion as he ran, shouting Noct's name as loudly as he could. Oh, Six, he was really gonna kill her this time.

Just when Prompto was sure Noct was gonna bury his blade directly into her heart, a whirl of spinning silver flashed between them, catching Noct's sword and wrenching it to the side before disappearing in a shower of phosphorescent dismissing petals. Noct's eyes followed the path of the dagger in confusion for a moment before turning back to Laura, but thank Six, Iggy had stepped between them.

Iggy's eyes were blazing green fire as he summoned a lance, spinning it in a hand before taking a wide defensive stance over Laura's outstretched legs, holding the polearm like a training staff.

"Get out of the way!" Noct screamed, attempting to duck and aim a blow at Laura between Iggy's legs, but Iggy twisted the lance across his body, catching Noct's sword with the handle.

"Prompto!" Iggy bellowed, and Prompto realized he had frozen on the spot, held captive by sheer disbelief for what was happening in front of him. Iggy paused for a moment to block two more of Noct's thrusts before saying, "For gods' sakes, stop standing there and crack a remedy or smelling salts on him. He's confused!"

Iggy twisted to the side and angled his lance to block another blow from a roaring Noct, but Noct summoned a dagger with the other hand as his sword made contact, swiping it across Ignis's middle and ripping his shirt open.

"Uh, remedy, right," he said shakily as he heard Gladio's pounding footsteps coming up behind him.

Summoning what he needed, he lunged for Noct's back and smacked the flask against the back of his neck . . . probably harder than he should've done. He winced in sympathy as Noct went limp, and Prompto reached out to catch him under his armpits as he gasped and dropped his sword to the ground with a resounding clang.

"What the . . .," Noct began, lurching to his feet out of Prompto's hold and shaking his head.

Iggy didn't move, his polearm still held across him at the ready as he glared down at Noct. His eyes shifted to Gladio briefly as Gladio threw himself down by Laura's body behind him, probably assessing whether Gladio was a threat to Laura as well. As soon as he'd heard Gladio's exclamation of "fuck," his eyes shot back to Noct—his expression carved from stone and his chest heaving—waiting to see if Noct would strike again.

"Specs?" Noct asked in a small voice, and Prompto moved around to see Noct's eyes wide with horror at the blood dripping from the tear in Iggy's shirt onto his pants and boots.

In a soft voice, Iggy asked, "Are you back with us?"

"Did I do that? You're hurt."

Iggy relaxed, the glare melting from his face and his shoulders drooping as he dismissed his polearm.

"A touch of confusion," he said, "It's common when fighting these creatures. I'm afraid the fault was mine for not informing you."

Clenching his jaw and grimacing in pain, he turned and kneeled to check on Laura, and Prompto patted Noct's back before rushing to Laura's other side.

"Oh, fuck," Noct said as he leaned over them. "You guys, I'm so sorry." He summoned a potion and cracked it over Iggy's back.

"Thank you, Highness," he said quietly, but he only had eyes for Laura.

Noct had stabbed her in the lower left shoulder and wrenched the blade down as he removed it, leaving a clean two-inch slit in the fabric of her uniform with another inch of shredded fabric and skin below it. White, iridescent fluid leaked steadily from the wound, making the black fabric of her suit look almost like fuel on dark water.

"This is deep enough that we may have to chance a potion," Ignis said. "This could kill you if we don't get the bleeding stopped."

"No," she breathed. "Not this close to Eos. The energy incompatibility would do more harm than good." She looked up at Noct. "You can see the entrance from here, yeah? Take Gladio and Ignis and go get the weapon. Prompto will look after me."

"Laura, I—" Noct began.

"It's all right. Really. Hurry back," she said, then gave Ignis a weak smile of reassurance.

Iggy heaved a sigh and slowly rose to his feet, pausing in front of Prompto for a moment, holding his gaze gravely, and saying, "Take care of her, Prompto."

Prompto swallowed and nodded, feeling the weight of Iggy's trust settling heavy on his shoulders.

Once they'd left, he kneeled down again next to Laura. "What can I do?" he asked.

She pointed to his upper arm. "Would you mind if I ruined your handkerchief?"

"Totally! Here," he said, untying the handkerchief from his arm and holding it out to her, but she didn't take it.

"I'm gonna need your help," she said softly, her eyes growing heavy.

"Please don't pass out on me," he pleaded. "Iggy would kill me if something happened to you on my watch."

She hummed noncommittally before saying, "I'm gonna need you to tie that around my shoulder, tight as you can."

Prompto nodded. This was really gonna suck. The idea of hurting her made him feel kinda queasy, but it was either this or letting her bleed out.

When she leaned forward, he wrapped the cloth around the back of her shoulder, careful to touch her as little as possible as he quickly slipped it under her arm. He crossed the two ends together and looped under, pulling the knot close to her shoulder and angling it so the cloth would cover the wound.

"You ready?" he warned.

"Yep," she said in what he assumed was an attempt at cheer.

As quickly as he could, he pulled the knot hard and tight, and she sucked in a deep, whistling breath but otherwise didn't make a sound.

"Okay, hard part's done. Just gotta make the second knot," he said as he looped the fabric over and tied again. Then, to distract her, he said, "I've done this a coupla times, you know, patching up wounds with handkerchiefs. They come in handy."

"I remember the dog we found by the side of the road," she said. "You were so sweet to him."

"The other time was a dog too—one of Lady Lunafreya's dogs, actually."

"Umbra?"

"No, she's got another one. Named her Chibi when I took care of her, but her name's Pryna."

He was running out of things to say, and as her eyelids drooped, he realized he needed to ask her questions instead, keep her talking. There was no way he was gonna let her be unconscious when the others got back.

"So, you mentioned once that our world exists in different universes, right?" When she nodded, he asked, "You ever been to our world in another universe?" She only shook her head in response. Six, he needed to think of _something_ that would get her talking. "What about the humans where you're from? What's different about them from us?"

"No magic for one thing," she began, and he sighed in relief. "You all have the most incredible hearts—so very brave and good. It's not like there aren't good people on Earth; there just aren't as many as there seem to be here."

She paused for a moment, thinking, before saying, "And then there's your hair."

Prompto ran his fingers through his hair, which was probably a disaster after the lava steps. Iggy's and Noct's certainly was. "What about our hair?"

She chuckled a little. "Everyone has what would be a really, really expensive haircut, had you been on Earth—like the equivalent to thousands of gil. I thought for sure when I got here hairdressers were the most revered people on this planet, but no. Your hair just has better hold, I guess. Should take a hell of a lot longer than it does for you guys to style it every morning. And do you know how difficult it's been for me keeping my hair together as often as you guys ride around with the top down? Hard to keep those couture haircuts of yours looking good in the normal world, yah know. Maintenance is a nightmare for most people."

"Go on, keep talking to me," he encouraged.

"Oooh, are you gonna regret saying that," she said, tilting her head back against the cliff and giggling. "I learned talking from the very best, and my mind's going out the window along with the baby and the bath water. Did you know there's a planet that has an entire channel dedicated to defenestration? Ended up being the most popular channel in three galaxies—saved the television industry during the anti—TV movement . . . until holovid came out of course. And even then, you had hipsters running around thirty years later claiming that two-dimensional images were the only way to get the authentic experience."

When she stopped again, her eyes growing heavier, he pointed at her necklace, which had begun to shimmer with a kind of silver light as she'd talked. "What's that all about?"

"He's upset. So many years. Wars. Revolutions. Disease. Rescue missions. It could all come down to a sword. Kinda insultin' if you think about it."

She gasped, her eyes shooting to his for the first time since this nightmare began. "Tell Ignis he must take Eilendil. My full name will release the clasp—like, all of it, even the part I didn't tell you."

"Um . . . what?"

Her head flopped back to the wall of the cliff again, and the thunking sound of her skull against the rock made him wince.

"He knows. Tell Noct it wasn't his fault," she said quietly.

Oh, fuck. She was saying goodbye. She thought she was dying, and she was saying goodbye. No, no, no, no. He jumped to his feet, looking to see if they were coming back yet, but he couldn't see anyone. Where the fuck were they? He knelt back down at Laura's side again, his hands hovering over her, but Six, he couldn't touch her, couldn't comfort her. He was terrified and useless, and Iggy was gonna kill him.

"Don't be frightened," she mumbled. "I still got plenty left in me. Just got a lot goin' on in m'brain right now; not sure how long this filter's gonna last. Probably gonna start talkin' nonsense soon."

"You mean you haven't already?" he asked with a terrified laugh.

"I love you, Prom. Don' worry. If I catch fire and become a different person, I'll still love you all. 'e still loved me when it 'appened ta 'im."

He had no idea what she was talking about, so he guessed the nonsense had started up already. Still, at least she was talking.

"Who? Iggy?" he asked.

"No. 'e died cause o' me, you know. They all die cause o' me in the end. Will it be my fault when 'e dies, too? Fuck no. The Fire will burn its full potential. DO YOU HEAR ME, EOS?"

She shouted her last words without warning, and he almost fell over on his back at the shock of the sudden volume change. Okay, he changed his mind. Maybe he didn't want her talking. She was gonna hurt herself if she screamed any more like that.

But she seemed to have gone quiet on her own.

"S'beautiful," she murmured dreamily after a minute or so, the rising sun reflecting in her eyes as she looked behind him, and he turned to follow her gaze. Now that he could see it better, he understood what had captured her attention.

Gods it _was_ beautiful: the vertebrae of rocky mountains, verdant fields, and high stone arches catching the light from the rising sun and shining with a pink and gold hue. The river twisting through the mountains was transformed into a ribbon of fire; the wing of the Disc shined like an ocean wave crashing against rock, frozen in the sun; and the horizon seemed to wear the rising gold sun like a crown, sending out streaks of buttery light to reflect off the pink and purple clouds.

"Yeah, it really is," he said. "It's too bad it sucked so much getting' up here."

"Take a picture for me?" she asked, her eyes large and pleading, and he couldn't say no to that face.

Getting to his feet and summoning his camera, he took a few snapshots, glancing down to check on her between every click of the button, before doing a final panorama shot. He was about to kneel back down at her side when he saw Iggy sprinting toward them as fast as his long legs would carry him, with Noct and Gladio doing their best to keep up.

Without pausing to speak, he bounded to a halt and scooped Laura up in his arms, ignoring her gasp of pain at his touch.

Prompto turned and followed the pair out of that beautiful hellhole.

* * *

By the time they'd reached the car, she was delirious—her voice deep and terrifying—but she'd been right. Every word out of her mouth was either about Eos or complete nonsense—that is, when she wasn't screaming. Prompto had been holding back the tears growing in the corners of his eyes as she got progressively worse. And Iggy—his face was completely frozen in hard, wild-eyed determination as she thrashed in his arms, yelling out her crazy stuff.

"The Goddess of the Dawn, mother of the Six, mother of all of mankind. Blighted, soiled star. Her womb is ripped away and she cries out, lamenting for her love. She burns me. Her children burn me." Her eyes widened as she cried out, "They're burning me! No, Eilendil; she doesn't understand!"

She stopped ranting for a second and looked toward the mountain, her eyes rolling.

"I am the Anathema— a counterpart that should not exist on the same plane. I must stay to protect them. I swore an oath: my life, whatever is necessary. My crime is the same as yours. Forgive me. Please, let me stay. The Fire is precious to me. Even now he incinerates me, but I would not be parted from the flame."

At her words, Iggy's nostrils flared, his jaw clenched, and his eyes went wide. He set her down on her feet next to the back door of the car, holding her up by an arm, and examined her back.

" _Bloody_ _hell_ ," he spat.

"What is it?" Prompto asked.

"Oh, fuck," Gladio exclaimed. "Let's just get her in the car and get her the fuck away from here."

Prompto's eyes flickered to Noct, who was hurling himself into the driver's seat and slamming the door, before he peered around Gladio to see what they were reacting so dramatically to.

Across Laura's shoulders and upper thighs were two bands of charred uniform, which had partially burned away to reveal red, raw, blistered skin. As he circled around, he thought he saw what looked like the same burns in the shapes of handprints on her thigh and side.

"Is that what I think it is?" Prompto asked, kinda terrified that it was, but it was impossible, wasn't it? She was wearing clothes, and Iggy was wearing gloves.

"Front passenger door," Iggy growled through his teeth, and Gladio leapt forward to open it before Iggy practically tossed her in the Regalia, reclining the seat back as far as it would go and strapping her in before squeezing himself in the back seat behind her.

Once they had shut the doors, she calmed down a little, still looking out the window toward the mountain. She sighed deeply before saying "Thank you. I'm sorry."

"Highness, please hurry. We need to get her away from here now," Ignis said tensely.

"Oh, I'm on it, Igs," Noct growled, flinging the car in a U-turn and flooring it.

"Easy there," Gladio said, reaching forward to place a gentle hand on Noct's shoulder. "You're not gonna save her if you crash us all into a ditch."

"I just need to get us back to Verinas as fast as possible. Then everything's gonna be all right," he ground out.

"No," Ignis said, his voice stern. "Her symptoms started there. We have to go farther out."

"Fuck," Noct swore. "How far we talkin'?"

"There's a haven just beyond. Lambath, I believe it's called."

Prompto hadn't paid much attention to Noct since he'd come back from the tomb, but looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror, he looked like a man possessed. His eyes were crazed and bloodshot; his hands gripping the steering wheel with all his strength, turning his knuckles white; and his teeth bared in determination. Prompto felt bad for him. He couldn't imagine how he'd feel if he'd been the one responsible for maybe killing a friend and Iggy's girlfriend.

Iggy leaned over the back of the seat, which was practically in his lap, studying Laura's face. She slowly opened her eyes to him, bringing her good hand up over her head to touch his face with a soft, sweet smile. Iggy flinched and tried to pull back, but she whispered, "No. S'alright now."

"Laura," he breathed.

She drew in a long deep breath and let it out before speaking again. "S'weird, you kinda smell like your name, 'ave I told ya? S'like smoked sweet sage. Makes me kinda want sweet potatoes. You know, you really are lovelier than the stars . . .."

Then her hand dropped from his face as she closed her eyes.

It took them almost a half an hour and ten years off their lives to arrive at the haven Iggy had indicated. The second Noct had slammed the brakes on the car, Iggy had the door open, squeezing himself out from underneath Laura's seat and flinging himself to the passenger door.

He dragged Laura's unconscious body onto the pavement in the middle of the road, summoned a dagger, and cut Prompto's handkerchief from her arm. Noct had come up from behind him while he worked, and he thrust a hi-potion over Iggy's shoulder. Iggy seized it and cracked it over the wound while Prompto and Gladio stood over the three of them, watching.

Laura's eyes shot open wide as she inhaled sharply and arched her back off the ground in agony. Prompto couldn't help but wince and cover his ears at the sound of her tortured scream that echoed and bounced off the boulders back to them. She convulsed for a few seconds before finally relaxing—her eyes heavy-lidded, but at least she was awake.

"Hey, Princess," Gladio said over Iggy's shoulder. "You still kickin'?"

"Heh, ready to kick your ass," she mumbled. "Fucking potions."

Her gaze shifted to Iggy, who tilted his head at her, his eyes seeming to plead for something—at least, that's what it looked like to Prompto. After a moment, he closed his eyes, let out a long breath, and nodded.

Good. He must've decided she was gonna be all right.

"I'm gonna start settin' up the tent," Gladio said, pointing a thumb in the direction of the haven, and Prompto and Noct followed, giving them as much privacy as they could get in the middle of the road.

By the time they'd finished setting up everything but the kitchen area, which Iggy would never let them touch, Prompto had spotted Iggy carrying Laura up to the haven. Figuring Laura would be cold after losing all that blood, Gladio had built a roaring fire, and Prompto had set up her sleeping bag across from the chairs. He'd just summoned her favorite blanket from the armiger and set it next to the bag when Iggy stepped onto the haven.

Noct jumped from his chair, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his face drawn tight. As Ignis passed him with Laura in his arms, he paused for a moment, looking at Noct with a blank expression.

"Highness?"

Noct seemed to come to himself, moving out of the way and gesturing to the pallet.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Go ahead."

Iggy bowed his head a little before laying Laura down, covering her with the blanket, and sitting down cross-legged at her side. He went still, his head bowed and his eyes half-closed in relief and exhaustion. Laura's face wore a similar expression as she turned her head to stare at the fire.

And this was what confused Prompto so much about them. Laura was always so affectionate, even with him, and they were just friends. And Iggy must've been some kind of friendly, since they 'sparred' every freaking morning. He would've thought after a near-death experience, they'd be all over each other; Prompto definitely would've been if it'd been his girlfriend that had almost died today.

Noct shuffled slowly up to them, looking at his toes.

"Iggy . . . Laura," he began, and they both looked up at him. "I don't even know how to say this." He took a deep breath and started speaking on a rush, "I knew I needed to get outta there to take the potion, but I swear I didn't know I was confused, too, or I never would have warped so close to you, Laura. Shit, I could've killed you both. Iggy, you should've ripped me to shreds. In fact, I wish you had. I'm so sorry you guys."

"It's quite all right, Noct," Ignis said, his expression serious but his eyes kind. "As I said, the fault was mine for not notifying the group before we began the battle."

"Laura, I—" Noct began again, but he didn't seem to know what to say.

"Noct, I promise. It's all right. Eos was using her connection to you all to try and kill me, and she got you at a vulnerable time. It really wasn't your fault." Propping herself up on her right arm, she sat up and held a hand out to Noct. "Come here."

Noct kneeled down and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "I'm so, so sorry," he said over her shoulder.

Prompto watched her closely as Noct hugged her. She'd winced a little as Noct had squeezed her, and even now, she was trying to hold her left shoulder away from the embrace.

"Laura, are you still hurt? Do you need another potion?" Prompto asked.

Noct jerked out of her one-armed hug and pulled back the slit in her bloody top to reveal the wound, which had stopped bleeding, as far as Prompto could tell, but it still looked angry and moist, like raw meat.

"Oh my gods," Noct said, summoning another hi-potion, but Laura put a hand on his arm.

"It won't do any good. My body doesn't accept your energy as efficiently, remember? Don't worry; it'll be completely gone in a few days."

Iggy gently cleared his throat, and Laura looked over her shoulder before leaning back so he could look at the gash himself.

"This will require dressing, and you need to clean both it and yourself beforehand," he said sternly.

"In a minute," she replied before turning to Prompto and Gladio. "Hey, Prom, Princess, scoot those chairs over here so Prom can show us the photos he took today."

"Err . . . you really wanna do that?" Prompto asked as he moved his chair closer to where she, Noct, and Iggy sat on her blanket. He couldn't think why she'd want to look back and remember that time she almost died . . . a few hours ago.

"Well . . . my view of everything wasn't quite as good as I would've liked."

Leaning over in his seat so everyone had a view of the little screen, he began with the most recent photos, starting with the view from the Tomb of the Fierce and moving backward. When he clicked to the photos of the cave, she stopped him.

"That's where the Crystal came from," she said, touching the edge of the screen. "The shape is even the same. The Crystal is the womb of Eos."

"You kept saying that on the way to the Regalia. How do you know it's the womb and not something else? Like the heart . . . or the brain?" Ignis asked.

"Because what is the source of life, to a human? It's not the heart or the brain. It's the womb. I've seen the Crystal in Regis's mind. It even looks like the upside-down cross-section of a uterus."

"And you mentioned something about her being the mother of the Six," Prompto pointed out.

Laura nodded. "I've suspected she existed for a while now but wasn't completely certain until today. Her golden power, the one that's so similar to my time magic, runs through everything—the Six, you all, the world."

"So you mean to say all this time you've been saying 'power of Eos,' you meant literally the power of a goddess named Eos? I'd thought you meant our world," Iggy said.

"Think I woulda remembered learning about Eos as a goddess in school," Gladio said. "Why haven't any of us, including Mr. Smartass over here, ever heard of her?"

"Because the victors are the ones responsible for writing history, and they usually have things to be ashamed of. She's been erased from history for some reason, but sloppily. She still appears in many of your pieces of art all around Insomnia," Laura said. "For frack's sake, there's even a statue of her in your main square."

"So, just to be sure I understand everything, Ifrit and Eos were somehow infected with Starscourge, likely around the time of the War of the Astrals, and their bodies lie in Ravatogh together. The Crystal was taken from her body at some point and given to Lucis to protect as a source of light against the scourge and daemon hordes. Correct?" Ignis asked.

"That sums it up, yeah. There's something ancient and dark going on here, and I think it has something to do with what we're doing. Everything is too connected for it to be a coincidence. We just need to connect the threads."

When they'd finished flipping through the photos, Iggy stood up and leaned over her, setting a careful hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right to get cleaned up? I should like to set up the equipment for a meal before dressing your wound."

"Yes," she said with a sigh. "I promise; I'm okay."

Iggy nodded and headed to the haven's edge to set up the kitchen, and before Laura could stand up, Prompto stopped her. He'd been meaning to give her this for a while now; he'd had it printed out the first time they went to Lestallum. But then she and Iggy had gotten together in their weird way, and he wasn't sure if it would only make it weirder to give it to her. His gift was . . . kind of more of a romantic thing.

"Hang on," he said. "I . . .," he winced a little. Hopefully she wouldn't think this was cheesy or anything. "I kinda made this . . . you know. For you guys."

He leaned forward in his chair and grabbed the little book he'd put behind him when he first sat down—a photo book of ten of the best photos he'd taken of her and Iggy together, with a few shots of the five of them mixed in.

As she flipped through the pages, she stopped for a moment on the photo he'd taken of Iggy and Laura in the back seat of the Regalia, her head tucked into his side, nearly asleep. The look on Iggy's face as he gazed down at her was one of incredulous wonder. She ran her fingertips over the plastic sheeting, her lips parted slightly. When she looked up at him, her eyes were shining.

"Thank you, Prompto," she said quietly before reaching up and pulling his forehead to her lips. "And thank you for everything you did today."

"Yeah, no sweat," he said with a little laugh.

Thinking back on everything they'd done today, Prompto supposed he'd been a lot of help—all the flying monsters, watching over Laura as they walked, taking the photos, administering first-aid, keeping Laura talking . . . even giving her the photo book.

Maybe he had gotten the chance to be a hero today after all.


	41. Chapter 41

_None of you has gotten enough sleep to leave yet,_ she protested for the seventh time as he slid into the back seat next to her. Of course, he himself had protested his position in the back seat rather than the driver's, but Noct had vehemently insisted, so it seemed as though there were protestations all around for this departure.

 _If you continue to argue against this point, I shall be forced to tell them all that your proximity to Eos is still burning your already enflamed synapses, even if she's no longer attacking you outright, and then we'll most certainly be departing immediately anyway._

The very moment they had finally, blessedly, reconnected in the middle of that gods forsaken road and he realized that he wasn't going to lose her after all, he had wrapped the tendrils of his mind around hers like a vine, holding her tight to him, pouring his relief into her, and demanding an immediate explanation: why Noct had focused his confusion so intently on her; why his own hands, which had been made to do nothing but worship her, had turned against him; why she hadn't been able to breathe as the goddess declared telepathic war on her; why she had refused to fight back in her own defense.

He'd understood enough of her rant to know that their powers, their identities, were too similar to exist in the same universe, but it didn't explain why Eos had attacked her so viciously. It especially rankled that Eos had used his body against his will in an attempt to kill his own wife. Was this what the gods did? See that they had access to mortals as tools and use them for their own whims? It put Laura's strict rules on telepathic access and warfare into sharp relief.

He felt her shudder next to him, and he leaned against the door before pulling her into his side.

"You need your blanket, too, Laura?" Prompto asked.

"If you wouldn't mind," she said into Ignis's chest, not willing to let go of the comfort of his heated embrace.

As Prompto summoned her blanket and draped it over the two of them, Gladio turned around in the front seat to look at her. "How long you think it's gonna be before you can use any kinda magic again?"

Laura shrugged. "A couple of days, maybe? It's been a while since my shields were compromised and I've been fried this badly."

Noct huffed out a deep sigh, and Ignis looked over the seat to see his fingers tightening against the steering wheel.

"Noct, please," Laura pleaded. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know," he muttered.

Ignis didn't blame Noct in the slightest for his role in weakening Laura to the point of near-death, thereby undermining her ability to protect herself from the telepathic attack, as he understood all too well everything Noct was feeling. Laura had adamantly refused to allow him to see his own handprints seared into her side like a brand, insisting that she care for them herself, but it couldn't erase the image that the discovery of them had burned into his memory.

 _I think it's time you tell me what I said on the way down the mountain,_ she said. _Eilendil was a bit too preoccupied to pay attention._

All things considered, he'd rather not relive a single moment of that hellish experience, but if there was any chance that she could glean more from her ravings than he had, it was a necessary evil to recall his absolute terror—all those hours he'd spent wondering if he was going to lose one of the greatest sources of happiness in his life mere weeks after discovering her.

When he reached the part of her diatribe about the crime, she sat up suddenly.

"The crime!" she exclaimed. "I said 'my crime is the same as yours'?"

"Uh, yeah, but you were sayin' a _lot_ of things on the way down," Prompto said.

"Remember what Gentiana said? 'When the Warriors of Light seek the crime, Pitioss shall light the dark path of the shame of the Six.' I'd thought the crime was that of the Six, but it sounds like the crime was Eos's, and I've apparently committed the same one."

"Uhh, what crime do you think it was?" Prompto asked hesitantly.

Laura grimaced. "I don't know. Honestly, that could be anything, since crimes are social constructs unique to each locale. And I've committed a lot, some even legitimate: genocide, murder, war crimes, identity theft, grand theft, wearing the color blue during a period of national mourning, touching a member of the opposite sex on a Sunday, licking the Holy Sceptre of Garaloth VII . . .. Honestly it would probably take me a year just to sit here and list them all."

"G—Genocide?" Prompto asked hesitantly.

"Prompto," Ignis warned when he felt the stirrings of Laura's melancholy that she normally hid so well from even their connection. Her cognitive resources must have been too devoted on ensuring he wasn't feeling the mild burn that she and Eos couldn't help but cause one another as they fled the area, as he'd yet to feel even an inkling of it since their reconnection.

But they already knew of the loss of her planet and nearly all its sentient species at her failure, even if they didn't know the details behind it. And while Ignis was most curious to learn of them, he hardly saw the necessity for them to discuss it now—or even bring the matter up—because of Prompto's ineffective memory.

"Well, knowing it was Eos's crime doesn't help us out much," Gladio said, changing the subject for them.

"Yeah, still don't know where Pitioss is," Noct agreed. "And no one we've asked so far has heard of it."

Prompto leaned forward, energetically slapping at Noct's arm. "Ooh! Maybe it's in Jared's diary! You think?"

"It certainly wouldn't do any harm to ask Talcott the next time we're in Caem," Ignis said.

"And we'll keep askin' around in the meantime," Gladio said. "And . . . actually, I just remembered." He reached under his seat and pulled out a worn almanac pamphlet before handing it back to Ignis. "Picked this up for you when I was in Taelpar cause I know you like to collect 'em when we see 'em. Glad I did, cause it looks like it applies to what we learned back there."

As Ignis scanned over the short article, Laura said, "Is there a complete copy of this almanac somewhere? Because that would be really, really helpful."

Ignis shook his head. "I've searched every book collection in every shop we've come across and have thus far been unable to locate a complete copy."

"What does it say?" Prompto asked.

"That Bahamut was the one responsible for putting Ifrit in the Rock," Gladio said. "No mention of Eos, but it did call Ifrit a traitor."

Ignis pursed his lips in thought. "Perhaps Ifrit was deemed a traitor for not only turning on Solheim, but also for assisting Eos."

"But then why erase Eos from history?" Laura asked. "From my experience, you have to take sources like these with a grain of salt. The authors of history will always support their own agenda."

"Yes, and this author seems to have used quite a number of adjectives indeed for a passionless report," Ignis agreed. "You have my thanks for having the forethought to pick that up, Gladio. It seems we should all keep an eye out for such entries in the future."

Laura shivered again and settled back into the crook of Ignis's outstretched arm, breathing in his scent and rubbing an absent-minded hand over his diaphragm. He moved his arm from the back of the seat to around her shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to create some friction. He imagined that they'd been rather inappropriate with their affections this past day, particularly while they'd been on top of Ravatogh. However, this particular display was just as much for health purposes as it was for comfort, and not only had she curled up in the car before with Prompto, she had also done so with him. Still, the status of their relationship had changed drastically since last they'd done this, and he sincerely hoped they weren't making the others uncomfortable.

As he finished relaying her abominable oration down the mountain to the car, Ignis couldn't help but insert his own commentary. The word had simply come up too often around him, to the point where he could no longer dismiss it as coincidence, particularly after burning her so badly.

 _I'm the Fire, aren't I? The Fire that incinerates you, the Mate to the Anathema that lives or dies by your choice._

 _Ignis . . .._

 _The first spell I ever heard you utter, a kithairon made of fire, contained your name for me in our bonding vows—_ _Ithīr. Even Eilendil knew I was the Fire. Have I burned you all this time, Rose? Why else would you call me that?_

 _I swear to you, love, you've never burned me any more than Prompto or Gladio. They would have left the same marks on my skin had they been the ones to carry me down. We call you Fire because that's the 'lost meaning' of your Latin name. Ignis—fire. Scientia—knowledge._

 _That's . . .. Now I wonder how much of my own personality was pre-ordained._

 _I've always loved that about you: fire in your heart, knowledge in your mind, and that burning passion to_ _ **know**_ _._

Honestly, he was beginning to wonder how much of his _entire life_ was pre-ordained—and he didn't care for the evidence that seemed to stack in favor of the odds that his every action and every decision was either decided for him or forced upon him by fate or the gods. It seemed as though Rose had been his only decision thus far that had been entirely his—perhaps even against the will of whatever or whomever was responsible for pre-determining his destiny. Given how unkindly fate had treated him and those he cared for thus far, he had to admit that he took a sort of defiant pleasure in his sin. Heavens, what had become of his deference to divinity?

 _You're starting to see them, to see us, as flawed beings instead of gods._

 _Well . . .,_ he pretended to contemplate, _**you**_ _certainly are, anyway._

She gave him a playful mental shove, and he felt her breath blow across his neck in stuttering puffs.

 _And what of Eos? How was it left? There seemed to be an implied détente in your words at the cessation of your being actively burned,_ he said.

 _It wasn't her fault, you know. She thought I was an abomination sent to destroy what was left of her; she's a perpetually dying, wild, infected animal down there, lashing out at anything that would bring her pain. It sounds as though it was only once I stopped Eilendil from attacking back that she started listening._

 _And how is Eilendil? He has my sincerest gratitude for defending you when I couldn't, when you wouldn't._

 _About as well-off as you. He wasn't bleeding out, so he could keep his shields up and the pain to a minimum. But he's still upset._

Ignis closed his eyes, wrapping the tendrils of his mind even more tightly around hers as if to hold her there with him forever. _How close did she come?_

He could tell she wanted to lie to him, to reassure him, but Prompto had relayed her words as he'd been away doing his duty. He already knew the answer.

 _I don't know,_ she said. _Closer than I'd like._

It was closer than he would have liked, as well. There had never been a moment where he'd questioned choosing to go with Noct to the tomb over leaving her there with Prompto. He knew that her suggestion that Noct take him and Gladio was more for Noct's benefit than his own. But there had still been a stirring of fear in his heart that he would miss being there as she passed, that there could've been something he would've been able to do that Prompto wouldn't have thought of, that he should've taken her far away from that gods forsaken Rock—Royal Arm be damned. And though it would never have affected his decision, the emotion's very existence troubled him. But he knew what it felt like now—knew how to defend against the feeling. Duty must _always_ come first.

* * *

A few days spent in Old Lestallum picking up hunts while Laura rested saw her fully recovered—to the point where not even a scar remained of her ordeal in Ravatogh. He'd spent his curiously increasing free time doing everything he could think of to take care of her as she'd convalesced: changing her bandages, attempting to use his more subtle healing magic on her wounds (with little success), providing her with warming nutritious meals to promote healing, performing her morning tea ritual as they ate breakfast, and even making her favorite meal—dish and chips—much to Noct's delight. Despite her appreciating his diligent care, Ignis could tell by her increasing restlessness and irritability at his 'coddling' that it was time to move on, particularly when they had returned from an especially profitable hunt for three wild luekhorns to find that she had left the room and gone out to explore the town on her own.

 _I didn't think you would leave the motel room alone. Where are you?_ he asked when they'd returned to check out of their room.

 _The Crow's Nest. I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Tell Gladio I left him some tea leaf on the dresser._

He volunteered to make the tea, pouring himself a mug of the delicate silver needles white tea and heading back outside to sit in one of the plastic chairs and wait for her.

"Look!" she said excitedly, bouncing up to him. "I was talking to Sarah over at the Crow's Nest and found one of Oric's pieces just outside. There's a recipe for tomalley-filled dumplings that I think you might like."

"Tomalley-filled dumplings?" he asked, taking the magazine from her and examining the article. "These do seem to be right up my alley." He paused for a moment before casually remarking, "You didn't tell me you'd left. Did you stay in town?"

Even with him suppressing his emotions from their connection, she knew his true motivations for asking, and he not only saw that familiar flash of irritation in her eyes from his early days of knowing her, he also had the privilege of feeling it in his mind.

"Hey, um . . . guys?" Prompto leaned in with a nervous wave and smile, no doubt hesitant to interrupt Laura's glare. "We're all checked out."

"All right, Prom. We're coming," she said, softening her expression as she looked up at him.

 _One attack does not make me a damsel in distress. I don't require supervision,_ she said in a low voice.

 _I know,_ he relented, but only partially. _But you married a caretaker, love. Protecting you, taking care of you is what I do._

She sighed as he sat behind the wheel and started the car. _All right. A compromise? I'll try to suppress some of my nature if you try to suppress some of yours? And do try to remember that you are far more than a caretaker._

 _I shall make an attempt,_ he said, but the image of locking her in the room next time swam unbidden into his mind.

 _See that you do,_ she replied, responding with an image of her pinning him to the ground with a hand and her knees, one of his own daggers held to his throat. When he couldn't decide whether to feel aroused or threatened by the image, she said, _Both. Definitely both._

When they arrived at the Tomb of the Tall, approaching the tomb without incident, Ignis thought for a fleeting moment that this would be a simple affair as it so rarely was, but he'd allowed himself to dare to hope too soon. The heavy stone doors were left wide open, the tomb raided, and the weapon missing. According to the note left on the King's sarcophagus by Hunter HQ, the Royal Arm had likely been absconded with by daemons to Costlemark. He supposed the inconvenience could've been worse, as they were headed there regardless.

Ignis wouldn't admit it, but he was exhausted by the time they set up camp at Oathe haven just outside Costlemark Tower. He'd been refusing Laura's assistance these last few days in an attempt to conserve her resources and allow her to recover more quickly, much to her growing frustration. After their discussion, however, perhaps he would relent this evening and allow her to put him to sleep—take him on an adventure or two.

When they'd bonded, Ignis knew that he would always cherish having her as a constant companion, never having to be alone again. What he hadn't anticipated was just how _much_ he would use their connection—and not just at night, but in nearly every moment of their waking hours as well. He didn't typically consider himself a man of many words; what he said aloud was usually a helpful suggestion or a remark that escaped unsuppressed. But with their bond, it was as though their minds were one half of a lake sharing water with the other. They each noticed different things about their surroundings, each took interest in the different outlook of the other. Their daytime sharing had been a source of expression and mental stimulation that had brought him so much joy, and their nighttime adventures had been a comforting light in the dark. He'd _missed_ her terribly that day on Ravatogh, even if he could still feel her thread in his mind. And he missed her every night as he went to bed. Yes, the time for abstentions were over.

 _Thank gods,_ she said, interrupting his thoughts. _I've missed you too, you stubborn fool._

After dinner; some time spent on King's Knight with Gladio, Noct, and Prompto; balancing the books (they were doing surprisingly well, monetarily speaking); helping Laura finish the laundry; and changing into his nightclothes; she surprised him by leading him not to the tent, where the others were already asleep, but to a pallet she had made by the fire as he took his turn changing.

 _Are you still getting cold at night?_ he asked.

 _No,_ she said, gesturing toward the pallet before reaching up to kiss him sweetly on the mouth. He was about to deepen the kiss and pull her against him when she pulled away. _Uh uh, you've taken care of me for days now. I've got plans for you tonight. Lie down on your stomach, please._

He raised an eyebrow at her before complying—a reminder that whatever she was planning needed to remain appropriate for the outdoor setting and their proximity to the tent. It became apparent immediately, however, that he would be the one to have an issue maintaining decorum the moment she dug her knuckles deep into the muscles of his lower back and kneaded in tight, slow circles.

" _Ohhh,_ " he groaned into the pillow she'd no doubt placed there for just such a purpose. But as soon as he had a handle on himself, he shut his mouth with a click of the teeth, determined to keep quiet.

 _But don't forget to enjoy it too, yeah?_

 _Oh gods, yes, Rose,_ he moaned as she moved up both sides of his spine, working each tight spot until it had unlocked and relaxed beneath her hands. _I don't believe that will be any issue at all._

Her hands were so _warm_ as she moved up to his shoulders—so much so that he could feel it seeping through the fabric of his shirt and into his skin, and as he looked into her mind , noting her intense concentration on the anatomy of the muscles in his back, he realized that she'd been warming her hands deliberately for his pleasure. He hadn't been aware of how tense he'd been since Ravatogh—how strained he'd felt watching over Rose as she'd recovered and leaving her behind each time they went out on a hunt.

 _The caretaker needs taking care of from time to time, too, you know,_ she said softly. _You'd be doing me a favor if you took better care of yourself._

The sarcastic remark on the tip of his tongue was replaced with his hiss of pain as she wrapped her fingers around the base of his neck and squeezed, and she sent him a wave of apology as she ran her hands over the cords in his neck soothingly before beginning again more gently. Thinking she had finished when his neck was loose and boneless, he made to sit up, but she placed a light hand on the back of his head before burying her fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp until his hair was likely a wild disarray. He shuddered at the chills it sent down his spine and the glow of affection it kindled in his bones.

 _Thank you,_ he said when she pulled her hands away. He smiled softly at her as they stood, running the very tips of his first two fingers over her lip before pulling her mouth to his briefly. _I've never had the pleasure of experiencing that before._

She frowned as she dismissed the blanket and pillow and led him to the tent. _You have the back of a man who has carried too much weight on his shoulders,_ she said, sorrow lacing her tone. _It's my pleasure to soften you—and selfish of me, really. There's just something that happens to your face when you relax and your hair comes down._ She shivered, cupping both sides of his jaw and staring up at him in wonder. _Seraphic—I meant it then, and I mean it now. I could fall into those viridian eyes of yours._

Ducking his head, still somewhat abashed by her generous praise, he mumbled, _I'm certain I have no idea what you're talking about,_ before crouching under the tent flap and relaxing into his sleeping bag, ready to spend the evening with her.

 _But I'll feel much better once this Costlemark business is behind us,_ he said as she settled into her own bag next to him. _These old ruins seem to do more in the way of ruining us than anything._

 _Ah, that's tomorrow's adventure, though. Tonight, I have a surprise for you. It's been far too long since I've seen you smile, and I've only gotten one so far._

When he met her on the bridge, he found he couldn't contain the grin that seemed to spread over his face. He'd been looking forward to this moment all evening.

"There you are. That's two," she said softly, looking up at him her eyes alight with tenderness.

"So where are we going tonight?"

So far, Laura had never taken complete control over where they went on their adventures. Though he had no way of knowing what to even _know_ what to ask to see, they had developed a system where he would give her a mood word and she would present him with a list of options to choose from. His favorite adventure thus far had been when he'd asked to see infinity, and she had transported him to outer space to float weightlessly among the endless fields of stars as a swirling galaxy of sparkling orbs put on a private light show just for him. He'd never felt so humbly small yet so much like a god as he had in that timeless place as they danced amidst the cosmic dust.

It was unexpected, therefore, that her first choice of adventure was a completely empty and deserted Lestallum Market. Though he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at her mundane choice, he knew deep down it was unlikely to remain so for long. At least she'd thought to give the place a more hospitable climate in her recollections than reality.

"Hmm. I do believe I have been to this planet before," he mused.

"Shut up!" she laughed, hanging off his arm and looking up at him.

At the sound of her laughter, so playful and welcome after these last few wretched days, he looked down at her and smiled warmly, pleased that he'd been the one responsible for her making that sound.

"And that's three," she said, wrapping their forearms and entwining their fingers. "Now. Don't think I haven't noticed that you've been out of any sort of coffee for a few days now."

Grimacing, he said, "Yes. I apologize, but your tea, while a stimulating exercise in palate training, accomplishes very little in the way of perking me up."

"Remember what I promised you before? Look again."

When Ignis turned his eyes back to the stalls, the market had been transformed. Taking a couple of steps forward in amazement, his eyes roamed over each table, each barrel, each stall within range. And even as the breeze blew through the little square, he could smell it, practically taste it on the air.

Coffee.

Coffee beans, hot coffee, iced coffee, cold-brewed, espresso, overly-sweetened beverages that more closely resembled desserts than coffee, chocolate covered espresso beans, coffee ice cream—what seemed a countless number of coffee-themed foods and beverages packed the market, spilling over barrels, crowding the aisles, and loading the tables.

She stepped up behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing herself into his back. "This is every kind of coffee I have in my Pocket, from multiple planets, multiple universes. It's yours to sample here as I tried them—with no caffeine buzz—and experiment with back in the real world. The flavor will be based on how my palate perceived them at the time though, so fair warning."

"I—I don't know what to say!" he laughed, his eyes squinting closed. Fortunately, Prompto wasn't here in this moment to take a photo of him like this. "Again, no one has ever . . .," he paused. "This is more coffee than I could possibly drink in a lifetime."

"There's four," she said fondly, and he opened his eyes to see that she'd come around to look up at him. "Gods I've missed your smile. Come on, love. You've got a lot of coffee to try before morning."

* * *

"Well, how does it compare?" Laura asked the following morning as he sat in front of the camp fire.

He blew across the top of the mug and took his second sip, letting the liquid aerate just past his lips before splashing it across his palate and around his tongue. He breathed out after he swallowed, cataloging the aromas that slid over his tongue and out his nostrils—bitter, chocolate, a hint of a floral note with sweet red berry. Already he could feel his body buzz from the caffeine he'd been desperate to consume for days now and warm him from within.

"It's lacking the depth and intensity that your palate detects, apparently, but the general flavor profile is accurate. And of course I can't do the chemical composition analysis as you can. However, overall, I would say this is a more than adequate substitute."

"But more work for you to grind and percolate in the morning instead of opening a can, yeah? We'll have to bottle some to put away so you can have fresh in the car when you need it."

"Sounds like grounds for a celebration to me," he said with a small smile and a raise of his mug to her.

"Sixteen. What do you want to do this morning?" she asked, looking over to where Noct and Prompto were taking on Gladio in a violent wrestling match. The standard rules of engagement seemed to have fallen by the wayside some time ago—at least, the rules Ignis knew. He didn't recall learning such tactics as wedgies, passing gas on an opponent's face, and hair tousling during his instruction with the Crownsguard, but then again, Gladio had taken more advanced classes than he.

"We haven't spent much time south of the Disc; we should see what we can find in the area in the way of provisions."

Once he'd finished his coffee and they slowly drew away from the sounds of insults and laughter, they didn't find much—only a nest with birdbeast eggs. But he could sense Laura relaxing into a quiet walk as they wove their way through the tree trunks, her hand and mind entwined with his in quiet enjoyment of each other's company. Every now and then, he would send her fleeting impressions of things that caught his attention: a tiny bird with a splash of red under its wing only visible as it flitted by, a pebble with a vein of green running through the center, or the way the trees seemed to groan as the wind moved through them.

They had almost completed their circle of the haven area; he wasn't yet ready to relinquish this serenity with her, so he sat down at the base of a Duscaean pine, stretching out his legs until they tingled. He didn't need to say a word aloud or in her mind as she sat between his knees, leaning against his chest and reveling in the feeling of his heart beating and his breath moving his body against her back. Filling his lungs with the scent of her hair until they had stretched just as much as his legs, he cast his eyes around the stunning scenery. It was odd that he had such a personal connection to this striking landscape—found it to be agreeably beautiful—and yet had never visited here in his lifetime. He wondered if His Majesty had taken into account his personality when assigning these lands to his title.

Laura gently pulled his hands apart, which were clasped around her middle, and removed his gloves, placing them in the springy grass next to them. Drawing them close to her face, she seemed to examine them closely, studying the whorls of his fingerprints and the lines of his palms.

 _Reading my future?_ he asked with amusement.

She snorted. _Hardly._

An image appeared in his mind—the perpetual, undulating motion of twisting threads of red, blue, and gold looping in on one another, devouring each other, splitting off, twisting into knots, or simply curling off into nothingness—all forming a single tube that stretched to infinity.

 _There's so much there that I can't process,_ she said, leaning back against his shoulder and feathering her fingers against his, which he was surprised to find set the nerves of his sensitive fingertips alight with a tickling pleasure. _I didn't develop my time sense until after James died, and even still, the Doctor's memories are certainly no help. He was terrible when it came to time sense. No, I was wondering about your magic._

 _What about it?_

 _You're better at it than the others, besides Noct. You seem more comfortable using it, and I've seen you do things with it that the others can't. You're even able to heal me a bit. Is your magic stronger because it comes from Regis and not Noct?_

 _No, if that were the case, I would have lost my access to the Crystal when His Majesty died, as the Kingsglaive did. Come to think of it, why haven't you?_

 _Regis knew I would need access for longer than his lifespan._ _The Crystal wouldn't bond with me directly—unsurprisingly. But he and the Lucii were able to mediate a sort of . . . portal so I could access the Crystal myself._

Ignis's eyes went wide. _Do you mean to say that you have the Power of Kings as Noct does?_

 _Oh gods, no. I may be able to access its power, but it and the Lucii still despise me. I could never wield the Ring or the Royal Armiger, but the portal does allow me unfettered access to Glaive magic._

 _Your mage powers,_ he confirmed.

She nodded. _And you?_

He took a moment to swat at a fly that had been buzzing around their heads since they'd sat down before responding, _I've always seen magic as more than the ability to throw balls at targets. I ruminated on my access to the Crystal, studying how the energy felt in my mind and body. Perhaps it has given me more insight into how I can channel that energy more myself, though my lack of royal blood prohibits me from using it as the Lucian Kings do._ _Or perhaps it's simply innate._

She twisted so she could look up into his face. _I wonder if there's something we can do with that, using our bond and my access to the Crystal together._

 _Wouldn't that use up too much of our mental resources and cause you pain?_

 _It certainly wouldn't be something we could use all the time, but it would be an additional tool in our arsenal should we need it. As to the pain, it wouldn't hurt me any more than my connection already does. It may hurt_ you _though, some. You are a pureblood mortal child of Eos, so the Crystal would accept you, but your energy would be tainted with our bond._

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, parting them with his tongue and savoring the flavor of life and their bond until he felt his body begin to respond to the sensation. When he pulled away, he locked eyes with her. _Another assignment for our sparring sessions?_

 _It's a date,_ she replied with a flirtatious grin over her shoulder, but then she sat up and moved so that she was sitting beside him, her legs crossed. _Noct is coming. I think he's half wanting some time alone, half hoping to find us._

 _I take it he's on a path that will lead him to us?_ She nodded, showing him Noct's location and the tenor of his thoughts. He thought for a moment and said, _Would you mind terribly if we invite him to sit with us? It may reassure him that we, at least, consider everything back to normal._

 _Of course. We should talk about something frivolous—maybe be a little playful?_

 _Yes, I agree that it's the best way to handle the situation. If he spends much longer in this mood, he's liable to lean back on old habits. He's been doing so well lately, and I would hate to see him regress because of something beyond his control._

"Oh, hey. Sorry you guys," Noct said with an awkward wave as he came into view and turned to walk in another direction. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

"Not at all. Come sit with us if you wish. Laura and I were just enjoying the forest."

"Yeah?" he asked, stumbling a little as he changed directions again midstride before coming to sit down cross-legged in the grass across from them, leaning back against a smaller tree and facing off to the side. "Yeah, the forest is nice. Some of the trees remind me of the Citadel gardens."

"As they should; those trees and hundreds of species of flowers were taken from all over Lucis and planted there as a symbol of the kingdom's unity. It's certain that some of those trees were taken from this region," Ignis said, even though the Prince should have already known this, as often as he spent time in those gardens as a boy.

"I wish I'd received a tour of the Citadel during my brief time there. I've heard so much about this garden, but I never got to see it personally," Laura said.

"I used to walk through there sometimes but never paid much attention. Usually just went there to sneak out the windows," Noct said with a shrug, looking down at his shoes.

Ignis let out a pained groan. "So, _that's_ how you always managed to escape. Convenient you never seemed to take that route when sneaking out with me."

"Ahh, so you were the sneak-away sort. I was too. Used to skip school and head off to the shops with my mate Shareen. Gods, I haven't thought of Shareen in forever," Laura said.

Ignis glared at her, tilting his head. "And don't get me started on _your_ education. It's a wonder you weren't a completely feral child."

"Who says I wasn't?" she asked with a smirk.

That irksome fly buzzed in his ear again, hitting his face before flying just out of reach. This perhaps would be an extreme reaction to his mild irritation at the nuisance, but it would certainly be good practice. Closing his eyes and summoning a dagger, he immersed himself in the insect's sound, the feel of the wind on his face.

 _Are you really going to do what I think you're going to do?_ Laura asked.

Ignis opened his eyes and found the fly immediately. Flipping the blade in his hand, he readied it just over his shoulder, waiting until the fly passed at just the right point so that his blade would bury itself safely into the tree trunk. He flicked his wrist lightly, sending the blade speeding in the tree's direction and pinning the fly to the wood with a dull thunk.

Pride surged through him from both his side and Laura's as he smirked down at her, but his victory was interrupted by Noct's exclamation.

"Six, Specs are you _trying_ to kill me now?" His eyes shifted to the left, off to the side and about three feet above his head where the dagger was buried.

"Nonsense," Ignis said, raising his chin a little and grinning. "I would miss you terribly if I'd ended up hitting you, and as you can see, my aim is impeccable."

"Sharp as ever, Ig," Noct said, shaking his head.

"I do hope I didn't put you on edge. I did, after all, make it a point not to aim too closely."

"Nah, you didn't. Don't want life to be too dull. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"Keen wisdom, Highness. Perhaps your mental acuity is improving under my tutelage after all."

Noct chuckled in return, "Yeah, I'm pretty awesome like that."

Ignis smiled in satisfaction. Every once in a while, it was a simple matter to bring that light back to the Prince's eyes, and if it involved Ignis beating Noct at one of their favorite games, then so much the better.

 _I don't think I'll ever understand your relationship,_ Laura said. _But then again, I get the feeling he doesn't understand ours, either._

 _Are you implying that I am the common denominator?_

 _If the shoe fits . . .._

Seeing that Noct was settling deeper into his position to fall asleep, Ignis ushered them back to the haven, where he spent much of the late morning and early afternoon studying his bestiary materials for the area before beginning supper while the sun was still high. They would be heading to bed soon to get a good afternoon's rest before taking on Costlemark before the sun rose the next morning.

As they sat around the campfire ring, Laura regaled the entire group, as she so rarely did, with a tale of one of her misadventures with the Doctor.

"So, we're backed against a wall, yeah? Nufin' but stools an' a sonic screwdriver ta protect ourselves. They're all closin' in on us, chantin', 'We must feed! We must feed!' Suddenly, th' lead one stops, shakes his lit'le translator thingy, and says, 'You. If you are hungry.' Oh gods, it was _terrifying_ while it was 'appening, but 'ilarious to look back on."

"Ha! We've seen some scary stuff out here, but tentacle-faced aliens closing in on us? I woulda noped right outta there!" Prompto said, leaning back and slapping his knee.

"Dunno, depends on how good the grub was," Gladio said, stabbing at his tomato and egg stir-fry.

"B'lieve me, Protein One was nufin' compared to what Ignis makes. You're bet'er off here."

 _What's the mood word for tonight, love?_ she asked as they stood to get ready for bed.

He'd been thinking about how to answer this question all day. _Something small, seemingly insignificant, but stunning._

 _How does visiting the waterfalls of Bingorgia sound? The waters grow thick with bioluminescent phytoplankton that sets the water aglow at night. There's a spa there we can go to before taking a dip._

 _To say that it sounds heavenly would be an understatement,_ he said immediately, not even waiting to hear her other options. He was most certainly looking forward to the relaxing afternoon before descending into yet another pit of hell that evening.

* * *

"So," Prompto said as he skipped along the path leading up to the ruined tower. "Weird building, eh guys?"

"It's like no architecture I've ever seen," Ignis admitted reluctantly. Then he added, "However, some of the design elements appear to be similar to those of Steyliff. Given that and the fact that the structure can only be accessed at night, this place is likely of Solheimian origin."

"That can't be good," Noct mumbled.

Gladio grunted a laugh. "Wouldn't wanna meet the weirdo who built this thing, ancient or not."

"Check it out though, glow in the dark!" Prompto exclaimed in fascination, pointing up at the glowing tower.

They stopped for a moment, and Ignis craned his neck to look up at the inner structure of the tower, his eyes following one of the barred strips of red light all the way to the top.

 _These are similar to the lights in Steyliff. Perhaps they share a similar source of power?_

 _Or the same source,_ Laura replied. _Reminds me of these garden decorations on Earth—glass balls that would sit in the sun all day and collect energy, then glow at night. But with this lot's obsession with the sun and immortality. . .._

 _Would that it were as innocent as a garden decoration,_ he agreed.

Once they had descended into the ruins themselves, the place opened up to become . . . well, beautiful, in a way, just as Steyliff had been. The ruin's intricate stone tiles, towering columns, and stone ceilings were a stark contrast to the dark, cold foreboding he felt creeping up his spine. Reaching out, he could taste the now-familiar insipid essence of daemons and that golden power of Eos that had been twisted to become tainted with streaks of black and malevolence.

 _Now who's developing synesthesia?_ she remarked slyly. _But your assessment is correct. Honestly, Ignis, I'm so proud of how far you've come, so fast._

For once, Ignis inwardly preened at her praise. He _had_ been doing rather well lately, with both her combat training and using his Intuition in non-combat situations such as this. He'd mastered his regenerate and virulent venom skills, and not two days ago, he'd managed to produce the first stirrings of flame from his hands to his daggers—a technique he'd decided to call sagefire in recognition of knowing himself well enough to produce such magic and for knowing his own name. But Rose was the best of the best among them, and if _she_ was impressed with his progress, then he supposed the boosting of his own ego was somewhat justified.

"Hey, found the emerald," Gladio called out after several rooms of darkness and daemons.

"Now we just gotta find this Sword of the Tall," Noct complained.

Laura pointed down a spiral ramp of grand stonework, surrounded by high open arches and descending deeper and deeper into the ground. "I'm betting it's down there. You know, where it's darker and colder."

So they descended, down and down and down—and it only grew darker and colder, as Laura had predicted, with each daemon-infested spiral ramp. Much like in Steyliff, they came to a wide open room with a crumbling stone bridge that hovered high over a seemingly endless drop-off and led to the very central shaft of the tower, and much like in Steyliff, they were immediately set upon by daemons on both sides the moment they had reached the center.

 _Six ereshkigals and two yojimbos,_ Ignis noted as he summoned the drain lance that Cid had been kind enough to upgrade twice for him and facing one of the yojimbos. _Seems as though we aren't the only ones expecting more from ourselves. Will you take the other one? It appears to be rather attached to Prompto._

 _Will do._

Though the radiant lance or orichalcums they'd found earlier in the evening would have likely been a better choice, his drain lance was sufficient to take out his yojimbo and an ereshkigal. He could hardly lament for not being able to use weapons that hadn't yet been cleaned and sharpened after spending Astrals only knew how long down here.

"Wait," Laura said looking up at the ceiling when the bridge was clear. "Do you guys see that? The symbol we've been finding on all the doors. Oh gods."

"Nope," Noct said, looking up.

Ignis sighed. "If you would all be so kind as to point your travel lights at the ceiling, please."

As they complied and their lights caught the gold patterning to reflect it back, he inhaled sharply. The high, circular ceiling was covered in the symbol of immortality, over and over and over, repeating and connecting on two levels as the sun rays led straight to the glowing red center shaft like a beacon.

"This place is sucking in the light of the sun and doing something with it. Perhaps to steal Eos's power and achieve immortality?" Laura said.

"Could be powering this place, too," Gladio said as they proceeded. "Maybe even Steyliff, from what you told me."

"So the structures are closed during the day to collect energy to be powered at night," Ignis said, thinking. "It's certainly possible. But in regard to Eos, there's no Solheim or Eos for the collection to take place any longer. Her mind may have enough life left to keep the sun rising, but her body is dead."

"Automated system," Laura replied as they made their way down another spiral ramp. "If Gladio's right, it's probably only collecting sunlight for power these days."

"Hey, guys," Noct said as he peered around the next arch, checking for danger. "It really opens up back here."

At first, they could find no way to proceed in the large open room, and Ignis was beginning to wonder whether the sword they were searching for was hidden somewhere less obvious—until he began examining the floor. If the nature of their journey thus far had been to keep heading down, the floor was the only solution.

"Whoa, Noct—check this out!" Prompto called out as Ignis leaned over to examine what appeared to be a large puzzle piece carved from a stone square and placed into the floor.

As Noct, Laura, and Gladio joined them, the five of them stood around the square, staring at it. Ignis knew that wherever this new devilry was was hardly going to be agreeable.

"Well? May as well get this over with," Noct told them. "Everyone step on it at once. Whatever happens, it's happening to us all together."

Ignis stepped on the block with the others, crossing his arms to ward off the chill and dread seeping into his bones as the block began to descend with a grinding groan of stone on stone.

"Whoa, whoa, what's going on?!" Prompto cried out.

"Hell if I know!" Noct shot back.

To say that their destination was an unpleasant experience was a bit of an understatement, as the maze of blocks and moving platforms led them through a series of freezing, dark, claustrophobia-inducing, daemon-infested tunnels. Working in the cramped space was dangerous—the five of them crammed into each confining space with Noct's warp-striking, Gladio's massive thunderbolt greatsword swinging, and Prompto's bullets ricocheting. Only his connection with Laura kept her out of his way during the frays, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to use his new fighting technique in the small space as his hearing grew less and less sensitive and his body grew weary and numb from the cold.

As far as what would happen should one of the blocks cease moving while they were trapped under thirty feet of solid stone . . . well, he tried not to think about it.

"Okay, this isn't funny," Noct grumbled when they'd finished with four bussemands and stepped onto the next block.

"I agree that it's hardly a brou-haha," Ignis drawled, "but forward is our only option."

"I feel like we keep going in circles though," Prompto complained, shivering.

"There is a way out of every box, a solution to every puzzle; it's just a matter of finding it. But honestly, Prom, do you own your own jacket?" Laura asked amusedly, taking off her jacket and handing it to him. "You might want to invest in one."

Prompto dismissed his pistol long enough to shove his arms through the sleeves. "Oooh, it's warm," he said as he pulled the jacket close around him. "And it smells nice."

"And ya look real pretty, too," Gladio teased, fluttering his eyelashes.

 _How are you holding up?_ Laura asked, inserting a warm hand into his, making him wish for a moment that he didn't have gloves on so he could feel the heat of it directly.

 _I'm quite all right. I, after all, am not the one recovering from a near-mortal assault. The others may not have noticed that you're still a bit slow on your feet, but I have._

 _You're calling me slow?!_ she asked in mock horror.

He couldn't fault her for using humor as a mechanism to cover for her enervated state, as he'd only just done the very same. Still, he grew concerned for whatever deadly beast likely guarded the Royal Arm at the end of this passage and how she would fare. And it wasn't just Laura; if Ignis himself felt this fatigued, what about Noct and the others?

 _Stop your fussing, love. We're all fine,_ she said affectionately. _Remember, we have Gladio this time._

At long last, their maze of tunnels opened up into a small, circular room, which seemed only to exist for the golden circular platform in the center, surrounded by the same red-lit, carved stone columns they had seen throughout the ruins.

"Wait, definitely never been here before! All right! Take that labyrinth!" Prompto said excitedly.

"Difficult to miss the sun imagery here," Laura muttered as they stepped onto the golden-rayed platform and Noct reached a hand out to touch the shining gold ball in the center.

"Indeed," Ignis agreed.

In stark contrast to the hours they'd spent standing on the grinding, lurching puzzle blocks, the platform descended quickly and smoothly with an almost electronic hum.

"Well this is . . . different," Laura noted mildly.

"Uh, guys?" Prompto asked nervously.

"So freaking creepy," Noct agreed.

 _The architecture has changed entirely,_ Ignis said as ancient carved stone gave way to an almost futuristic-looking shaft of aged iron pipes, spinning rings of some unidentifiable metal, and that sinister red light—so bright that Ignis had to squint until his eyes adjusted after the hours spent in darkness.

 _And in the basement, too. Seems as though Solheim was hiding their darkness from someone—the gods, perhaps?_ she said.

"Well, I suppose now we know what makes this place run," Ignis said as the platform settled into a slot in the center of a massive circular room. "And I see we have yet another grand hall before us."

"Kinda reminds me a little of the magitek generators they have at the bases," Prompto said in a low voice, looking up and studying the spinning turret hanging upside down from the ceiling directly above their heads.

As they stepped off the platform and Ignis craned his neck to get a better view of the contraption, his eyes caught the flash of gold near the ceiling. "The immortality markings," he said, gesturing with his head, "they lead directly into the device. A weapon to steal a god's power would certainly be motivation for Ifrit to turn on Solheim. This may have been the very device to begin the Astral War."

"Its purpose does seem clear," Laura replied before sighing. "Our brains have always outraced our hearts. Our science charges ahead, our souls lag behind. What I don't understand is why this is aimed at the ground."

"It would have to if it powers Steyliff t—" Gladio started, but was interrupted by the now-familiar bone shattering percussions of giant footsteps and the deep bass of an echoing roar that made Ignis's chest ache with the vibration.

"Oh gods, not again," Laura moaned softly, her eyes catching the creature responsible for the commotion on the other side of the room and her mind filling with dread and heartbreak.

 _I do not care for this civilization that uses my kin to guard its shameful secrets,_ Ignis heard Eilendil growl through Laura's mind. _They are fortunate to be extinct that I cannot rip their spines from their flesh myself._

Ignis inspected the creature—similar to a seadevil—but enormous, with massive blue-green horns extending from its skull; short forelegs with deadly, curling claws; and stunted, heavy-looking wings. Its physiology did resemble that of a dragon, much as the quetzalcoatl had, and Ignis wondered if the two species were as sentient as Eilendil. If his experience feeling the death of the quetzalcoatl was any indication, they likely weren't, but even Ignis felt the stirrings of regret—particularly on Eilendil's behalf—as he summoned his drain lance to exterminate the rare and extraordinary creature.

"A jabberwock," Ignis said to the group. "It's weak to ice, machinery, and polearms—and can inflict petrification, so be sure to have on the proper items."

"Any special meaning to that one, Laura?" Noct teased, summoning a polearm and grinning.

Laura shook her head gravely. "A creature from a nonsense poem written by an Earth poet. You guys take the word 'bandersnatch' from there too. This is beyond language theft. We're seeping into culture now, as well."

Ignis turned to her. He remembered well the sensation of feeling death in his mind after experiencing it secondhand in Steyliff, diminished though it was through their bond, and as the group was at a considerable advantage this time, he couldn't allow her to participate in her current condition. She would be just as much a liability as a help. As she had already cut him off to spare him the backlash and allow him to do his duty, he spoke aloud.

"I know you abhor being coddled, but I'm afraid I must insist that you stay back from this one. We have Gladio this time, and the creature doesn't fly or use magical attacks." He looked to Noct for confirmation.

"If Iggy thinks you should hang back, then I agree," Noct said with a nod.

Laura looked up at Ignis, her eyes wide and pained and her jaw twitching. He knew her well enough to know she was fighting her instinct to disregard her own health for their safety, but even she must have known that she wouldn't be able to handle being so close in proximity when they once again killed a creature related to a species that her people shared so close a bond with—particularly with her synapses still healing.

 _Please,_ he thought to her, hoping the expression in his eyes would convey the message as he touched their bond.

She finally nodded and began backing away to the other side of the room. "You're right."

"All right, let's do this," Gladio said, summoning his sword.

Perhaps it was a testament to their burgeoning skill in practical applications of combat, but the creature was far less trouble than anticipated. The Jabberwock was cumbersome on its two hind legs, and its most vicious attack, a powerful and effective side stomp, was easily dodged by the entire party. Though Aranea had been a formidable ally to have on their team, Ignis was relieved to have Gladio back—more content than Ignis had ever seen him and swinging around that unreasonably large sword as he assisted them in watching the Prince's sometimes reckless back.

"Careful, don't let him get you!" Prompto called out to Gladio as the jabberwock lifted its claw to smash it down on the metal grating of the floor again.

Gladio rolled to the side and swung his sword at the beast's leg. "Same to you," he called back.

As Noct called on Gladio to finish the creature off, Ignis's eyes widened at the reverberating shockwave that disrupted the metal flooring with a whoosh of air and thunder, dropping the jabberwock to the ground with a thud. It seemed as though Ignis wasn't the only one improving his techniques in secret.

"Impressive," Ignis remarked admiringly, raising an eyebrow.

"Fuck yeah!" Gladio called out, hoisting his sword high in the air before dismissing it.

Ignis reached out to Laura's thread, grazing his mind against hers in an attempt to comfort her for the pain she must be feeling, even located across the expansive room as she was. It would some time before she was feeling stable enough to open their connection again, but as his eyes caught sight of her coming toward them in the dim, he was relieved to see that the distance had allowed her to escape from retching, at the very least.

"So where's the sword?" Noct asked.

Laura stepped up from behind Ignis, lightly brushing his arm with a hand before kneeling at the jabberwock's pointed snout. She reached out to place a hand between the creature's eyes, swallowing as her expression twisted in regret.

"I don't think I'll ever understand this . . . whatever this is," Ignis heard Noct whisper to Prompto from behind a hand, and Prompto nodded in agreement.

"Surely you don't intend to bury the creature here in the metal floor," Ignis protested, stepping forward. He wasn't certain how much energy that would take, but it would no doubt require more than she had expended burying the saphyrtails in Longwythe.

"No. A dragon's rite," she said in a low voice before removing her hand from the jabberwock's snout and whispering, "Angulócë ith _ī_ r."

Silver-white flame erupted from the tips of her fingers, engulfing the creature's body instantaneously, reducing it to ash within seconds without so much as a puff of smoke. Once the flame had disappeared and his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting once again, Ignis could make out what he assumed to be the Sword of the Tall lying across the immortality symbols that lined the outer edges of the floor.

"Guess that answers that question," she said as Ignis helped her to her feet.

He watched Noct closely as the sword slammed into his chest, examining his eyes for the red he'd seen when Noct gained the power of the gods, but Ignis could detect no difference in his dearest friend beyond a curious, sort of resigned expression. He wondered what went through the Prince's mind in times such as these, but he knew that no matter how long he sat in silence by Noct's side, he would never speak of his insights with the divine and immortal—a piece of him that Ignis could never touch that seemed to hover just a step below the divine itself. Ignis hadn't known when he'd made the promise to His Majesty that this would be Noct's destiny, and he wondered if it would be that very destiny that would force him to break his word. If only Ignis could do _something_ , at least assist in carrying his burdens. Until the unlikely event that Noct decided to allow them all to share the load, all Ignis could do was take care of him to the very best of his ability.

As they exited the ruins, and made their way back to the haven, Laura opened their connection once more.

 _Hello, love,_ she said, allowing him to look into her mind to see for himself that she was exhausted, but mostly all right. _I'll definitely be sleeping all this afternoon and through the night._

 _Eat first,_ he said sternly. _Even if it's only toast._

"So that whole thing down there was to collect solar energy, power Costlemark and Steyliff, and steal Eos's power to get immortality?" Prompto asked.

"And Ifrit turned on Solheim for it," Noct said with a nod.

"This is all conjecture at this point, but it appears so," Ignis told him.

"But where does the Starscourge come into all this?" Gladio asked.

Laura shook her head. "I don't know. I still don't see where the scourge comes from. Perhaps draining Eos created a dark illness of some sort."

Ignis tilted his head, thinking. "Perhaps Ifrit wasn't the villain in all this. It appears as though he was merely saving his mother from being attacked by Solheim. But that explanation simply leaves more questions. How did their infected corpses end up at Ravatogh at the hands of Bahamut? Why did the other Astrals not side with Ifrit? Why was Eos erased from history? What was her crime?"

"We either don't have all the information yet, or we got something wrong," Gladio said.

 _Have you thought about where you'd like to go tonight?_ Laura asked.

"Only time will tell. Perhaps we shall discover more answers regarding Pitioss in Altissia," Ignis replied.

 _Somewhere peaceful._

* * *

 **Author's Note: _  
_**

Yes, I know the "almanac" entry referenced isn't really an almanac but a loading screen, but I've decided the characters should know this, so now it's an almanac entry.

So, for you FFN people, I've been putting links to images up on AO3 of the things found in game, such as the immortality symbols, the statue of Eos in the main square, or Eos's wing in the Rock. So the story is available there with links. Fanfiction seems to really, really hate linking.

Also, another reminder that though I am pointing to "proof" in game with my links, this is not canon, as enticing as the idea would be. About 98% of these theories have been put together by other people, whom I will credit in the Pitioss chapter to avoid spoilers, but if you'd like to know them now, just send me a message.


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's Note:  
**

Hopefully you won't hate reading this chapter as much as I hated writing it. However, some things needed to be covered, so here they are.

Warning: Minor NSFW in the cooking scene and at the very, very end.

* * *

"I'm going to harvest those carrots now, I think," Laura said as soon as Ignis had parked the Regalia at Cape Caem. "Would you mind calling Tony and have him meet me today? I'd like to get them traded before we head out tomorrow."

"Of course," Ignis said with a nod, glancing up at her in the rearview mirror before turning the car off.

"Thinking of taking Iris to the shore," Gladio said as he got out of the car. "Who knows when I'll see her after we leave? Hey Prompto, you mind if I borrow Sunny?"

"Yeah, no prob, man," Prompto said. He hopped out of the car and danced from foot to foot, swinging his arms back and forth and cracking his neck. "Got some reading to do anyway."

Noct raised his eyebrows in surprise before giving Prompto a playful shove. "Hey, I didn't know you could read."

"I'd be careful what I say about his education if I were you, Highness," Ignis said. "You did attend the same school, after all."

Laura scooted over the seat, shut the car door behind her, and strolled up the hill alongside Ignis as the others rushed ahead, eager to get to the house. "Will you be nearby when he comes? He's offering to trade all sorts of things, and you'd be best for knowing what we need most."

"Certainly. I'll likely be assisting Dustin with clearing the larger pieces of an old wood pile that's been rotting away on the property. I promised I would assist him when last we were here."

"See you later then," she said with a soft smile, and he returned it, reaching out to give her hand a brief squeeze before heading to the house to find Dustin.

They kept their minds entwined as they separated, and as Laura worked in the garden, she watched him as he spent time with Dustin, as it was a rare sight to see him interact with someone regularly outside the retinue. Ignis was relieved to be able to work with his fellow Crownsguard without embarrassing himself this time, particularly because he held Dustin in such high esteem. It was easy to see why; they had so much in common: both were often overlooked because of their reserved and humble natures, both were unwaveringly loyal to the Crown, and both were subtle in their ferocity when provoked. Ignis had sparred often with him back in Insomnia and had learned many of his more specialized skills, such as the use of poisons, from him.

 _A sort of mentor, then?_ she asked as he and Dustin hauled another tree stump down the hill.

 _I suppose. One of a handful._

As she moved to the next row of the plot, Laura took in a deep breath, tasting the sea salt on the air in the heavy breeze and the fresh wave of moist soil she'd just released when she'd dug up another carrot. She so rarely got to be this person—the grower, the creator. Even when she was in a universe where she didn't have to be the soldier, she was still the explorer, the vagabond. It seemed appropriate, therefore, that she got to have this moment of putting down some roots here in this peaceful place as she had put down her own roots with Ignis.

She sat back in the soil for a moment, snuggling into the feeling of peace she felt at the sound of the ocean waves crashing on the rocks far below her, the feel of her husband's mind wrapped around hers, the idea that their family was all safe and relatively happy—given the circumstances. She ran her fingers through the dirt, picking up a handful and squeezing it before letting it drop back down with a satisfying thud.

 _I don't believe I've ever felt you this blissful before¸_ Ignis remarked.

 _Last time we were here, Gladio was leaving, and you were a mess. Everything is just . . . good, for the moment. Make sure you enjoy it too, yeah?_

 _Yes, love. I've been taking in that sea air since we arrived._

She felt Tony's mind arrive at the Cape just as she was finishing digging up the last row, shaking the loose soil from the orange roots and placing them in the basket she'd found nearby. As she rushed to pull up the remaining plants, she alerted Ignis before standing to greet the restauranteur.

"Hey, Laura," Tony called out with a wave. "Heard a rumor you got me some of those carrots I been lookin' for."

"Yeah, a whole load of 'em," she replied as Ignis joined them. "How ya been? Did ya decide to move forward with that tastin' menu idea?"

"Already implemented! And I gotta tell ya, it's been a hit so far."

As Laura handed the basket to Tony to count the carrots, Ignis said, "That's most excellent news indeed. We'll have to visit your establishment when next we're in the area."

"You do that, and we'll be sure ta take real good care of ya," Tony said with a nod. "All right, here's what I got to barter. These look amazin'! So much bigger than what we usually get. How'd ya do it?"

As Ignis carefully inspected everything available, Laura gave Tony a sly smile. "Trade secret, sorry." It wasn't as though he'd be able to replicate the imprint a Lliamérian left on the soil when planting; she was created to grow things, despite how few opportunities she'd had in her life to do so. Growing up in London, she had hardly been the sort to find the idea of gardening particularly interesting. But those first two hundred years she'd spent in Palomia, singing Therinal into her home and learning how to use the magic she'd apparently been born with, would have been the epitome of her existence had it not all been a façade and a prelude to death.

"The weapons will be of most use to us," Ignis finally said. "And it appears as though they are upgradable. As much as I loathe adding more to Cid's already prodigious work schedule, he may be able to improve some of these before we leave."

"Sure thing," Tony said. "Take 'em all. And tell ya what—since these are so good, pick ya out one more thing."

"Hey, that's really generous of you. Thanks, Tony," Laura said with a bright smile.

Ignis tilted his head at the remaining wares, pretending to think, but she could tell by the way his attention kept darting to the same place and the restlessness in his mind that he'd already picked something out and was trying not to seem too eager or rude.

"If you're certain . . .," he said carefully. "That's very kind of you." He reached for a bright red berry sitting on top of a pile in a wooden quart basket, stopping just short of touching it. "Would you mind?"

"Nah, go ahead and try it. Just got those in all the way from Tenebrae, believe it or not. Hard to get imported goods these days, what with the Empire's blockades in Galdin and all, but managed to get ahold of these. Ulwaat berries, they're called."

Ignis shot her a look. _You don't think . . .._

 _I have no idea, but get them anyway and try. We don't need anything else he's offering, and if you save me one, I can put it in the Pocket and grow more if they turn out to be what you're looking for._

He held the small red berry up to his nose and sniffed delicately before holding it out for her to smell—floral, sweet, and tart all at the same time.

 _Reminds me of a raspberry, but more exotic_ , she said.

 _We don't have those here. But these taste much as they smell. I believe I'll get them, unless there's something you wanted for yourself?_

 _Like what?_ she snorted. _A sticker that looks eerily like you? I don't even want to know what he's doing with that._

As Laura needed to start a batch of loaves to finish off before they left, and Ignis was eager to try out the new berries immediately, they thanked Tony for his generosity and made their way to the house.

 _Do you ever notice that we've spent more time in the kitchen than anywhere else on the Cape?_ he asked.

 _Well, it's a rare opportunity that we have one large enough for the two of us to work, but yes, I've always thought you cook too much for a man of such varied interests._

She felt his mind grow somewhat hesitant as he said, _I have a confession to make. I was . . . somewhat ambivalent about cooking before I left Insomnia._

That didn't surprise her, honestly. Those first few days on the road, she could feel the loneliness radiating off him every time he went off to his kitchen area, brushing aside Prompto's and her offers to help out of politeness, so she'd made it a point to follow him anyway and keep him company, perhaps lighten the load a bit when he would let her, though it took some elbowing to get him to acquiesce. As he'd been so much busier back in Insomnia, she imagined that shopping and cooking had been merely another source of work for him to do—alone. Noct hardly seemed the type to take interest in a new flavor profile or ingredient, which is what seemed to excite him most, so she had joined in his fascination by exploring all the regional ingredients new to the both of them, discussing how they could be used in dishes, and, once he'd come to know the truth about her, introducing some popular flavor combinations from other planets. The food was definitely one of the perks of traveling, after all.

 _It's always made him happy,_ he continued, looking up at the house. _No matter how irritated he would get with me, it was the one thing he always seemed to appreciate. But now, traveling like this and getting to try all these new ingredients, I'm finding the ritual of it to be simultaneously stimulating and relaxing._

"Hey, Prom," Laura said as Ignis shut the front door behind them. "You busy?"

 _If you truly do enjoy it, maybe we'll have to spend some more time experimenting with what I have in my Pocket then._

 _Perhaps only those from the places we've visited together. Ingredients without the cultural context seems—_

"Just reading up on some stuff," Prompto said with a shrug, leaning back on the couch to look at them. "Cindy sent me all these books I can read on my phone."

"Well, if you'd like to take the opportunity to get some practical practice in, might I suggest you take these to Cid and offer your services?" Ignis asked, summoning the weapons they'd just bartered for.

"Uhh . . . yeah, no prob," he said reluctantly, his mind coloring with unease, but he stood and gathered everything Ignis had laid on the table. "Gonna be real fun asking him to do all these before tomorrow."

"We all must make sacrifices for the greater good. You may have to forfeit a limb or two, but with any luck, your offer to help will soften the blow."

"I sure hope so! Come check on me if I don't show for dinner . . . see if I'm still alive," he said, trying to wave but nearly dropping the absorb shield in the process.

"He knows he can just dismiss those, right?" Laura realized after he'd gone. "Poor Prom. I don't envy him. I thought I could charm anyone until I met Cid."

Seemingly on autopilot, Ignis summoned the ingredients and tools for the pastry.

"You may have managed to charm him more than he's letting on," he said amusedly as he measured the flour and dumped it into a bowl.

"Of course you know the recipe by heart," she said as he put in the remaining ingredients and began to mix the dough.

"I should hope so; I _have_ made this recipe at least twice a week for over a decade."

As she took out her own levain and mix of rye and bread flours, her awareness couldn't help but wander to him as he worked—the cords of his neck pulling tight and the muscles of his jaw tensing as he pressed the spoon down into the dough, his beautifully elegant hands that she so rarely got to see bare, the tendons in his arms pulling and relaxing, his furrowed brow and intense expression, and even his stance as he moved. And his mind—she wasn't surprised to find when they'd bonded that his mind _never_ stopped, but watching him stir as he planned how much sugar would be best in the berry mixture, the best way to integrate the timing of making dinner for so many people alongside his current project, what mood word he should choose for this evening, how long it would be before they could find some time alone together, and whether or not he should stay up late this evening to study his resources on Altissia, she found that she adored the constant, wandering chatter in her head—loved the organized chaos of his beautiful mind and the pleasure of his company. God, she was in love with him, and she had it bad. Even when he irritated her with his tendency to hover, she knew it was only because of the heart she'd fallen in love with.

 _It will never cease to amaze me that a woman as experienced as yourself can find something as mundane as me mixing dough stirring,_ he remarked casually, not looking up at her, but she saw the corner of his lips quirk up into a small smile.

As the autolyze phase of her mix seemed to be finished, she added a little more water, her levain, and some salt and began mixing roughly with her hands, tearing into the gooey dough.

 _What can I say? As beautiful a man as you are? It's as though you were tailor-made to be my fantasy._ When pink stained the very tops of his cheeks at her words, she continued, _Yep, that too. Gods damn._

He placed the dough in the fridge to chill before pulling out the quart of berries, handing one to her to put away in her Pocket, and dumping them into a bowl to wash. _If that's your reaction to mixing, I'm not sure I would survive your reaction to kneading dough, or gods forbid, laminating._

 _Got some dough right here if you want to find out for yourself,_ she said, shooting him a flirtatious grin before sending him an image of him leaning back on his elbows against the very counter he was currently standing against, his eyes squeezed tight and his head thrown back as she kneeled on the floor in front of him, her tongue dragging over the tip of his wet cock. Gods, how she missed him. Between the gods awful handprints and his overprotectiveness, they hadn't been together since before Ravatogh, and they were both beginning to feel the effects.

Her timing was perfect, as ever, because right as Ignis dropped the saucepan he was holding to the counter with a clatter, his cheeks flaming and his eyes darkening, Noct had decided to come out of the bedroom upstairs and look over the landing.

"What is it about you and Caem, Specs?" he asked as he descended the stairs.

 _Perfect timing, love,_ he said, pressing himself up against the counter. _He was only just beginning not to watch me like a child._

 _I'm sorry,_ she replied with regret. _He only started moving as I was sending it to you. He must've been on the couch right next to the door._

"Am I not permitted a mistake now and then? After all, even the gods aren't infallible," he replied, somehow managing to keep the embarrassment at being caught out of his tone as he shot her a look.

"So you're making the pastries again?" Noct asked. "Haven't had 'em in a while."

"Apologies, but they're somewhat difficult to make without the proper equipment. I'm looking forward to sampling these though, I believe I may have made a breakthrough."

"Cool. Lookin' forward to it," he mumbled, flopping on his back into the couch cushions. "Gotta start thinking about heading out tomorrow I guess."

"Yes, which means you should pack the things you left behind last time and clean your side of the bedroom of your clutter. Seeing as how you're likely to punctuate that with several games of King's Knight, I expect it should take you most of the day."

Noct heaved a dramatic sigh, got up off the couch, and trudged back upstairs, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

 _He still seems . . . off today,_ Ignis said, frowning up to the door where he'd disappeared. _Perhaps I shouldn't have sent him back upstairs. You wouldn't happen to have any insights, would you?_

 _Remember? I can't tell any more than you can by looking at his face. You probably get more from him than I do, actually, since you know him so well._

As she set the dough aside for its first rise, Laura pulled out Lucian tomatoes, Leiden potatoes, chocobeans, Saxham rice, Eos peas, and wild onion to begin prepping so they could replenish their store of pre-made meals, which had turned out to be an incredible timesaver for them both while they were on the road, even if he still often pulled out his kitchen equipment to supplement what they'd already made. He was still finding ways to keep himself busier than anyone, and she could respect that because it made him who he was—a man who would always look for ways to improve himself no matter how much free time he was given, even if it was simply improving his mind by relaxing with a book. But at least he was beginning to find the time to do things _he_ enjoyed.

It had been spellbinding, watching him slowly come into his own since he'd left Insomnia—transforming from the harried, lonely, inwardly timid but outwardly self-assured servant into this more confident, calmer, sarcastic adventurer. And as much as he wanted to give her full credit for the change in his mood and behavior as of late, she knew it had everything to do with his hard work, perseverance, and the recognition and assistance of the others. This had all been his choice; she'd been so very careful to ensure that everything was his choice so he could become who _he_ wanted to be and not who he thought she wanted him to be. It _was_ amusing, however, to see how appalled he often was to discover just how irreverent he was beneath the façade he'd cultivated his entire life.

But watching him as he prepared the shells for baking and inwardly fretted over how he'd handled Noct's mysterious melancholia, she was reminded that people didn't simply change and never look back to their old habits. Even she experienced her own regressions still, after all these years. It seemed that not only was Noct's apathy beginning to make a reappearance, Ignis's self-doubt was beginning to show as a result, and she was at a loss for what to do for the both of them. She never could get Noct to talk as Ignis had always been able to, and they hadn't yet reached a point where he needed a good ass kicking.

'Wait and see' it was, then.

* * *

Ignis placed the finished tarts on the dining room table.

"I hope you're prepared for them to scarf those down the moment they appear, because that's exactly what's going to happen if you leave those there," she said as she pointed with a flour covered hand.

He frowned. "Good point," he said, placing them on the shelf above the kitchen sink.

"You always have to treat boys as though they're wild dogs. If you leave food out, they're going to inhale it as soon as they see it."

His frown deepened as she felt an undercurrent of disquiet at her description of someone so close to his own age as 'boy.' "I'm not that much older than Noct and Prompto are, you know, and I'm younger than Gladio."

She sent him a wave of reassurance as he took the enormous pot of rice off the heat and reached for a spoon to stir the soup. "I was speaking spiritually, not physically." _Your soul is as old as the world._

"Hmm," he replied noncommittally. _I'm not certain if that would be a positive or negative attribute._

 _You know my feelings on the matter. The four of you are all extraordinary men, but your soul, that mind and heart combined, is what drew me to you. Even your accent, if I understand the sociophonetic rules of your society, reflects your age beyond your years._

 _My elocution mostly stems from my education, but ultimately, it was a personal choice to take the accent of the older generations. I find I prefer the sound of it. Its formality suits me._

 _My point, dearest._

He had moved back to his butcher station next to the sink, where all varieties of meat were in various stages of being cut into fingers, cubes, steaks, and chops. "I believe the rice should be ready by now. Would you mind packing it for me?"

"One step ahead of you," she replied as she spooned another heap of rice into a bowl. Once she had the entire pot packed into bowls that would serve the five of them, she dismissed them into her Pocket. "Opening the oven," she warned before pulling out four trays of roasted vegetables.

"Wow, we having all of Lucis over for dinner?" Noct asked, coming downstairs.

Ignis studied him for a moment with narrowed eyes, assessing what sort of mood the Prince might be in and how to best handle it. Laura could practically feel him bite back the sarcastic remark he wanted to make in favor of, "No, Highness, merely replenishing our store of premade meals."

"Cool," he said disinterestedly as he approached the kitchen, leaning over the counter to eye the tarts Ignis had placed over the sink.

"We'll be eating soon," Ignis said gently. "When Gladio and Iris return, and the others come down from the lighthouse."

"How's the cleaning going up there?" she asked, packing up the roasted vegetables and hoping that he wasn't going to answer how she thought he was going to answer.

"I'm gonna . . . take care of it later."

Ignis sighed in disappointment. She despised the sound of his sighing, especially now that they were bonded and could clearly feel the exasperation and resignation emanating from him.

"Which means I'll have to take care of it myself this evening."

Noct gave a one-shouldered shrug, and that was the moment when Laura had to step in—the haze of anger nearly clouding her vision demanded it at that point. This relationship was sacred to her husband, she knew—the foundation of his very life. Noct would always come first and she understood that, but she would be damned if she was going to let Noct take advantage of his selfless heart—because she had sworn when he was nine years old to protect Ignis—from saphyrtails and Princes alike, if necessary. And it wasn't just Ignis that suffered from this cycle of enabling. Noct was in danger from this behavior as well, even if it was only a minor step in that direction, and her _other_ oath, the one to Regis, was in jeopardy.

She dropped the spoon on the counter and turned to Ignis. "You'll do no such thing!" Before Ignis could even throw a mental reaction at her outburst, she rounded on Noct, whose eyes went wide. She narrowed her own at him in return, leaning into his face before saying in a low, threatening tone, "Do you remember the promise you made me that day? Have you even asked Gladio about his books yet? Do you remember how I told you that I would hold you to your word?"

Noct's mouth dropped open, and she could tell that he wanted to argue, if only to cover for the embarrassment for being called out in front of Ignis, and now Gladio, Iris, and Talcott, who had just walked through the front door without noticing just what they'd interrupted, pushing aside the tension in the room with raucous chatter about a seabird that had pooped on Gladio's shoulder. Noct's attention shifted to just above her shoulder, likely to where Ignis stood behind her, glaring daggers at her back.

Remorse. Heartbreak. Anguish. Laura may not have had access to his mind to see what he was thinking, but that image of Ignis's back, defiled by violence because of Noct's existence, might as well have been a shout in the room. Or perhaps it was that image of him standing in front of the camp stove, stock still with his jaw clenched, standing so very bravely for the punishment he felt he deserved. If the stillness of Ignis's mind at this very moment were any indication, his current posture was likely similar to that soul killing moment, save for the glare.

"Yeah," Noct nearly whispered, and without another word, he turned and went back up the stairs, his steps clipped and his stare wide and blank.

Laura closed her eyes for a moment, not quite ready to face whatever emotion she'd just evoked in Ignis—particularly since she had every intention of standing her ground and defending what she'd done. They all might have been doing better to ease the number of tasks he had to do each day, but this blatant disrespect for him as a person, no matter how much Noct was suffering, was unacceptable. Ignis had been upset after Ravatogh for the very same reasons Noct had been, but being used by fate had manifested as the increased desire to serve, the increased desire to take care, and he was just as vulnerable as Noct at the moment.

Noct was likely too socially unaware to realize, but his behavior was causing Ignis even more anxiety, entrenching him once again into that cycle of fretting and submissiveness that she'd worked so hard to release him from. He'd give all of himself until there was nothing left, until he was so exhausted that it killed him out here in the wild, and for what? As much as she would be heartbroken, he could sacrifice himself for Noct if necessary to ensure he made it to the end of this, but not for something as frivolous as his temporary and mercurial happiness—if it could even be considered happiness to allow Noct to wallow like this. Did Ignis still have so little self-worth that he saw that as an acceptable price to pay?

"Uh, everything okay?" Gladio asked.

He, Iris, and Talcott were standing near the closest end of the dining room table, staring in shock around the kitchen cabinets at them. Judging by the way Iris's eyes kept flickering between the landing upstairs and Laura, they had likely all noticed Noct's heavy footsteps and blank expression as he'd left.

"Yeah, babe, everything's fine," she said with a gentle smile, but Gladio's eyes snapped behind her, much as Noct had done. She wondered just how threatening Ignis looked back there, given the expressions on everyone's faces.

"Hey, Talcott," Iris said, looking down at him. "Why don't you show us those new cactuars Noct brought you? I want to see them with your whole collection."

"Really?" Talcott asked, his expression brightening. "They're in my room."

Gladio squinted at Laura and Ignis before saying, "Yeah, that's a good idea. Let's go, squirt."

They had closed the door to the hall behind them before Ignis spoke aloud, and it was only then that she realized he hadn't merely gone still, he'd cut her off from their bond.

"Would you care to tell me what that was about?" he asked softly, carefully.

Laura sighed. "I have very little patience for anyone who takes advantage of someone with a better work ethic, especially considering at what cost you received yours. He's a twenty-year-old man; he can't keep using you to escape his responsibilities."

She knew that he understood the deeper meaning in her words, just as well as she knew that he would take Noct's place in the prophecy if he could. But he couldn't, just as she couldn't, and they all needed to be prepared for that, even if she wasn't certain if any of them knew how this ended.

He remained motionless, likely still staring at her back. "It's my responsibility to—"

"—to be his chamberlain, not his chambermaid."

"It seems I was wrong," he remarked coldly. "You don't understand my duties to the Crown. I would have thought you, of all people, would understand that I cannot ever choose you over him."

She rounded on him then, finally taking in his hard emerald eyes, his tight jaw, his clenched fists. But he had stirred her ire as well, and she glared up at him with her own threatening expression.

"Don't you dare accuse me of not understanding what must be done after the Glacial Grotto, after Ravatogh. I'm not asking you not to protect him. I'm not even asking you to stop mothering him because I know it's how you express that bond you share." She nodded to the tarts, still sitting on the counter. "I'm asking _him_ to think about someone else for a change, to remember that as a king and as a savior to this world, he needs to develop a keener sense of empathy. He needs to _feel_ , Ignis, and he needs to face his responsibilities."

"And that somehow involves the relinquishment of my responsibilities?" he asked, raising his chin and looking down at her from that lofty perch of superiority. She'd be proud of him if she weren't so angry.

"You're not safe at home anymore; you need to let each other go just enough to learn who you are without one another. Caring about you enough to pick up after himself is a small step, but an important one."

"I promised the King as a child I would always take care of him."

"And I promised the King as an adult that I would prepare him for fulfilling this prophecy. Your enabling him to forget his responsibilities and wallow in self-pity is holding him back. While your vow may be older, the consequences of failing mine are far more devastating. Surely you must see the logic in that."

When he remained silent at her words, she knew that she was gaining ground on him by appealing to his more dominant calculating side, but she took no pleasure in the victory. This was hurting him—hurting both him and Noct, and whether for the greater good or not, she would always despise causing them pain. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

"I know these prophecies so well, Ignis," she said softly. "and I've already told you they don't come down to how good he is with a sword. They'll come down to his heart and will, and he needs to feel for something other than his own plight in order to do that—to take charge, to take responsibility, to love his people enough to face his destiny head-on. And no matter how much you love him, you can't do it for him."

He straightened so he was even taller than before, looking down at her with those cold green eyes and that haughty expression she hadn't seen in weeks, had never seen on him to this degree, and she prepared herself for whatever lance she knew he was readying behind that expression.

His tone was calm and melodious as he responded, which he must have known would only serve to deliver the blow to her hearts more effectively. "And why should we listen to a word you have to say? You killed your people, even your own bond partner, did you not?"

And there it was. She couldn't help but gasp as the pain flooded her chest, sharpened all the more by the fact that he had been the source of it. The stabbing intensity pierced through her until she felt the tears pooling in her eyes, and she looked up at the ceiling, refusing to let them fall in front of him. Deep down, she knew he was lashing out at her threatening everything he was—everything he'd endured to become who he was to Noctis. But he shouldn't have had the ability to affect her like this; she was old enough to have a better handle on her own emotions than this, surely. She needed to get out of there before they both broke something.

"Rose," he gasped, opening their connection, but she couldn't look at him.

She felt a split second of horror and remorse before slamming the wall up on her own side. That instinct to lash out was there, building inside her, but she'd _never_ use it against him. So it sat, disconnected from her agency and only serving to deepen the wound he'd just created. He knew her well enough to know exactly which artery to slice open to cause the most effective damage, just as he did in a hunt, and the shock that he would ever be purposefully cruel enough to use his knowledge of her, on her, was still making her feel breathless and shaky.

"Rose, please," he implored, holding out his hands in gentle supplication, and she looked directly into his face for the first time since he'd spoken his abominable utterance. He'd gone white, his chiseled features softening once more into the man she knew, her bondmate. "Please, please forgive me. I can't . . . I can't believe I said that. Rose."

He took a step forward, his hands raised to pull her to him, but she threw a hand up to stop him. Of course, she'd already forgiven him and always would, but she was still a blade right now and would cut him for certain if he tried to hold her. It was time to leave—find a quiet place somewhere to simmer down for a bit before coming back to finish this calmly.

But his reaction to her hand pulled her out of her haze. He froze suddenly, his hands dropping stiffly to his sides. His lips twitched a little before he bowed his head in submission and contrition, and by the light of the fucking stars, she could have sworn she saw the words 'Your Majesty' in the shape of them before she lost sight of his expression.

No.

"Ignis," she entreated softly, sheathing her own pain, stepping up against him, and looking up at him, but his eyes were closed and his expression still tense. Reaching up, she cupped his face with a hand and ran her thumb soothingly along his high cheekbone, and he leaned into her touch, nuzzling her hand a little as his brow furrowed in sorrow.

"Please, forgive me. I . . . seem to have forgotten to whom I was speaking," he murmured, his eyes still closed.

 _I certainly hope you mean your wife, because that's the only person I'll ever be to you. Equals, Ignis—always._

 _Rose,_ he moaned before leaning down to bury his face in her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her.

Laura slid her hand around to the back of his neck, toying with the soft feathering of his hair. _We're not always going to agree, love, and that's all right._

 _That's no excuse for my appalling behavior._

 _Well, I won't lie and say that I appreciated your words, but I did attack the very foundation of what makes you who you are. Understandable that you should aim for an enemy's jugular in such a case, so I'd say I deserved it._

 _You are_ _ **not**_ _my enemy,_ he said, pulling back enough to gaze down at her, his face still twisted in remorse. _I'm so sorry. Please tell me I haven't broken anything._

"Hey guys!" Prompto called out as the front door opened, and Laura could feel the minds of Dustin, Monica, and even Cid enter the house with him. She really needed to learn to pay more attention to their surroundings in situations like this. "Managed to get everyone up here for dinner!"

She stepped back from Ignis, turning back to the counter to finish scoring and dusting the loaves before the others came around the kitchen island to see them. Noct, who had heard the commotion from upstairs, placed a hand on the railing and looked down at her with a single, solemn nod.

 _Never,_ she replied, nodding back up at Noct.

Working together, they got the table set and everyone seated: Cid, Dustin, Monica, Talcott, Iris, Prompto, Gladio, Noct, and the two of them. To their surprise, even Cor had showed up to see them off, so they laid an extra place setting at the table for him as he sat down. Ignis had, of course, gone all out—making karlabos cream croquettes, fisherman's favorite paella, and a fresh summer tomato salad for the enormous group. Ignis and Laura remained mostly silent during dinner, allowing the conversation to flow around them, participating when asked a direct question, and finding solace in the comforting embrace of their family and each other's minds after their stressful encounter. It wasn't long, however, before the topic turned to war.

"Damn Nifs are on the move agin. Dunno wut they're up to, but it ain't nothin' good," Cid grumbled before shoveling the last bite of paella into his mouth and pushing his plate away.

"They've been leaving Insomnia in shifts, headed for Galdin for days now," Cor said, leaning back into his chair. "Now they've gotten what they wanted, they have no reason to stay and help the people. It's been all the Glaive and Guard can do to keep everyone from panicking and the daemons to a minimum at night."

Prompto grimaced. "Yeah, I guess all the areas where the light's not restored yet, the city's not really made for protecting people."

"Are there . . . many people left in the city?" Noct asked quietly.

"Many fled in the initial attack," Monica said. "Otherwise an area of that size and population would be unmanageable."

"So you heading up the Glaive and Guard now?" Gladio asked Cor.

Cor nodded. "Until you get back. There's still a tomb to visit and blessings to receive on the other continents."

"Oh hey, speaking of tombs," Prompto said, turning to Talcott. "You ever read anythin' about a place called Pitioss in your grandpa's diary?"

Talcott furrowed his brow and shook his head. "I've read it a hundred times, but I don't remember seeing anything about Pitioss. I'll look again later. Sorry."

"Nah, it's all right, buddy. Just thought we'd check. Seems the sorta thing he'd know about."

"Ain't never hearda sucha place," Cid said, and Cor, Dustin, and Monica nodded in agreement. "Reggie never wint there, anyway."

"Now is not the time for distractions," Cor said sternly.

Laura had a feeling that Pitioss was far more than a mere distraction, given all they'd learned so far. It seemed to be tied into everything they did; even the message itself had come indirectly from their gods. As much as she hated to pull rank on someone in their own world, this was too important to ignore.

"Our mission is different from that of Regis's," she reminded him, using the King's first name as she had back in Insomnia to subtly point out that though he didn't know who or what she was, Regis's permission to address him in such a familiar manner implied that she was more than what she seemed. "Please alert all your contacts that we're searching for it."

Cor bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Yes, My Lady."

 _You should tell them your title, at the very least. The Marshal would not be pleased to know he was addressing you incorrectly,_ Ignis said, surreptitiously placing a hand on her knee under the table.

 _You mean as he does for you? As he did for Clarus? Gladio? Honestly, he could address me by the title 'asshole' and I wouldn't care as long as he did as I asked._

Choosing to ignore the vulgarity of her statement, he said, _I don't recall ever discussing my title with you._

Laura stood and started collecting the plates around her. "Everyone stay seated; Ignis made dessert as well."

As he stood to help her clear the table, she said, _Yes, and don't think I haven't noticed that. Even Monica called you 'Mr. Scientia' the last time we were here. But I realized the other day as you were surveying your domain outside Costlemark that of course you and Gladio would be titled._

 _Mine is not inherited, as his is. The Duke of Myrl is an old and powerful title indeed. No, I requested mine be kept quiet until Noct's ascension,_ he said in a clipped tone, and Laura immediately backed off, sensing a sore spot.

 _Apologies,_ he said gently as he put the dishes in the sink and took a stack of plates out from the cabinet. He paused for a moment to catch her eyes with his gaze. _I prefer not to discuss it with most people, but then again, you aren't most people, are you?_

 _Tonight? I'll tell you about Miriásia. Perhaps then you'll understand my own relationship with Noct better. You tell me about your title—if you like._ He sighed, and she found she hated that sound even more when she was the source of it. _You don't have to, you know. I'll tell you about Miriásia regardless._

 _You're my wife. You deserve to know. Only it seems tonight's theme will be reminiscing, and not the pleasant kind._

 _We can't always be flowers and rainbows—as much as we wish for it to be otherwise. But as eager as I am to know you, you shouldn't feel obligated._

Laura went around the table, handing each person a plate as Ignis came around behind and had them take a tart from the serving tray. He placed a tart on his and Laura's plates before taking his seat next to Noct, looking over at him in anticipation.

"They smell familiar . . .," Noct said quietly as he picked the tart up and inspected it, and Ignis's face seemed glow with hope.

"I'm goin' in for a bite now. Look out, stomach!" Prompto cheered before leaning in to take an enormous bite, covering his top lip in powdered sugar.

Laura leaned in to take a bite of the little pastry, savoring the way the ratio of chewy crust to tart berry to sweet custard was balanced perfectly so as to harmonize the three flavors.

 _I don't know if you've done what you've set out to do for Noct, but these are absolutely lovely. They remind me of berry cheesecake crossed with pie crossed with tiramisu. Yet that Ulwaat adds such a beautiful floral note._

"Damn fine job ya did here, son," Cid said with a nod, and the others murmured their agreement.

Ignis ducked his head. "They could likely do with some improvement, but you have my gratitude, nevertheless."

 _I believe we had better in Paris,_ he said, casting his attention to the side to watch Noct, who was still chewing on his first bite in silence with his eyes closed.

 _Rubbish. You could easily be a pastry chef at any fine-dining establishment on Eos, and you know it._

"Better than I remember," Noct whispered, and Laura's hearts flooded with tenderness at the way Ignis seemed to have gone nearly breathless with the compliment. When Noct opened his eyes, they were bright and almost idolizing. "Thanks, Iggy."

Ignis swallowed and inclined his head. "The pleasure is mine, Highness."

Noct lowered his voice so he wouldn't be noticed over the sound of the others talking. "No, really. Everything you do for us. It . . . it means a lot . . . you know, to me."

Ignis sat for a moment, his mind still with awe. Love and duty: sometimes they could be irrevocably entwined to the point where the two became so inseparable that one couldn't tell which action was being taken for which reason. Sometimes, however, it was only too easy.

"You are most welcome, Noct—always."

Noct took another bite and chuckled, reaching out to punch Ignis's shoulder. "Guess that means you're off the hook now for making these," he said after he'd swallowed.

"Aww, really?" Prompto complained. "I've kinda liked getting these."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that," Ignis said airily. "There's some tweaking that could be done; the sweetener, the custard, even the crust could use some attention."

"Yeah?" Noct asked, a crooked grin lighting up his expression.

"Most certainly."

* * *

"Oh, my word," he said in awe. "It's _beautiful._ "

"If you don't mind, I don't think I could bear to show you the battles. I thought perhaps you'd like to see the city though, as I tell you."

He looked down at her words, frowning. "Are you all right to be here?"

She shrugged. "More or less. I've been back since it happened."

There was no way in hell she could show him the details of what had happened—the ruthlessness, the blood, the diseased corpses left to rot where they'd fallen, like puppets with cut strings. It was difficult enough as it was, standing here on the main thoroughfare in Lliaméra. As Ignis looked back up, his eyes widening and his neck craning to see the forest canopy over a thousand feet above his head, Laura tried to see it as he did, as she had when she'd first arrived—so very heartbroken and damaged after James's death.

But this was where she'd spent her last few days in that universe as the last of her people succumbed to the disease, rushing back and forth as she desperately tried to make each of them as comfortable as possible before their inevitable passing. She tried not to remember the expression on their faces as the hemorrhagic fever set in, as they glared at her in pain, despair, hatred, disappointment. The freak of nature they had entrusted their lives to for hundreds of years had let them down even more thoroughly than they'd expected her to.

Until there was no one left but the Arkhein trees and Eilendil. And then only the Arkhein.

She didn't populate the city with her dead subjects walking the streets as she would often do with tourists when they traveled to other planets; it would have been too macabre for her to handle. But, for Ignis, she filled the air with the songs of art, music, and growing they used to sing as they wove their power into paintings, metalwork, food, and trees alike.

Ignis leaned in toward her ear, his eyes still roaming over the towering coniferous trees, so much larger than any tree she'd ever seen in Lucis; the filtered green light; the plummeting gorges with living bridges of intricately woven tree branches; and the little huts and grand mansions sung into shape directly from the living trunks. His voice was soft and reverent, as though he were in a sacred cathedral, when he spoke.

"As you know, I spent my entire life in Insomnia until we left. I used to sit in the garden at the Citadel and dream of seeing a real forest. We'd all been trapped behind that wall for so long, increasing in population, that there wasn't much space to breathe among the cars and concrete. I was beginning to feel as though I were suffocating under that dome." He shook his head. "This? It couldn't be more distinct from where I spent my life. It's breathtaking, Rose."

Running her fingers down his forearm and taking his hand, she said, "Come with me."

She led him to the deep canyon running through the middle of the packed dirt road, which was bridged by a stone arch decorated with polished rails of living wood. He paused for a moment when a patched kitlear approached him, tilting his head for a moment at the little calico antlered cat-like creature before gazing at her questioningly.

"Go ahead and pet her," she said, nodding to the kitlear, and he reached down to scratch her on the chin, smiling softly when the animal closed her eyes and let out an almost slappy-sounding purr.

Laura stepped away from Ignis and the kitlear, stopping at the edge of the ravine and staring down at the rushing pearl and sapphire water below.

"I was named Chosen Queen by the Seer the day I was born, the one destined to destroy the King of the human population on our planet. He had stolen his power from the hearts of dead dragons and was slowly killing off every other species on the planet.

"My parents bonded me with Eilendil, then used him to activate my power to send me to another universe until I was strong enough to stay safe when I came back."

Ignis straightened and stepped up next to her, also looking down at the river. "Your power to jump universes doesn't come from the TARDIS?"

Even though it wasn't winter in this vision of Lliaméra she'd created, she populated the river with fur-trout, their shaggy coats flashing silver and blue in the dimming green light as they leapt out of the water and landed on their sides with slapping splashes.

"No. Even she cannot jump universes unless something goes very, very wrong. She did it once and almost died.

"When I returned, my father had already been killed in the war, and my mother . . . didn't care for my upbringing. She wiped my mind of all my human memories and swore Eilendil to silence, as she had convinced him it was for the best."

 _To my everlasting shame,_ the forest echoed with Eilendil's voice, and Ignis raised his head to the canopy to find its source.

"So she killed Rose to make room for Laurelín," he said after a pause, shaking his head. "I can't imagine a mother betraying her own child in such a manner."

Taking his hand again, she strolled over the bridge with him, leading him past the open pavilions growing directly out of the tree bases, with their forges blazing hot and white after Riagrian would prepare the smithery in the morning for her master.

"In a way, I can understand why she did what she did. She was desperate to save her people. Still, I don't care for what she turned me into. It must be an immortal thing, the need to be cold and indifferent at all times; it certainly was for my people. Naralín hated my more sociable habits: talking to strangers, wanting to learn about people, speaking openly and directly."

Reaching the city proper right as the sun, somewhere outside the trees, was setting, turning the light from green to blue, she stopped and gave him some time to stare in wonder.

"Which one is yours?" he whispered, his gaze traveling from the spiraling staircases to the multi-tiered, open dwellings above, with their root-like buttresses bright and curling in the ethereal light the Arkhein trees gave off. She turned on the city lights then—the magically-lit orbs that glowed silver-blue in the windows and the bridges that connected the different levels between the trees, and he gasped at the transformation. _Paradise,_ she heard him think to himself.

"Therinal lives outside the city. I'll take you there one day, but not today."

"Therinal?" he asked, his brow furrowing as he turned his head back down toward her, his eyes seeming to glow forest-green in the indirect light.

"My tree—my third low bond? He's sentient."

"And he survived?"

Laura's gaze wandered over every Arkhein tree surrounding them, feeling the echoes of their minds stirring in her memory. "They all did—the only sentient species left."

Ignis let out a breath through his nose slowly, his expression tightening in sorrow. "Forgive me. The wonder of this place is distracting me from all you're trying to tell me. Please, you were speaking of your mother."

She ducked her head, poking a bare foot out from underneath her spring-green skirt to skim her toes over the soft moss growing on the side of the path. "That was kind of the point—to soften the horror a bit . . . for you and for me."

She nodded to the space behind him, where a copper-coated doe reached out to nuzzle his hand with a wet nose. He turned, his expression melting at the affectionate creature, and ran a gentle hand over her gleaming coat before nodding at her to continue.

"The war escalated as news of my return reached the King's attention, and more and more humans were seeking refuge in our borders. My mother abdicated the throne and sent Eilendil and me to the front lines."

Closing her eyes, her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "You've only ever seen me tempered by Rose and limited by the Crystal and my oath to Regis, except perhaps when I killed that infected man. With my mind wiped, I was the cold, ruthless Lliamérian soldier my mother wanted me to be. It's still no excuse; it wasn't as though my choices weren't my own."

"Rose," he whispered, and she felt his hands wrap around her shoulders before he pulled her close.

"I can be so dangerous, Ignis. I _still_ can be, even if less so than I was here on Miriásia. We engaged in telepathic warfare on both sides—entire armies clashing with swords and cannons and trebuchets—all their minds protected by multiple telepaths from the other side. My specialty was breaking into the minds of their telepaths and . . ."

Oh gods, how would he ever look at her the same way when she spoke these next words? He might have easily accepted the euthanasia of one man, but this? He squeezed her in reassurance, bringing a hand up to the back of her neck beneath her hair and pressing his lips to her forehead.

". . . and slaying entire battalions of apaths with a single thought," she finished with a violent shudder.

She felt his body expand at his sharp inhalation and his mind flood with shock—perhaps with the slightest tinge of horror, but he only pulled her more tightly to him, pressing her so that her lips were at his collarbone.

"You can do what you did to that man to hundreds simultaneously?"

"Physically speaking, on another world, yes. Emotionally, no, not anymore—not in my right mind. But I have. Gods, Ignis, I have. Their 'Chosen Queen' was more powerful than the rest of them, and I could sweep away hundreds of men and women, likely forced to fight in a war they didn't understand, just by thinking. Really turned the battle in our favor," she chuckled bitterly.

"And you wouldn't be able to commit such a feat even to slay daemons?"

"No, and frankly I'm glad I can't, so I don't even have that temptation. I can't connect with their minds to kill them. With that man, if his daemonization had been much further along, I couldn't have killed him that way. It wouldn't have even taken me that long to kill him had he been completely human."

He sent her an image of Noct standing before the entirety of the Niflheim army with nothing but his sword, imagining them all falling to their feet before the King, struck down by an invisible blow.

"I think there are some situations in which I could see myself doing such a thing," he said quietly to the top of her head.

"You're being too kind to me. Do you remember what I told you about power?"

"It always comes at a cost."

"Yes. And using it like that . . . for those purposes . . . I became the god you all accuse me of being, looking down on the mortals I fought against and protected as lesser beings to use as I saw fit—even my own people, immortal, but less powerful . . .. Oh, gods, I can't even think back on it. And that persona, Ignis—she's still there, deep down. She always will be."

Those godsdamn tears that had been building behind her eyelids finally fell to his chest as she gripped him desperately, begging him not to be repulsed by everything she was telling him. And though he was repulsed by her actions, she saw clearly in his mind that he wasn't disgusted by her. Rather, he was enraged on her behalf for what Naralín had done to her, even with Eilendil for going along with it. And though she didn't feel he was properly taking into account her own agency in this fucked up situation, she'd still take it because she couldn't bear the thought of losing his esteem, his love.

"And you, as you are now, never will," he said firmly. "Remember that I knew the broad strokes of your past before I told you that I loved you—words I never say lightly."

She pulled back from him, wiping furiously at her cheeks. "Thank you, love. And try not to hold it against Eilendil. He thought he was doing what was best for me at the time—I was still so lost after James. That betrayal, and mine of him, was forgiven so long ago. He was the one who convinced my mother to give me back my memories before they both died of the plague."

Ignis closed his eyes briefly as he asked, "Dare I even inquire as to how the plague fits into this?" He opened them to gaze at her earnestly. "We can stop right here if you wish and never utter another word of this."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "If there is a single soul in this entire multiverse that should know everything about me besides Eilendil, it's you. Can we sit though?"

She gestured to a low bench sitting at the edge of the park in the main square, next to fountain of Urunalien the Green, one of the first recorded members of Eilendil's race. Ignis led her to the bench, but his eyes didn't leave the statue of the dragon—its head thrown back as it spit fiery glowing droplets of water into the rocky reservoir below.

As she cuddled into Ignis's side, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, Eilendil appeared in the empty spot on the bench next to her, no larger than he'd been just after hatching. He looked up at her, his silver glowing eyes so very luminous and mournful, before curling up in her lap. She settled a hand on his back before speaking.

"We were so close to the King—right outside his palace—when he attacked us with hordes of animated corpses I'd killed in previous battles. I left Eilendil behind to end it once and for all. With a magic user, you have to dominate their mind completely before you move in to kill, otherwise they can use their life's energy to do something extreme in an act of desperation. I thought I had, but there must have been something left of his free will. He used his life force to send out the pestilence in the split second before I ended him."

Eilendil raised his head. _It was not your fault. I believed you had him as well._

"I didn't die, of course. The TARDIS and Time Lord DNA protected me from the blight. I came back here and did my best to keep everyone comfortable as they succumbed. Eilendil and my mother were some of the last. She died cursing my name, and he died with his head in my lap. To this day, I have never known greater sorrow."

On rare occasions, she wished she could have died right there with him.

Not hearing her errant thought, Eilendil reached up to press his snout to her nose, and she ran her hands along his muzzle to the back of his jaw, pulling his head to her and kissing him gently on his forehead.

 _Thank you for coming, dearest._

 _It is our burden to bear together._ He turned his head a little to give Ignis a side-eyed glare. _I can only hope the human you have chosen is worthy of this pain._

 _He's still here, isn't he?_

 _And that speaks to something of his character. Time will tell,_ he growled, and with that final thought, he disappeared.

"How flattering," Ignis remarked, gazing down at her now empty lap.

"He's not quite as curmudgeonly as he comes off. From him, that was a compliment."

"Hmm," he replied before gazing up at the city again as though memorizing its features. "I'll never be able to create a scene such as this for my own confession, human as I am. Unfortunately, the place I had in mind is one you've never visited."

"Project it here, and I can fill in the rest."

He closed his eyes, and brushstrokes of greens, browns, and golds surrounded them, with red, purple, orange, and white stippling of wildflowers and little rocks in the grass beneath the trees. Walkways of brown rock crisscrossed the area, creating geometric spaces of green throughout the garden and around the grey stone gazebo and fountain.

Again, she was incredulous at the amount of detail he was able to produce for his species. That she could even recognize what she was looking at shouldn't have been possible, and even with his previously-set level of skill, he had vastly improved to create such a large, detailed space. Before he could open his eyes and be disappointed, however, she saw the image in his mind, extrapolated on it, and made it sharp and clear, adding scents and sounds she remembered from her time at the Citadel and her memories of the various plants she'd seen around Lucis. There were a few details, such as some plants she had never seen or the detailing on the fountain, that she had to fill in completely and likely wasn't accurate to reality, but if he didn't remember them himself, he was unlikely to notice.

"Remarkable," he breathed as he opened his eyes and looked down at her, holding out his hand. "Thank you. Please, won't you come and sit with me?"

She took his hand, smiling softly. "You know I'd follow you anywhere."

He grinned before leading her to one of the islands, carefully stepping over a bed of flowers and sitting down at the base of what looked like a large oak tree—next to the little red maple he'd made for her on his first attempt—folding his legs underneath him and patting the grass in front of him. As she sat, he pulled her head down into his lap and began stroking her hair, gently pulling at the strands with soft fingertips until it spread over his thighs and trailed on the ground around him in a dark halo. He didn't begin speaking until she sighed in contentment.

"You've bared so much of your soul to me since we've bonded—beautiful things, horrible things, absurd, and despairing. And yet I've done very little to return the favor for all you've given me."

"I don't want you to think it's supposed to be an exchan—"

"Please, let me talk. I don't have as much to share, and what little I've experienced in my short time without you is fairly routine and uninteresting. However, I should like to give you what little I have, poor repayment though it is."

"You know I would never think that. Every piece of you is a treasure to me."

He leaned back into the tree trunk, continuing to run his fingers through her hair. "I was born into a family of lower nobility, which doesn't carry much weight among many here in the royal court. When the population is as isolated as it was in Insomnia, everyone becomes nobility or related to nobility at some point. Essentially, we were little more than commoners, but as a family of royal retainers, we still commanded some small amount of respect.

"My uncle recommended me for the position as the Prince's future Hand, and after several meetings with His Majesty, I was approved and sent to schooling before I ever met Noct. My parents, while I'm told were heartbroken to send me away, were thrilled to put me in a position beyond that of any Scientia."

Sighing deeply, he continued, "It was announced when I turned six that I was to be given the title of Duke when I turned twenty, an unprecedented move for the King to bestow such a title on a family of Knights and Dames."

He closed his eyes, his fingers subtly tightening in her hair as his eyebrows twitched down. Laura sent him a wave of reassurance, reminding him that he didn't have to tell her anything he didn't wish to. This _wasn't_ an exchange in payment for what she'd told him.

"I don't believe the King ever fully realized the strain between the levels of nobility within the Citadel walls. Had he done so, I don't imagine he ever would have announced his intention to title me. Suddenly, life became . . . different for me."

He stopped speaking then, his eyes still closed and the furrow in his brow growing deeper as he frowned. Laura looked up, bringing a hand to his neck and stroking the soft skin there gently.

"I'd . . . rather not get into the details, but you saw the very worst of it. I don't want you believing my life was some considerable hardship." His eyes shot open as he looked down at her. "I suppose I have you to thank for that, don't I?"

"What I did doesn't diminish what you went through."

"Yes, well, while I obviously would have preferred it not to have happened, I was well prepared for our challenges out here in the wild as a result, and there's hardly any point in spending time attempting to wish the past away. And though I am still furious with you for risking your life to spare me, know that I am forever grateful."

"Ignis, please don't thank me. Not for that."

"I've found interactions to be more pleasant if I simply never mention my title, and the habit seems to have remained." His expression softened, his lips curling up into a crooked smile as he gazed down at her. "But I suppose . . . having married me, that would make you the Duchess of Kettier, which extends south to include the Fallgrove. Of course, our union will have to be blessed by the King before it can be made official, but see to it that it doesn't go to your head."

She snorted, shaking her head a little. "His Grace Ignis Scientia, Duke of Kettier. All this time spent having to convince you that you were more than good enough for me, that you are more than good enough for anything you want in this world. I don't know how things work in Lucis, but a duke is certainly qualified to marry a queen where I'm from."

"Even if the title isn't inherited?" he asked in surprise.

"There may have been _some_ scandal, but as long as I hadn't been the one to give you your title, yes, even then."

He leaned over her, taking her lower lip between his, caressing it gently before taking it between his teeth.

 _Rose._

 _Yes?_ she asked, reaching up to press the back of his head to her so she could have better access to his mouth.

 _I know we can't . . . be together here, between . . . making a mess and awaking the others back in Caem, but is there something we can do? I need . . .._

Conjuring a cushion to appear beneath them, she said, _Come lie down with me._

Reluctantly pulling out from underneath her head, he settled by her side with his head pressed into her chest, his legs entwining with hers, and his hands around her hips—pulling her as close as he could. When she had pulled a blanket over them, she felt his mind hesitate.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Would you mind if we . . . I miss touching your skin," he confessed.

She chuckled. "A blink of an eye. Would you care to try and do it yourself?"

She felt his eyelashes flutter against her neck before the softness of his skin and warmth of his body seeped into hers. Nuzzling at his hair, she breathed in that warm, masculine scent of his, grazing her lips over his forehead and her fingers across and down his broad shoulders. Gently nipping and licking at her collarbone, he ran his hands up and down her bare back. Finding solace in one another's arms and minds, they lay together in the quiet—until the dawn of their last morning in Lucis for gods only knew how long.


	43. Chapter 43

Gladio brushed the lock of hair that always seemed to fall into her eyes out of the way and pressed a long, lingering kiss to her forehead. They'd both been pretending this moment wasn't gonna come, but it was here now, and there was no more hiding from it. She wrapped her arms around as much of him as she could while she drowned in his embrace. He pulled back just enough to look down at her. While Gladio had inherited their mother's coloring, his face was all Clarus's, but Iris—she'd inherited Freesia's everything. Sometimes, he could almost see her looking out at him through Iris's eyes.

"Take care of yourself out there, Gladdy," she said softly, and he could hear the tears in her voice, even if he couldn't see them in her eyes.

Gods damnit, this was fucking hard.

He took one last moment to memorize her features. Who knew how long it would be before he saw her again? They'd all thought the trip to Altissia was gonna take a week or two, tops, and look where that had ended up. And now that they were finally headed there, it wasn't for anything as innocent as a wedding. Gladio wasn't really worried about Altissia, but the next stop was somehow infiltrating the Empire and getting the Crystal back. Iggy might've been a genius, but no way were they all getting out of this unscathed, no matter how much they planned.

He might not ever see her again. At least he'd done as much as he could to keep her and Talcott safe.

Gladio had never said it to her, and this might be his last chance.

"Love you," he mumbled, dropping his head to her hair because he was a fucking coward and couldn't look her in the eyes as he said it.

He felt her arms tighten around him for a second before she said in a choked voice, "I love you, too."

Well, he couldn't just stand there and hold her forever; he had to let her go sometime. Kissing her hair one last time and turning to Talcott, he leaned down and looked into that hopeful little face. This is what they were leaving for—the future—so the both of them could hope.

"You look after things while I'm gone, okay, squirt?" Gladio said, ruffling his hair.

Talcott looked up at him with the boyish grin that could only come from carefree youth. How did he do that? He'd lost just as much of the rest of them, and while Gladio still had hope, no fucking way was he ever gonna feel that young again. Best he could do was make sure they wouldn't have to take up arms like he had, and maybe they could hold on to some of that innocence.

"Yes, sir!"

Gladio gave him one last pat on the shoulder before pulling himself straight and taking a deep breath, looking up at the slatted boards of the ceiling. All right—he'd said his goodbyes; now it was time to put that shit aside and do his job. Taking the last set of stairs, he took his place right behind Noct, who was listening to Cid speak as he sat on the ratty couch that had probably been serving as his bed these past weeks.

Cid's weathered face seemed almost emotional as he gazed down at the photograph they'd seen just after the fall of Insomnia—the one of King Regis and his retinue on their own sojourn to the tombs.

"You cain't hide what's goin' on from 'em. It hurts like hell." Cid's voice trailed off in a grimace as he leaned forward to get a better view of the photo he'd no doubt memorized decades ago, then raised his head to Noct. "Remember, those ain't your bodyguards, they're your brothers. Trust in 'em, always."

Noct's eyes shot to Laura's before looking down at his boots and nodding. "I know," he said in a low voice.

Gladio figured Noct could always use the reminder. He never did learn what had happened yesterday between Noct, Iggy, and Laura, but given their general relationship dynamic and the way Noct had actually been helpful for a change making sure everything was done before they left, he figured Noct had only just gotten a good reminding yesterday. Laura might've looked to be in her twenties like the rest of them, but it was easy to forget she was a hundred times older than Cid—traveling right alongside them and giving out all those same nuggets of wisdom. Gladio wondered where Noct would be at this point without them. He wondered where _he_ would be without them; sparring with her so often had definitely left him more prepared to take on Gilgamesh.

The four of them were looking at Laura now, waiting for her to step in and say something about not being acknowledged, but she only shook her head, as Gladio knew she would. He never could understand why she was always so gracious every time someone referred to them as 'the boys' or something similar. Hell, he'd even done it once himself their first day out of Insomnia. But so much had changed; they were all so different, and just because she wasn't a Crown citizen didn't mean she wasn't family.

"An' if ya insist on takin' the boat yerselves, yer gonna need this entry permit to git in the city," Cid continued, leaning forward to hand a small slip of paper held between two fingers to Noct.

Iggy stepped forward to take the slip. "Pardon me, but that would best be left under my care."

Cid looked between Noct and Iggy, shaking his head with a tsk. "Gods help the future of Lucis if that's the truth. Always knew Reggie dun spoiled yeh." Nodding back down at the photo, he said, "Ya need to see Weskham when ya git there. Gotta diner or sum such—Magoo or sumthin'. He'll git ya sorted."

"We will, thanks," Noct said with a nod.

"And thank you for everything you've done, Cid," Laura said warmly. "We couldn't have done it without you and Cindy."

"Well, hell, little lady," Cid said, slapping a hand in the air toward her. "Only the fate of the whole damn world."

"Just be sure you come back in one piece," Cor said, a small smile curling up the corner of his lips. "I'd like a rematch."

"You got it," she grinned before turning back to the boat.

"Wait!" Prompto shouted, throwing a hand in the air. "Whaddya guys say? One picture with everybody?"

As Prompto set up the camera, Iris bounced over to Gladio's side, and Cor stood just behind him to look over his shoulder. In between flashes, Gladio glanced over at the other four: Noct with his hand on Talcott's shoulder, Prompto squatting down next to Noct, and Iggy and Laura standing close to Dustin. It was one of those gods damn sepia-toned moments they'd never get back, it felt like. Would they all make it back alive? In one piece? That kinda shit didn't matter when he had a job to do. Lock it away. If he'd learned anything from Gilgamesh, it was to accept what he felt, then brush it aside—'fear and doubt beget death alone.' He was a weapon, and weapons didn't have feelings, damnit.

Gladio didn't spare anyone another glance as they boarded the boat—no looking back. Leaning against the sidewall between the open back of the boat and the closed-in captain's console, he watched as Laura maneuvered them out of the slip and Noct stood up on the gunwale, looking down at whoever was left to watch them go.

"Hey! Your Majesty! Please come back soon. We need our king!" Gladio heard Talcott yell after him.

Yeah, wasn't that the truth?

Noct cupped his hands around his mouth to be heard over the sound of the boat engines picking up speed.

"Yeah. Count on it!" he promised, and when he lowered his hands, Gladio saw the light in his eyes and the grin on his face.

He'd never seen Noct actually smile when anyone referred to his future—in any sense. What was it about Talcott that seemed to inspire all of them?

"Open sea, here we come!" Prompto cheered, interrupting Gladio's thoughts. "It's . . . amazing!" He almost seemed to be holding himself back from exploding as he bounced on the balls of his feet, looking out to the horizon. "It's life changing!"

"We've quite a ways to go until we reach Altissia," Iggy said with a crooked smile, "so keep gushing to your heart's content." But then Iggy raised his chin to the wind, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were glittering with . . . something.

Gladio had seen that look in Iggy's eyes ever since he'd gotten back from Taelpar, and he couldn't for the life of him put his finger on what it was. Iggy and Laura in particular seemed to have gone through hell since Gladio had gotten back, but those moments in between the near-death experiences and whatever went on yesterday, when Iggy thought no one was watching him, Gladio would take the time to examine his expression. He'd been well-known for that judgmental asshole expression back home—the one where he'd cross his arms, lean into his hip, and frown at whatever poor unfortunate bastard had upset him for gods only knew what reason. Maybe it was because Gladio hadn't been around the guy for a while, but the difference had been striking when he got back. The judgmental asshole look had been replaced with a kinda faraway tenderness, complete with the occasional smile or chuckle.

Much as he wanted to, Gladio couldn't give all the credit to Laura for whatever was going on with him. It'd just happened too suddenly. Looking back, he wondered if it had had anything to do with the day before he'd left, when Iggy'd spaced out all the sudden. From what he'd heard from Noct and Prompto, he'd gotten worse those days following before suddenly recovering.

Maybe Iggy had gone through his own 'Blademaster trial' while Gladio had been away. He guessed they'd never know, since no one kept quiet like Iggy did.

Prompto spun on the spot to face them. "Aren't you guys excited? When we step off the boat, we'll be in a foreign country!"

"Yeah," Noct said thoughtfully. "First time ever. Didn't think of that."

"Wonder what it'll be like," Prompto said, his voice breathless with anticipation.

"You'll see for yourself. Foreign lands seldom lend themselves to trite explanations," Iggy said.

Noct looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. "And when have _you_ ever been to a foreign land?"

That tender little half-smile seemed to light up Iggy's face a little before he responded with, "Having been raised in the Crown City, one could consider all our travels thus far to be to foreign lands, could they not?"

"I dunno. All I heard is that it's different than Insomnia," Gladio said, but a chilly sense of déjà vu rushed through him as soon as the words had passed his lips. He was just being stupid though. Just because shit had hit the fan when they'd left Insomnia didn't mean the same was gonna happen to Lucis now that they'd left their home country behind. "And to think this is where we were headed to begin with."

"We've been through a lot," Noct said softly.

Prompto finally sat his happy ass down, but his eyes didn't stop darting over the swells and the mountains in the distance they were headed toward. "So Noct, you ready to _finally_ see Lady Lunafreya? Wait, she's not in danger there with the whole thing with the Empire and Leviathan, right?"

Noct's eyes widened, but it was Iggy who answered, "Her wellbeing is our top priority while we're in Altissia. I have no faith the Empire's ruthless ambitions will stop short of harming the Oracle to get the Ring."

"Right," Noct said, nodding emphatically. "The Ring is important, and so is Leviathan—but Luna comes first."

"You think she's got any combat training of her own?" Gladio asked.

Iggy tilted his chin in thought. "I imagine the Empire wouldn't want the Oracle able to defend herself; however, given her brother's station, it's likely she's received some private instruction."

"It wouldn't be enough to protect her from what's coming though, if Titan's any indication," Gladio said. "Anyone on their own would be in danger, which is why we gotta keep an eye on her."

"Indeed," Iggy agreed, but his eyes flickered to Gladio before continuing more casually, "Speaking of the first Tenebraean family, there's a disturbing rumor about: Lord Ravus has taken to brandishing His Majesty's sword."

"My dad's?" Noct gasped.

"And what's the big idea behind that?" Gladio growled, crossing his arms as he leaned more heavily into the sidewall behind him.

"That his power's the same as the Power of Kings?" Prompto asked hesitantly, as though afraid to voice the thought out loud.

"I cannot say for sure, but I have my doubts. Ravus wears the sword, yet does not wield it," Ignis replied.

After everything they'd been through with that bastard, Gladio couldn't understand why Iggy was so neutral about him. He'd held a sword to Gladio's throat . . . among other things. He was just another pawn of that creepy ass Chancellor. Gladio had noticed after the incident that Laura had been kinda neutral about him too, and he wondered if Iggy's opinion was based off hers. It didn't matter though; Gladio's mind was made up.

"For all his newfound powers, he's still the Chancellor's lapdog, holding on to the enemy king's sword like some badge of honor."

It was his job to make sure scumbags like that got what was coming to them. He didn't care what kind of superhuman strength Ravus had, Gladio was gonna make the little fucker pay for even thinking about wearing King Regis's sword.

They cruised for a while until Prompto requested they swing near Angelgard to take some photos, but Laura couldn't take them as close as he would've liked. Iggy had already advised them not to draw near because the place was considered sacred ground, but when Laura started feeling a high concentration of the power of Eos and started talking about a 'Mount Olympus,' they hastily got their shots in and got the hell out of there, heading once again toward Altissia.

Leaning back on his elbows into the seat, Prompto complained, "Are we there yet?"

"Thought you said you always wanted to go sailing. Last time I checked, it was 'amazing' and 'life changing,'" Gladio teased with a snort.

"Yeah, but all this ocean kinda gets bland after a while."

He secretly agreed. This trip was getting kinda long, and it wasn't like in the car, where the scenery changed. Gladio loved nature—had spent a lot of time finding himself in the different regions of Lucis. That first day out in Leide, for the first time in his life, Gladio learned what the quiet really was. Sure, the house was always peaceful, and there were plenty of spaces in the Citadel to contemplate shit. But the desert had been different. There was no hum of electricity or wails of ambulance sirens—just the blowing wind over his ears. He'd made it a point to spend at least ten minutes every day around his sparring practice to just sit and listen to nothing. And the view—there was absolutely nothing like it back in Insomnia.

But out here on the ocean, once he'd gotten over just how large it was and how much water was running underneath the boat, Gladio did notice that it got kinda dull after a while. It took a long ass time for the view to change, and it hadn't seemed to change much these past few hours.

"Honestly, you guys are missing out on the best parts of the ocean," Laura called back to them.

"Really? Enlighten us. As you know, none of us has ever been on the ocean before," Iggy replied.

The roar of the engine dropped suddenly in pitch and volume as Laura slowed the boat to idling speed, and after a couple more seconds, she cut the engine off.

"Hey, Princess, would you mind throwing the anchor?" she asked Gladio as she turned back to them.

He hopped over the sidewall up onto the gunwale, heading up to the bow where the anchor was stowed. "You got it."

When he returned, Noct and Prompto were turned in the rear seat, and Iggy was leaning back heavily against the sidewall, his legs crossed. Gladio followed their gazes to where Laura sat cross legged on the platform at the stern of the boat.

"Well?" Noct asked, breaking the silence.

"Shh!" she replied, pressing a finger to her lips, and Gladio hadn't known it was possible until that moment to shush someone so loudly before.

It was when she and Iggy shared a look that he really started noticing her expression. She looked _so_ godsdamned _alive_. Even though they'd spent almost ten weeks out in the blazing sun, her skin was still the creamiest white, but either the heat or the excitement had brought a flush to her cheeks. Her eyes were bluer than he'd ever seen them and sparkling with energy. Even her smile was animated with an enthusiasm that Gladio couldn't help but echo, even if he had no idea what the fuck they were so happy about all the sudden. Was this what she was like when she was with Iggy? If so, Gladio could maybe see why he'd fallen for her.

"Oh . . . kay . . ., I don't hear anything," Prompto said.

"Exactly!" she said in a low breathy voice as though she were telling them the secret to life. "When you all left Insomnia, it was the first time you'd been outside the city in your entire lives—the very first time you'd seen the open sky, heard true silence, seen anything of nature.

"But since we left, we've been dashing about from one place to the next, and you were about to just traverse this ocean for the first time as though it were just another road. Look around you!"

She leapt to her feet and flung an arm out to the horizon. "The sky doesn't get any more unencumbered than that. Close your eyes, and feel the boat beneath you!"

It was almost like she'd cast a spell on him, because he closed his eyes without even thinking that she'd gone insane. Well, he _had_ thought she was a little nuts when she used to try and do this with him back when they first met, but a hell of a lot had changed since then.

As he let his body sway a little with the gentle rocking of the boat on the waves, she said, "That, right there, is the movement of wind across the entire surface of your planet, from every corner of the globe. You are _moving_ right along with your planet, one with it, breathing with it."

"Wow," Prompto whispered. "You're kinda crazy, but cool. You know?"

She gave him a broad smile, the tip of her tongue poking out to touch her teeth. "Sometimes even doing nothing can be an adventure in itself. Let's take some time to enjoy it. I'm going down below to change; the rest of you find something relaxing to do, even if it's just staring out at the waves."

As she turned and danced toward the captain's console to go downstairs, Gladio, Prompto, and Noct all slowly shifted their gaze to Ignis, who was looking after her with a crooked grin.

"She always like that?" Gladio asked.

Iggy looked up at him, his green eyes glowing bright in the sunlight. His smile widened until his eyes crinkled at the corners, and he nodded.

"Oh, yes. She is _always_ like that."

"So we're gonna be here for a while? I can fish?" Noct asked hopefully, already standing to head toward the bow.

"It would seem the lady deems it so," Iggy replied, sweeping a hand toward the bow, and Noct and Prompto jumped over the sidewall, racing to see who could make it up front first. Iggy sighed and said, "They're going to break their necks, and for what?"

"Same shit we already got in the armiger, probably," Gladio replied, shaking his head. He took off his jacket and tossed it on the seat, enjoying the sensation of the late summer sun tingling on his skin. Looking out over the water, he tried to take in the scene as Laura saw it, as a miracle that it existed. He'd never really understood why she'd get so damn excited every time they went to a new place. With all she'd seen, their whole world was probably the equivalent to stopping by the gas station at three in the morning for a cup of that terrible chili that would make him fart poison gas for at least twelve hours after (but damn was that shit good for some reason).

Now that he was thinking about it, it was pretty amazing that he was breathing air that had touched every part of the globe, and it was now touching his own lungs—giving him what he needed to survive before moving on to sustain the next plant, person, or animal. If he stood still and really let his body rock with the boat, he could imagine for a second that the world he was standing on was really alive, breathing with him like a living being. Those little choppy waves making slapping sounds on the side of the boat that he'd been getting bored of seeing a few minutes ago suddenly transformed into that marvel he'd been looking for—air, without a solid body, touching water and making it move. Those mountains he'd been staring at in the distance for hours suddenly became the roots of the world, pushed up on display for a mere mortal to see as they reflected the hazy blue light off the water.

And that was just what was happening above the surface. No telling what was going on beneath their feet.

Laura had just taken a monotonous scene and turned it into a miracle. How had she done that?

Gladio stepped up onto the platform on the stern, stretching his arms in the air as far as he could before swinging them out to one side, then the other, enjoying the give and pull of his back muscles as he moved. Maybe Laura had the right idea to change; maybe he should go for a swim after working on his tan a bit—learn what it felt like to be a miniscule fish in a vast ocean.

"Damn, Glad," he heard Laura say as she stepped up behind him and ran a hand over his shoulder. "How is it you haven't landed someone yet?"

He turned to grin at her, taking in her dark blue one-piece swimsuit and long, colorful wrap tied around her waist.

Feeling mischievous, he said, "I guess because any time a pretty girl comes along, I go and do something dumb, like this."

Wrapping both his arms around her, he tossed her as far off the side of the boat as he could so she wouldn't hit anything as she landed. She had enough time to shriek his name as she flew through the air before slapping the surface with an impressive splash and disappearing below the dark water.

"Gladio!" Ignis chastised sharply from his position against the sidewall.

Gladio rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Iggy, we're just having a little fun. Your own girl just told us all to loosen up. You should too!"

"It's quite an assumption on your behalf that she can even swim," he replied haughtily, raising an eyebrow.

Gladio spun back to look down into the water, where there seemed to be a distinct lack of any evidence of her surfacing. Shit. He hadn't even thought about that. They'd all been through so much that he sometimes forgot they hadn't actually known her that long, and she was always so capable of doing anything that it hadn't even occurred to him it was a possibility that she couldn't swim.

"Laura?" he called out. Growing worried when she didn't surface or blow bubbles or anything, he called more loudly, "Laura!"

Fuck. He bent his knees to dive in after her, but he stilled when he felt fingers wrap around his elbow.

"That won't be necessary. She's all right," Iggy said, looking down at where she'd disappeared.

How could he be so calm about this? Even if she could do some kinda freaky alien thing, there was no way of knowing for sure she was all right. Of course, if she was just doing this to teach him a lesson, he was gonna kick her ass when he got her back up here, but if she needed saving, they needed to quit dicking around. Knowing her, she'd probably already managed to piss off some sort of deity down there that would shake the very foundations of everything they thought they knew about their world.

"How do you know? She could've hit her head on something, gotten the breath knocked out of her, gotten carried off by something. Fuck, we gotta—"

"I just know. She's all right," he interrupted.

Gladio studied Iggy's expression, narrowing his eyes at the smooth forehead; calm, level gaze; and relaxed mouth. He wasn't even a little worried for her, and oh Ramuh's rod, how could he have not seen it before? He'd been thinking about all the weird alien shit she could do in the water; it never occurred to him all the weird alien shit she could do to Iggy.

"Dude, she's in your head right now, isn't she?"

His face had gone carefully blank, but his jaw clenched as he turned his head away and stared into the middle distance. He nodded once, sharply.

"Holy shit, Ig. What's that even like?"

He couldn't imagine what it would be like to share his own headspace with someone. Talking to Noct about his experience with the gods and Messengers, even with Laura in his head, it sounded like slamming back an entire bottle of vodka and just sitting back to see what popped up in his head.

The corner of Iggy's lips lifted in a small smile as he closed his eyes and let out a breath in a chuckle.

"Beyond words."

Fine time for Iggy's sense of humor to kick in now; Gladio really wanted to know. Even as he imagined the idea of sharing thoughts with someone, his mind kept going back and forth between it being amazing and a godsdamn nightmare. He knew Iggy was a private man—understatement of the century—and Gladio respected that. But it had been hard even for Gladio not to be more than a little interested every time the topic of their relationship was even hinted at. The man was fucking an alien and a goddess as no other human being on Eos ever had, and surely even Iggy could understand the objective curiosity. And speaking of fucking . . ..

"Hey, does she do it during . . . you know?" He'd spared Iggy the embarrassment of actually using the word 'fucking' out loud, but that didn't stop his eyebrows from waggling up and down—he swore that shit had been involuntary.

Iggy's head whipped in his direction, his eyes going wide as a bright flush spread over his cheeks and down his neck with alarming speed. His gaze immediately dropped to the deck of the boat, and his jaw bulged a little as he gritted his teeth again.

"Damn," Gladio said, shaking his head. "That's a 'hell, yes' if I ever saw it." He let his voice grow quiet and serious, since that was the only way he had any hope at all of getting anything out of him. "I wish you were anyone else in the world right now so you could tell me what that was like."

Gladio lost sight of Ignis's expression as he hung his head, and it made him wonder. If it had hurt Noct to share headspace with the gods, was it hurting Iggy? Was he tolerating the pain just so he could keep her in his life? Or what if it was even more twisted than that? Gladio knew Laura was a good person, but relationships could get weird behind closed doors. And who the fuck knew what went on in an alien relationship?

If he weren't standing so close to him, Gladio would've definitely missed Iggy's one whispered word.

"Rapturous."

Well, shit. Either it was the experience itself or Iggy's vastly more extensive vocabulary, but Gladio couldn't describe any of his numerous encounters as fucking 'rapturous.' Could telepathic sex really be that much better than regular sex? Gladio had certainly had enough of the regular kind to be well familiar with the human experience, and it was always fucking fantastic, if he did say so himself. But that word coupled with what little expression he could make out in Iggy's downcast eyes . . . maybe Gladio should start trying harder to find something a little more meaningful than a good fuck when this was all over—something like what his mom and dad had had, something like what maybe Iggy and Laura had. Maybe something like that would even be possible when he wasn't a weapon anymore—when he was allowed to feel again.

Iggy turned to go, but Gladio put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. There was just one more thing he had to check, cause he'd kick his own ass if he didn't, and it turned out she was imprisoning him or something.

"I just got one more question. You're okay with it, right? Always?"

Ignis inclined his head, fixing him with a serious stare, but his eyes were clear, bright, and so _alive_ , just like Laura's had been—and Gladio was finally able to put a word to that expression he'd seen in Iggy's eyes since he'd come back from the trial.

Joy. It was pure, simple, quiet joy. No one had recognized it for what it was because Iggy was always hiding several layers of emotions behind that expression, Gladio was beginning to learn. He'd never be jumping around like a loon in love, but it was there nonetheless. Fucking Astrals, he _loved_ her.

"Yes, always. Of course," he said almost incredulously.

Even behind the joy, there was something else unidentifiable. He seemed older now, more experienced, and not in that stupid way everyone thought somehow showed up in their face after they started having sex. He seemed to have softened, filled with wonder, smiled more. It was subtle though; Gladio'd had to compare him to the guy he'd been back at the Citadel to really see it. He wasn't wound so tight anymore; his resting expression had relaxed some, and there was wisdom and color in his face instead of world-weariness and dark rings around his eyes. Flipping through Prompto's pictures lately, Gladio saw that he'd even managed to catch Iggy laughing a time or two.

Gladio gave him a couple of slaps on the shoulder. "Sorry, man. Just had to check."

Iggy nodded. "I appreciate your concern, but I'd be most grateful for your discretion on this matter."

Gladio pulled back a little, his brow raising in surprise. "Damn, Ig. I wasn't gonna say anything. Not my place."

"You have my thanks," he replied, looking back out over the water, and Gladio followed his gaze.

"So, does she turn into a fish down there, or what?"

Iggy grinned like little kid, chuckling, and Gladio wondered why it had taken him so long to put a name to that look.

"No, she doesn't, but she can be down there for quite some time. It seems something's caught her eye, and she's going to investigate."

That was never a good sign. Seemed like Laura had a magnet in her ass for trouble.

"Can you talk back to her?" When he nodded, Gladio said, "Just tell her to be careful, will ya?"

"Always."


	44. Chapter 44

**Author's Note:  
**

NSFW in this chapter.

* * *

 _Hey, what are you doing just sitting there? I told you to do something relaxing._

Ignis stood from the bench and peered over the side of the boat, where Laura's wet head could be seen bobbing amidst the swells. Looking back to the transom where Gladio sat, he caught the Shield's gaze and nodded in Laura's direction. Gladio jumped to his feet, and when he caught sight of Laura swimming toward the ladder hanging off the stern, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"You sure freaked me the fuck out, Princess. You been under, what? Ten minutes?"

 _Sitting_ _ **is**_ _relaxing,_ he answered, doing his best to keep all traces of the somewhat sudden shift of his mood from giddiness to discomfort out of their connection after his talk with Gladio. Though he knew she would still want him to be his honest self, he couldn't bring himself to reveal anything negative—for now. All had been completely forgiven and somewhat forgotten on both sides yesterday, but Ignis could _never_ forget the sight of Rose's face as he'd thoughtlessly hurled such spiteful words at the woman who had transformed his existence so completely for the better.

Astrals, how disgraceful and ungrateful could he have been? For shame.

"Ten minutes, thirteen seconds," she replied casually, pulling herself up the ladder. "And it serves you right! Assuming I could swim like that!" She gave him a wet slap on the shoulder before jumping down to the deck and heading toward Ignis.

 _Well, go get changed. I found something I really want to show you. Wanna go on a real-life adventure with me?_ That euphoria that had been emanating from her since she'd halted the vessel was pouring off her now, spilling over their connection and prickling at his mind in complete contrast to the mortification he was still feeling.

It had been some time indeed since they'd gone on one of her mad adventures in real life, and Ignis was surprised to find that he still dreaded and anticipated the prospect as much as he had when she was first drawing him in—perhaps even more so, as whatever she was proposing was likely to involve far more than taking off his boots in the grass. He was already feeling vulnerable; he didn't particularly relish the idea of adding salty water and half-nudity to his list of experiences today. But he had to, didn't he? He'd already let her down so spectacularly, and so very recently. And it wasn't as though he wouldn't thoroughly enjoy the adventure once he was on it.

In an attempt to give himself time to wrestle his more negative feelings into submission before acquiescing, and because he had just now thought of it, he leaned over the glass windows of the sidewall, calling out, "Did you remember to put on sunscreen, Noct?"

He could practically hear the Prince roll his eyes as he responded, "Yes, Ignis."

 _Ignis, love, what are you doing?_ she asked gently _. I can still feel you passively, you know. I'd never make you do anything you didn't truly want to._

She had reached him by this point and was gazing up at him, searching his eyes as her hair and sarong dripped seawater onto the deck around her feet. Bowing his head, he passed on everything he was feeling in that moment: exposed from the embarrassing conversation she had also heard, reluctant to strip down in front of the others and get wet, remorseful for letting her down and binding her to a stuffy hypocrite masquerading as some sort of adventurer.

 _Stop that,_ she said, shoving a little at his mind. She indicated that he wait a moment while she untied her sarong, wrung it out over the side, and laid it out on the gunwale to dry. Conjuring a towel to dry off so she wouldn't get him wet, she came to stand in front of him again, placing a hand over his heart briefly before glancing over at Gladio and letting it drop.

Sighing, she said, _I'll confess I was a bit disappointed. You only have one life to live, Ignis. I want you to_ _ **live**_ _it with me, whether in our dream world or here in the real one. And that means taking you out of your comfort zone sometimes. But I swear, as it always has been, I'll love you regardless of what you choose._

 _Well, with an argument like that . . . how can I refuse anything you ask?_ he replied, pushing off the sidewall and turning toward the cabin, but she stopped him with a hand at his elbow.

 _You see? That right there. Are you certain you're doing this for you and not just to make me happy?_

 _I'll always endeavor to make you happy. Is that not what spouses are meant to do? But I suppose when you put it in the context of my life, it_ _ **is**_ _a rather foolish notion. I can always take a shower straight after, and the very worst the others will do is harass me about my pallor and physique._

 _And I'll set them straight on that really quick if they try,_ she growled, glaring up at him. _I'm sleeping with you, not with them, so obviously you won a contest somewhere._

 _Oh, by the gods, please don't use that argument should the topic arise, I beg of you,_ he replied, his eyes widening in horror. _But you're also right. You've taken me past my usual bounds of comfort several times, and I've not once regretted it. Now, I'm going to get changed before you manage to talk me out of what you've talked me into._

Ignis looked up briefly before turning back to the cabin, and he caught sight of Gladio, who had likely been watching as he and Laura stood and made faces at each other this whole time, an ever-widening smirk spreading to encompass his entire face.

Sighing wearily, he said, _I suppose he's going to be smug every time he catches us doing this now._

She shrugged. _If he knows, I don't see the point in trying to hide it from him, but I think he's just intensely curious._

 _A trait for which I cannot fault him. His concern for my wellbeing was most thoughtful as well,_ he said as he made his way through the cabin and downstairs, where small living quarters lay situated in front of the hold that stored the Regalia.

Gladio had been expressing concern and support for him frequently as of late, and though Ignis would have rather not had the attention drawn to him, Gladio's display of camaraderie was both touching and appreciated. And Ignis had to admit that turnabout was fair play. After all, he himself had been the one to gently press the Shield into sharing his experience with the Blademaster. At least Gladio hadn't returned the favor by asking Ignis to divulge in front of everyone, which he supposed had been unfair of him to do.

Even though Ignis trusted Gladio's discretion completely, it was only a matter of time before Noct and Prompto found out about his and Laura's telepathic connection. All things considered, he'd rather be the one to tell them rather than have them find out—perhaps if they both survived the event ahead of them that had frightened Laura so.

He'd been trying not to dwell on that thought. Foreknowledge of any sort was a high cost indeed for marrying the Goddess of Time; he could only imagine what it must have been like for her. Shoving the thoughts aside, he changed into his swim trunks.

Ignis emerged from the cabin feeling practically nude without a shirt or his glasses, aware that his skin seemed to be glowing bright white as it reflected the sunlight. He braced himself against the spotted, underfed phantom comments he was no doubt about to receive.

 _Would you mind helping me with sunscreen?_ he asked, grabbing the bottle from the console where Noct had left it. _I'm afraid I have a tendency to burn._

 _With pleasure,_ she purred, coming inside to take the bottle from him.

Looking up to check his surroundings, Ignis caught sight of Gladio's warm smile as he hopped up onto the gunwale and leaned over the windows to look into the cabin. "You going for a swim, Ig? Good idea. Might go change myself and jump in. Gonna go ask Spazzy and Sleepy if they wanna join." He slapped the window twice before heading up to the bow.

 _Did you say something to him?_ he asked suspiciously, his narrowed gaze following Gladio's progress to the others through the windows.

 _Gladio and I say a lot of things to each other,_ she replied enigmatically as she squirted the sunscreen into her palms, turned him around with a hand to his shoulder, and began rubbing the fruity smelling concoction onto his back. He had to say, the fake, overly-sweet scent hardly complimented his tastes.

He was about to press her for a more unambiguous answer when he caught her rush of warmth—her hearts beating faster in her chest and her breaths coming through parted lips as she finished his back and shoulders and turned him around. She didn't thrust the feeling at him in order to arouse him, but rather continued working with her thoughts silent and her emotions roaring. His own breath hitched as he watched her pupils expand while she applied the cream to his belly—the space between his navel and the elastic of his swim trunks.

A particularly high swell hit the boat at that moment, rocking him forward into her, and as he gripped her shoulders to steady himself, he caught the flash of an image—of him pushing her against the console, wrapping her legs around him, and taking her right there—perhaps even while yanking down the top of her swimsuit to lave one of her hardened nipples that were currently brushing against his bare chest. Clenching his jaw against the wave of arousal and irrational desire to do just that—and damn anyone nearby—he let go of her.

 _Sorry,_ she said when the swell had passed. _I'm not trying to make this more difficult for you, I swear. Sometimes I just . . . think of you._

 _Hardly your fault if I'm looking in on your thoughts—and I haven't yet fully developed my sea legs._ He paused for a moment before reluctantly admitting, _And . . . I think of you as well—alarmingly frequently, as I'm certain you've noticed._

It seemed as though a flash of desire would flit through him at the oddest of moments: when she would tilt her head in thought, exposing his favorite spot to taste just behind her ear; in the more domestic moments, when he would stand next to her in their kitchen area and prepare meals; or even at seemingly random times, such as while walking back to the Regalia after a particularly successful hunt. His ample imagination would send to him unbidden images of suddenly turning on her, pressing her up or down against the nearest surface, and consuming her. He'd done his best to spare her his insatiability, though she no doubt still picked up passively on his mood. Constantly surrounded as they were by others, he would always have to shake these fantasies off without relief, just as he would have to do now, unfortunately.

 _So, what adventure do you have prepared for us this afternoon?_

Her darkened gaze lit up once again to become sparkling sapphire as she pressed a quick kiss to the mole on his right bicep, flicking her tongue out to taste it before pulling back and responding.

 _For once, I get to show you something no human being has probably ever seen on your own planet. Allons-y!_

His apprehension slowly beginning to dissipate at the prospect of yet another once-in-a-lifetime adventure, now that he'd agreed to go along with it, he couldn't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm as she grabbed for his hand and practically dragged him to the back of the boat. Once they had slipped off the transom and into the waves, he had to admit that he didn't feel nearly as exposed with the waterline up to his chest. The water was only a little chilly—easily adjusted to—as it lapped at his skin, and the increased buoyancy, likely due to the salinity of the water, was a curious, new sensation.

Ignis hadn't taken ample opportunities to swim in the pool at the Crownsguard training center, finding the chlorine drying and distasteful as he did, but he'd taken the time to become at least a decent swimmer. Out here in the ocean, however—with its mercurial nature, restless waves, and formidable currents—was another matter entirely. Sending Rose his history on the exercise so she would be aware of his limitations, he was relieved to find her unconcerned.

Laura turned back to the boat. "Hey, babe!" she called out to Gladio, who was walking along the gunwale. "We're gonna be underwater for a while. Don't panic this time, yeah? I'm not drowning him."

"Do I even wanna know how you plan on accomplishing that? You may be able to do some alien shit, but he's still human . . . last I checked, anyway."

She gave him a wide, mysterious smile. "I'll leave that up to your ample imagination. But I'm curious. When was the last time you checked? I'm fascinated to hear your process."

"Maybe I'll just leave that part up to your imagination, Princess," he said with a wink.

"Oooh, thanks for _that_ image," she said seductively. Fortunately, she was either joking, or she'd chosen to spare Ignis the specifics of the image to which she was referring.

 _You might be surprised, love,_ she said cryptically. _There are a lot of universes out there—a lot of possibilities._

Before he could ask what on Eos she could possibly be implying with such a statement, she said to Gladio, "But seriously, anywhere from ten minutes to an hour or so; it depends on how long we want to stay."

"Uh . . . all right then," he replied hesitantly. "Just be careful, and don't piss anything off down there for a change."

"No promises!" she said before turning back to Ignis. _We'll have to be quick, so I'll be the one to swim us down there._ _You still might not make it in one breath, though. Let me know if you're running out of air, and I'll give you some more._

Just how deep were they going that he would run out of air? He'd only just learned that her respiratory bypass allowed her to survive an additional half-hour or so in addition to her natural lung capacity, so how could she possibly support him as well as herself for up to an hour? How would it feel to not be responsible for his own breathing for such an extended period?

 _Hey,_ she said, reaching for his hand as they tread water. _Do you trust me?_

Yes, of course he trusted her. With his mind. With his heart. With his life. _Apologies,_ he said, _it's merely an instinct when you say things like that._

 _To question—yes, I know. I'll always admire your inquisitiveness, but in this case, you lose some of the wonder if I spell it out beforehand. Is that all right?_

He'd already faced the dark for her—ambiguity seemed a simple matter after that, so he nodded his assent.

 _All right. I need you to get in this position,_ she said, sending him an image of him clinging to her back, so he complied, wrapping his arms and legs around her torso when she turned position felt somewhat ridiculous; he felt like an overlarge child.

 _Now take a few slow deep breaths, then one large one. Be sure to hold on to it when we dive. It'll be fast and might come as a shock._

He did as she asked, and when he had taken his deep breath, she flipped their positions in a flash so that their heads were almost instantly underwater facing the ocean floor. Having been forewarned, Ignis was able to hold his breath through the shock of their maneuver and the sudden disorientation, but only just.

Laura moved, unsurprisingly, like a sea creature herself, her body rippling through the currents like a ribbon on the breeze. He could feel the effort behind the kicks of her powerful legs, which sent them shooting through the water so swiftly that the current threatened to pull his chest away from her back, so he clutched at her more tightly.

 _Hey, open your eyes, silly._ _You're in the ocean!_

Though he'd despised doing so in the pool back home, he complied, the salt stinging for a moment before settling into a tolerable nuisance. The effort was well worth it, however, when he took in the view that greeted him. It was like absolutely nothing he'd ever seen—even if it wasn't quite as clear as he would prefer—almost as though he were truly exploring another planet with her.

 _Rose, this is just . . . astounding._

He was beginning to wonder how long it would be until she grew tired of his poor and oft-repeated expressions of amazement and incredulity.

 _Never,_ she replied emphatically.

The bright tawny sand far below them seemed to be endless, rippling with refracted light and almost making it appear as though it were overrun with living, gleaming ribbons of electricity. The depth of water through which they were traversing suddenly transformed from mere water into his horizon, an impenetrable steel blue sky that obscured his range of vision, but that made it no less stunning in his opinion. Off to their left was a deep crevasse, a jagged rent in the ocean floor whose bottom appeared dark, unfathomable, and more than slightly ominous to Ignis's blurry vision, and he sincerely hoped that that wasn't where they were headed. Knowing Rose, however . . ..

His attention was drawn to the edge of the crevasse, where sat perched what seemed to be an entire conservatory of plants made of rocks, their intense colors ranging from the brightest magenta to the most violent yellow. Ignis had read about coral reefs in books and seen pictures, but he'd always believed that the colors had been altered to appear more vibrant than reality; he'd been wrong, most certainly, just as he'd been incorrect about the sea life, as well. Small electric blue, nuclear orange, and savagely red fish darted in and out between the stiff, curling fingers and wide fans of the coral, creating a bristling, never-ending wave of vibrant pigmentation—the likes of which he'd never seen.

The pressure in his ears was beginning to grow uncomfortably painful as they continued to descend, threatening to stifle that sense of awe and wonder, and he shook his head in an effort to clear it, to no avail.

 _That's normal. Here._ She sent him the sensation of clearing her own ears, and he imitated the instructions he felt in his head, sighing inwardly at the instant relief. But his reprieve didn't last long, however, as the burn in his lungs began to make itself known.

 _Rose? I think I'll be needing more air soon._

 _Okay,_ she said, slowing. _Loosen your arms a bit so I can turn in your grasp._ When she turned in his arms to face him, she continued, _This next part might be difficult for you. I need you to let out your used breath until your lungs are empty. Then I'll press my lips to yours and breathe into your mouth. All right?_

Astrals, he'd never been more aware of the crushing weight of water above his head than in that moment. Doing his best to brush aside the anxiety at the prospect of what he was being asked to do, he summoned every iota of strength he had, relinquished what little life-sustaining oxygen was left in his lungs, and surrendered himself completely to her mercy. He'd done it without hesitation, at least, if not without some reasonable reservation. The last of his breath floated over his face in tickling bubbles as it rose to the surface, and he, perhaps deliriously, wondered if the others would see that breath break the surface above.

 _Very well, though you probably already know this, I am now seconds from drowning, my dear,_ he commented wryly.

Her lips quirked into a smile before she moved to press her lips to his, sealing their mouths tightly. It was easier than he'd thought it would be to suck down the air from her mouth, as the somewhat terrifying pressure building in his lungs was relieved immediately as they expanded.

 _Now let's get moving,_ she said as she pulled back and turned around in his arms again. _We're almost there._

 _Did you just give me your entire reserve of actual air?_ he asked as she took off once again to the crevasse—of course.

 _Yes, but I've got the bypass. And you won't be needing another breath. As I said, we're almost there._

As she swam, Ignis peered over her shoulder and noticed a cave opening in the wall near the top of the ravine. Was that where they were headed? Her answer did little to alleviate his growing concern for their situation as she affirmed his assumption.

 _You may want to close your eyes for this part,_ she warned as they passed through the entrance. He could feel her picking up speed in an effort to rush him though the portion that would make him most uncomfortable, but even he silently advised against it, as the view he'd gotten before he was submerged in complete blackness was that of a cramped tunnel lined with viciously jagged rocks. His heart began to pound uncomfortably in his throat as he closed his eyes against the sensation of complete sensory deprivation in a such a dangerous and confining space. Combined with the pressure of the water and his physical inability to breathe, he was beginning to feel suffocated.

How could she even see where she was going in a void of sensation so complete?

 _The same way I can see you when we're sparring with my eyes closed. Remember, I'm quite a bit more sensitive than you're physically capable of. It's all right; just a few more seconds, I promise._ She sent him an image of their field outside the chocobo ranch, flooded with bright sunlight and wide-open spaces. _Keep your eyes closed, if it helps. We're about to break the surface, so you can breathe on your own._

 _How is that possible?_ he asked as his mind grasped at the image she was projecting. _I admit I'm no expert by any means, but we must be well over one hundred feet below the surface._

 _Just wait. We're about to reach the wondrous part. We're about to reach the part that makes this entire thing worth it._

Why was it that there always seemed to be such a daunting cost to experiencing the wonder? But as he caressed her golden thread in his mind, he knew she was right; it had always been worth it to him. He'd follow her into the pits of hell for her wondrous revelations just as surely as he would do the same for Noct to keep him safe.

It was another few moments before they did, in fact, break the surface of the water, and his feet touched stone beneath him. Though he still had plenty of her air left, he sucked in a great gulp, eager to be responsible for his own respiration again.

Even though it was still pitch black, being able to breathe on his own made all the difference in his mood as he took in another lungful of old and stale-tasting air to remark, "You . . . are _utterly, completely_ mad, woman!"

His voice, along with her accompanying giggle, echoed oddly off what sounded like stone walls. He could feel the space in his mind—surprisingly large and cavernous, with what sounded like an extremely jagged ceiling. The place tasted ancient and deserted; at least there were no daemons here in these dark depths.

"I'm making an effort not to be insulted that you would even think I would take you somewhere so dangerous while limited like this," she said indignantly as a flash of her Pocket surprised him.

"Well, if the journey getting here is any indication of what you consider safe, how am I to know?" he asked, humor lacing his tone.

He felt her lips against his chest for a moment before she replied, "Shut up and look above your head. I'm about to light this place."

He caught the glow of a small orb of light in her hand out of the corner of his eye and had to look down as she dropped it beneath the surface of the water, where it transformed the chest-high liquid they were standing in to a luminous electric blue. But as much as he wished to watch the glowing water swish through his fingers, he was distracted by the sight of the ceiling above his head.

"Rose," he breathed, nearly moved to speechlessness. "Dazzling."

A hundred thousand fingers of rock, ranging in size from his pinky finger to his entire body, dangled from the ceiling of the cave, stretching down to the ethereal water below. The majority of the formations were the cleanest, purest white Ignis had ever seen, sparkling in the ambient light from Laura's orb, but there were other colors as well: oranges, blues, reds, greens, purples—every color he could think of—glittering like gemstones above his head.

"How is this possible?" he asked, turning to look at her pale-blue face lit from below.

"To be honest, I don't know. I've seen air pocket caves before, but they usually exist above sea level while the entrance is underwater. Perhaps some oxygen was sealed in millions of years ago when the oceans rose. Given how deep it is, you're likely the first human in this cave's history to be here." Pointing to one of the larger spirals of white reaching out for them, she said, "It takes a thousand years to create a formation ten centimeters long, so one this size takes about two hundred thousand years to create. Can you _believe_ that?"

Ignis had lost the ability to form words, so he let his emotions speak for themselves: gratitude for making him face himself to come in the first place—to brush aside irritations that seemed so trivial now in the wake of what was floating above his head; wonder at her ability to discover this and then want to share it with him enough to put up with his reticence; awe at the sheer miracle that was both the scene around him and her—his most precious soulmate.

Astrals, how he loved her—for always defending him—against his tutors, against his enemies, against his friends, against himself.

 _Just . . . thank you doesn't begin to cover it_ , he said, still staring up at the ceiling.

But he knew he didn't need to thank her. He could feel her bliss at the sight of him reveling in her gift, her delight at having him there to share it with her.

 _There are an infinite number of spectacles in the multiverse,_ she said softly, wrapping their forearms and squeezing his fingers, _but they are flat and lifeless unless you have a hand to hold._

 _Is that what you wanted from me, all those weeks ago? I confess I didn't know what this meant._

She murmured warmly before answering, _It was meant to be left open to your interpretation, as I didn't want anything from you that you weren't willing to give. But essentially, yes._

 _You were . . . interested in me that early on?_ he asked, looking down at her in surprise.

She smiled up at him. _When are you going to start believing me? I was interested in you the moment I met you. I must admit your occasional haughtiness and subservience were less than pleasant, but then I fell in love with you in the moments in between, when you were warm and quietly passionate._

She sent him her memory of their first night by the fire, and he was horrified and thrilled in equal measure at just how much she had gleaned from the color of his thoughts that evening as he held her hand and quietly burned for her, even as she burned from his touch. She had fallen asleep on him that night with hope blossoming in her chest.

He shook his head. _And to think_ _I could have just leaned in and kissed you then. After you'd started doing the same with Prompto, I just assumed I was a means to an end._

"Oh gods," she said under her breath, resting her chilly cheek against his chest as her hand settled around the back of his neck. "I didn't know that. I'm sorry."

He wrapped his arms around her, grasping at the end of the wet plait hanging at her back. "It doesn't matter. I couldn't be more grateful that circumstances worked out as they did."

He was about to lean down to latch his mouth to the juncture of her shoulder, but she looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

"What is it?"

"They're growing worried up there, and something's happened to shock them. We'd better be heading back."

He bent his head anyway, darting his tongue out to taste the salty skin of her neck for a moment before straightening. "I suppose we should, no matter how much I was looking forward to utilizing the privacy."

Her voice turned small and almost needy as she said, "Do you think we can arrange some time alone in Altissia? Maybe spend the night on the boat once, that's all I ask."

He closed his eyes, knowing the exact reasons for both her tone and her request. Normally, he would never make such an inappropriate request to spend the night away from his liege, but given the extreme circumstances . . ..

"I shall speak to Noct to see if it can be arranged."

"Thank you," she said with a nod. "We should also look for some opportunity for you to try out your new abilities in a practical setting when we arrive."

"Agreed," he said, though he shivered at the implication of her words.

This was it, then. She was preparing to say goodbye.

* * *

"Iggy! Laura!" Prompto hollered as he bounced to the back of the boat. "Glad you're still breathing!"

Ignis hauled himself out of the water before turning to help Laura up onto the deck. Glancing over at Noct, Prompto, and Gladio, he took note that they had all changed into swimwear and were still wet. They must have gone swimming while he and Laura were in the cave.

"Yeah, babe," Gladio said, "gotta admit, even with your warning, it was kinda nerve-wracking up here waiting."

As Ignis summoned towels for the both of them, Noct said, "Hey, Ig. I don't get it. If you knew where Pitioss was all along, why'd you let us run around Lucis asking about it?"

Ignis whipped his eyes up to Noct, frowning. "What? I don't know where Pitioss is."

Laura handed him a t-shirt, which he took gratefully and put on. _Thank you, love._

"Iris sent an email," Gladio said, handing Ignis his phone. "Didn't think we'd get a signal out this far, but I guess Altissia would have better reception if they're using Magitek towers or whatever."

Ignis looked down to read the message:

 _Gladdy,_

 _Talcott looked through Jared's diary again, and he found something on Pitioss. Hope this helps you guys!_

 _-Iris_

This didn't clear up the matter of being accused of knowing all along where Pitioss lay, so he opened the attachment—a photo of a hand-drawn map. Just north of Verinas Mart near the Rock of Ravatogh, there was a haven marked "Monoth" and an X marked "Pitioss Ruins."

"It kinda sucks," Prompto muttered. "We just left there. Who knows when we'll be back?"

But it wasn't the location that stilled his breath, even if he would rather never set foot near that accursed rock again; it was the fact that this piece of previously unknown intelligence was written in his own hand.

 _Ignis? What's wrong? What is it?_

Wordlessly, he handed her the phone.

"Oh, gods. Pitioss is near Ravatogh, and . . . that's your handwriting."

Gladio snorted. "Yeah, think we haven't seen enough of his calligraphy shit to recognize it? When'd you draw this in Jared's diary, Ig?"

"I'll admit to that being my handwriting," he answered, "but I've never seen Jared's diary firsthand, nor did I know the location to Pitioss until just a moment ago."

"Well! That makes things vastly more complicated then," Laura said, locking the phone and handing it back to Gladio.

"Whaddya mean?" Noct asked, frowning.

"It means that Ignis is going to be doing some time traveling in the future . . . to the past."

"Not _another_ paradoxis," Ignis groaned.

Laura shook her head and made her way to the back bench, where she collapsed down on the cushion. "I doubt it. Paradoxis are exceedingly rare. There's more than one way to time travel, you know."

She looked over at him as he took a seat next to her. _At some point, you're going to go back into the past and put that in there. The not too distant past, I'm guessing, as Talcott hadn't seen it before yesterday._

"So . . . what are we gonna do about this?" Prompto asked.

"Wait, unfortunately. It's how it always works. We can't get to Pitioss right now when we're on our way to Altissia, and we'll just have to see what time traveling opportunities arise in the future," Laura said.

"Huh. Not like those come along every day," Gladio said. "But if we're gonna find out, we'd better get going."

"You mind if I drive this time, Laura?" Noct asked, his eyes growing wide in hope.

"I mean . . . it's your boat," she said with a shrug.

"Hard for him to crash into anything out here in the open," Gladio agreed.

Noct gave Laura a shove on the shoulder as he, Prompto, and Gladio passed on their way to the captain's console. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he chuckled.

As Noct started the boat and guided them once again toward Altissia, Ignis turned to Laura, who was sitting with her eyes closed.

 _Are you fatigued?_ he asked.

 _A little,_ she admitted. _I don't have much call to use respiratory bypass often—only during extreme emergencies, like when all the oxygen is being sucked from the room or someone strangles me. I'd forgotten how much it wears me out._

He blinked at her in surprise. _And do things like that . . . happen often?_

She smiled a little, lying over on her side and putting her feet up on the seat. Ignis cast a quick glance at the others before reaching over and stroking her head. _Well, like I said, not the things that require bypass. You think yours is the only adventure ever taken where things go wrong? This strife may be out of your usual sphere of experience, but I've rarely spent so much time in leisure. I'm usually solving a problem in a universe for a day or two before moving on. It's rare I stay longer than that._

That didn't surprise him terribly, if he thought about it, except for perhaps the idea that she rarely stayed in one place for long. It made her decision to remain here with him for the rest of his lifespan all the more meaningful, even if she hadn't known when making the proposal just how short a time that would be. But looking back on his first impressions of her in the Crown City—a well-trained assassin, to be sure, but ultimately a sheltered noble like himself, he couldn't have been more wrong about her.

 _To be fair, the gown I was wearing that day would hardly convince anyone that I'd be prepared for roughing it in the wild with you guys, and then not knowing anything of your world . . .._

He remembered the scene, which he had believed at the time to be their first meeting, well: her diminutive frame as she crouched like a wild animal over a man who had defeated him in combat training hundreds of times over, the ferocity in her gaze as she held the blade to the Marshal's throat, and the beauty and power that seemed to radiate from her in that moment, even as the delicate embroidery had pooled over his body.

As he looked down at her now, stretched out as she was, nearly naked in her swimsuit and her hair dull and stringy from wind and salt, he could only appreciate the luminescence of her skin, the flare of her hips and breasts, the curve of her perfect lips. Sensing his admiration, she opened her eyes slowly at him, and they shimmered with a radiance that seemed to warm him from within. Even in this state, so opposed to how she had first appeared to him, she was breathtaking.

"But what about you?" she asked after a few moments. "Are _you_ all right with this time loop ahead of you?"

"I don't know. Time travel . . .," he shook his head, "it's a phenomenon I only just recently learned was even real. And my first experience was . . . harrowing, to say the least. Of course I shall do it if I must, but I can't say I'll enjoy it."

"I'm sorry, but yes, you must. You have to close the time loop, or you'll _cause_ a paradox this time. If you don't draw that map, we will have never received it, except we just did."

"Do you see what I mean? How many end-of-the-world scenarios must I be a part of? The one I was destined and trained for was quite enough, I thought."

 _Honestly, it's the ink used that concerned me more,_ she said. _There's more than one time loop at work here._

 _Yes, I noticed it was of a type I've not seen. And I would need to get my fountain pen repaired before I create the drawing. It hasn't been quite the same since the seadevil._

 _If it's at all possible, I'll go with you this time. Perhaps I can even convince you to enjoy it._

He took note of her abrupt redirection of the topic but didn't press the matter, knowing that she would, as usual, tell him what she could, when she could—no matter how much it frustrated him. _You know, I think I know exactly what I would've done had the Doctor come to my quarters with his blue box._

 _Oh yeah? What's that?_ she asked, a slow smile spreading over her lips.

 _I would have called him a madman and sicced the entire Crownsguard on him._

Whooping with laughter, she said, _Yeah, that's the reaction he got most of the time. Nothing out of the ordinary there!_

At the sound of her laughter, so very full of that life he adored, Ignis was nearly overcome with the desire to swoop down and taste her mouth; to graze his fingers over every inch of her sticky, salty skin; to ravish her right there on the bench. How many opportunities would they get to be alone together in Altissia? In the rest of what little time they had left together? It seemed cities afforded them far fewer chances than in the wild.

 _Hey,_ she said, no doubt sensing his sudden wave of melancholia, _you've been doing that today—and hiding your thoughts from me. What's wrong?_

Did she truly think he hadn't put the pieces together? They had very nearly discussed it directly after Ravatogh. Or was this sort of foreknowledge so common to her that she thought nothing of its gravity? Exhaling forcefully, he replied, _It's nothing. I should go and get cleaned up before our arrival._

 _All right,_ she said slowly. _Just . . . know you can talk to me about anything that's bothering you, yeah?_

He nodded before standing. They would have to talk about it—soon. But not today. Not today.

* * *

After rinsing the conditioner from his hair, he stood in the little shower stall, balancing himself against the gentle rocking of the boat as they grew close enough to Altissia for Noct to slow down some. As much as he would've liked to have waited until they made it to their hotel room, the sensation of the dry salt on his skin and the stiff, itchy feeling of his hair as it dried had been irritating him since he'd gotten out of the water.

He glanced down at his aching erection distastefully. As busy as he'd been back home, Ignis had rarely taken the opportunity to truly indulge in autoeroticism—to thoroughly lose himself in the pleasure of it. More often than not, masturbation was more a convenient means to find some temporary relief from the hormones he couldn't seem to control. After regular, far more satisfying encounters with Rose these past weeks, it seemed that ten days without her was all his body would abide by, and he was going to need to resort to old habits before he embarrassed himself in public.

As he was reaching down to take himself in hand to alleviate his issue as efficiently as possible, he felt something even warmer and wetter than the shower water slip down around him. He looked down in confusion for a moment. Nothing had changed visually, but _oh_ it felt so real, as though he were truly inside her.

 _Rose?_ he asked hesitantly.

 _Yes?_ she asked, her mental voice sounding breathless.

 _Is that you?_

 _Yes,_ she chuckled. _Were you expecting someone else?_

He closed his eyes and braced himself against the wall of the shower stall with both hands, letting the prickling warm water combine with the slip and cling of her sex stretching to accommodate him. _Oh_ what an erotic sensation to feel her so precisely around him when she wasn't even here with him! Experimenting, he gave a little thrust into the air and was rewarded with the sensation of sliding deeper into her delicious, wet heat.

 _No, of course not. I . . . ohhh, I just wanted to make sure I wasn't going mad._

In addition to the feeling of being inside her, a warm, phantom tongue and lips enveloped his testicles in that moment, and he had to bite back the cry that rose up his throat. As it was, he couldn't control the thought that popped unbidden into his mind.

 _Ohhh, fuck._

Her movements faltered for a moment, which allowed him the opportunity to compose himself enough to say, _Apologies._

 _No. Say it again,_ she seemed to whisper directly into his ear so that he swore he could feel her hot breath tickling him. She followed up her command with a scrape of teeth to the bulge of his jawbone and a tight squeeze to his erection.

 _Fuck, Rose!_

 _Yessss, Ignis,_ she hissed. _Come for me, beautiful._

 _This isn't . . . oh gods, Rose, this isn't fair to you. Can you feel this too?_

 _No, because you aren't sending me anything. I agree it is quite unfair. You should probably do something about that._

He gasped as she tightened her grip around him. _Tell me what to do._

 _It's just like speaking, love. Just imagine what you're doing to me and project. As you can probably tell by now, you aren't limited by physicality in this realm._ At this, he felt yet another mouth at the pulse point on the other side of his neck, licking with a hot, wet tongue and scraping teeth over his sensitive skin.

With a colossal effort, he shoved aside the physical sensations his body was feeling for a moment in his desire to please her. His mind raced through their every encounter, collecting each of the ways he had touched her that had made her gasp: entering her, tasting her, nibbling on her nipples, running his lips and teeth over her neck, cupping her breasts, and stroking her sides.

The invisble hands on his shoulders, which had been stroking softly as she moved on him, stilled as he slowly added each of those feelings to their connection, and that tingling, almost achy satisfaction of being filled echoed through their bond, building that familiar blaze of her pleasure that only served to increase his.

 _Yes. Ignis,_ she moaned. _I don't think . . . I don't think I'll last long, as worked up as we both are._

 _That's rather fortunate. I don't believe I will . . .._ He gasped and threw his head back above the shower spray, his eyes rolling up into his head as tight tingles shot down his legs, making his knees tremble.

Determined as always to bring her to climax with him, he braced himself against the wall of the shower stall once more as he moved over her in his mind, imagining swooping down to lick below her ear and tasting her sweet fragrance; burying his fingers in her hair, pressing his lips to her mouth, and capturing her tongue with his; letting his fingertips dance across her collarbones and down to her breasts, cupping them. It really wasn't that different from every time he'd fantasized about her.

 _Rose,_ he groaned as he felt her tightening around him.

 _Yes, I know. Me too._

Just as he felt her beginning to flutter around him, he opened his eyes, leaning forward and exhaling sharply as he watched his completely untouched erection pulse and shoot thick streams of his seed against the wall. After rinsing, he stood for a moment in the stall with his forehead pressed against the tiles, basking in their combined and somewhat unexpected afterglow as his heart returned to its normal rhythm.

 _That was . . . I didn't know we could do that. How is such a thing possible?_

 _How can you hear my voice when the vibrations of my vocal cords aren't reaching your ears? The mind is a powerful thing. I've been . . . sort of saving that as a surprise._

 _Well,_ he said as he shut the water off, _color me surprised. Thank you._

 _I would say the pleasure was ours, dear._

 _Yes, it most certainly was._

After styling his hair and getting dressed, he spent a few moments inspecting his flushed cheeks in the tiny mirror. He was about to rejoin everyone upstairs when he felt Laura's mind grow alarmed.

 _What is it?_ he asked.

It took far too long, in his mind, for her to respond, _Noct just gave me a Cosmogony book he picked up for us right as we left Caem._

 _And what in it alarms you so?_ he asked, his heart filling with dread. How much more bad news could they expect in Altissia?

 _15: 2 "Nadir."_ _Ardyn is "the Wicked."_


	45. Chapter 45

The conversation had stopped long enough for Iggy to make up some lame-ass story about the five of them being students of the "culinary arts" to get through customs, but the second they passed through the pavilion, it picked back up again.

"So then him being infected _and_ immortal isn't a coincidence? It's not just some kinda freak accident?" Prompto asked.

"I don't think so, but as the source is a religious text, it's just as dubious as the almanac, if you ask me," Laura said, shaking her head. "This doesn't necessarily mean he's the source of the scourge on the planet. In fact, the book said that the soil and sky were already blighted when the Wicked was working the plague."

"But he practically straight up told you he was the bad guy!" Prompto argued, his voice raising in pitch and volume as he threw his hands in the air.

"Kindly keep your voice down," Iggy said, taking a left and leading them down the crowded street— hopefully toward the Leville.

Even though they hadn't really done all that much today, Noct was exhausted, and it felt like he had a headache coming on. He could only hope that didn't mean Leviathan was gonna start sending tidal waves as she tried to break into his mind like Titan had.

"He warned 'Shiva' that 'the leader' was the Wicked. Doubtless she would know the true story in its entirety and wouldn't need to rely on the Cosmogony for the truth. I'm speculating he was referring to himself because he's the only Starscourged immortal hanging around," Laura said. "I'm suspecting he's the darkness that Noct has to face to fulfill the prophecy, though."

"Speculation is a dangerous tool," Iggy said. "I'd sooner not rely on it."

"Yeah, not that I trust the guy at all, but if he's 'the darkness,' why hasn't he made a real move toward us?" Gladio asked.

"Yeah, he's actually been helping us, even if he's been a pain in the ass about it," Noct added.

"Language," Iggy gently reminded him, "and do keep in mind that he's threatened Laura on more than one occasion and implied that he's done something to Ifrit. I'm certainly not suggesting that he isn't highly dangerous."

"Threatened with what though? Every time we see him, he doesn't do anything but flirt with her," Prompto said.

"Don't think killing her with his pickup game is what he was implying, but Prompto's got a point," Gladio said. "Could he just be bluffing to cover for the Emperor? The Emperor was the one who attacked Insomnia, and he's the one sending us troops for target practice all the time."

Laura skimmed her fingers over the concrete bridge rail as they crossed over a canal, looking out over the water to watch a gondola pass underneath them. "I don't know. Ardyn wants something from us, and instinct is screaming at me not to trust him, even if he hasn't shown a hint of violence." She let out a sigh. "This is where the ability to figure things out in time would really come in handy."

"You got any insights, Specs?" Noct asked, turning to Ignis.

He frowned before replying, "I'm afraid not, regretfully."

"Nor is it your responsibility to know everything about everything," Laura said sternly, pointing a finger at him. "This story is old, complex, and hidden, and the onus is on _all_ of us to keep our eyes and ears open."

"Yeah," Noct said. "Don't worry about it. Whatever happens, happens."

"Noct is right . . . for once," Laura said, shooting him a teasing grin. He was about to protest and give her a shove, but her face grew serious and sad. "As much as I hate it, we just have to wait until we're presented directly with the problem. Story of my life. Guess it gets to be the story of yours now, too."

"Well, 'the problem' is probably gonna show up here at some point. Ardyn said he and Ravus had business with Leviathan," Gladio said. "Stop Noct from getting her blessing."

"Yes," Iggy agreed as they drew closer to a red-awninged building that proudly displayed the stylized L of the Leville chain. "All the more reason to keep a weather eye on all we can."

This Leville looked a lot nicer than the one they'd been staying at in Lestallum—still old, but better taken care of, with more of an effort put into making it at least kinda feel luxurious. It'd never be as nice as even his apartment back home, but Noct had grown used to roughing it these past couple months. He'd take anywhere with a bed and a real bathroom over a haven any day.

He'd angled himself to stride straight to the check-in counter, but as he passed through the open entryway into the plushly-carpeted lobby, he caught sight of Umbra and Gentiana waiting for him next to the bench in the middle of the room, and he pivoted to change his direction.

"Gentiana," he greeted.

Instead of greeting them all in return, Gentiana lowered her head and bent over Umbra, stroking the dog's fluffy neck.

"Ahead lies a future uncertain," she said quietly, "yet sure is the astral memory, wherein the King may walk."

When she straightened, she held out a fist to him, and for a half a second, he thought she wanted to . . . fist bump him? It made the same amount of sense as whatever it was she'd just said. But he figured she maybe wanted to give him something, so he held out a hand as the rest of the group behind him drew closer to look. He felt a small, cool, metal object fall into his palm, and he pulled back his hand to see what looked like a dog tag about the size of a gil with a pawprint stamped on it.

"What does that even mean?" he asked, looking back up at her, but she and Umbra had already disappeared. That sucked. Why'd she keep doing that? He wished she'd stuck around long enough to explain herself, maybe even answer whether she knew anything about Ardyn or the Wicked.

"Pleasure as always, Gentiana" Laura said sarcastically, waving a hand in the air. "Thanks for the detailed info!"

Iggy leaned in close to Noct's open hand, tilting his head and squinting at the amulet. "That golden power of Eos," he comented under his breath before turning to Laura.

"Feels like it," Laura agreed, but Noct couldn't see how they could tell—especially Iggy. "I'm guessing she was referring to the past when she said 'astral memory,' to contrast with 'future uncertain.' May I see it?"

"A 'time-traveling opportunity'?" Iggy asked as Noct placed the amulet into her open palm.

"Let's check. Best not to do this directly in sight of everyone," she said as she headed for the dark corner behind the staircase. "Would you all mind putting those muscles to good use and blocking me from view?"

"Sure thing!" Prompto said, moving to stand in front of her. Noct had to roll his eyes a little as he stood at an angle to her. Prompto was only like, an inch taller than she was and didn't do too much to hide her from view. Once Gladio and Iggy had taken their places and actually did most of the work making sure she was hidden, Laura gripped the pendant in her fist and closed her eyes. Before she'd opened them again, Noct knew that she'd summoned that freaky gold power, since it always made his fingertips tingle and his arms burn a little.

Her expression was blank as she stared up at the ceiling, but the bright blue of her eyes was veined in swirls of gold as she said in a low, quiet voice, "Looks like it uses Umbra to take us back to Lucis a couple of days before we left . . . in your dreams?"

She shook her head, clearing the gold, before handing the amulet back to him. "It's a complex bit of magic, erasing the awareness of our past selves each time we return so there aren't hundreds of us running around Lucis bumping into each other, but the effects of our past selves remain part of the timeline. Even the people we interact with will remember it as a dream, if at all."

"Guess we know we're gonna use it at some point, if Ig has to put the drawing in the diary," Gladio said.

"It sounds as though we'll all be able to go together this time," Iggy said, looking to Laura. "Is there any danger in using such an item?"

"I've never seen an item combine dream magic with temporal mechanics like this before, but the design is actually quite elegant; it should prevent any paradoxes."

"So what do I do if I wanna go back?" Noct asked.

"Just call Umbra when you're ready for bed, I think. The amulet contains a strong telepathic link with him."

"We should probably handle this after the rite, though. The timing would be better."

Iggy's brow shot down sharply as he frowned. " _After_ the rite, did you say? I'm to complete this drawing _after_ the rite?"

"Uhh . . . yeah. That okay?" Noct asked. Usually that face meant Specs was upset with him about something, but his words didn't sound like it.

Iggy's eyes darted to Laura and back to him almost instantly, and Noct noticed that even Laura seemed confused by whatever was going on. "Y—yes, Highness," he said hesitantly, his expression still hard. "As you wish."

"It's gonna be all right this time, Specs," he reassured him, "We're all gonna go together." Pointing a thumb back toward the desk, he said, "Why don't I go check us in?"

As the guy at the desk was getting him the key to their room, Gladio appeared beside him. "Hey," he said leaning in close, "I've been thinking about Iggy and Laura."

"Yeah?"

He'd been thinking about Iggy and Laura, too. Not only had he fucked up yesterday, but he'd probably started some kinda fight between the two of them. And while those two _always_ seemed to fight, it was usually about history or science or something—not like, real stuff. That had been his fault, just like Ravatogh had been his fault, just like Iggy's entire life had been his fault, and damn it, as weird as it was that Iggy was part of a pair now, he didn't wanna come between them and ruin something else for him.

He didn't see why Specs felt the need to hide how serious it had gotten, except maybe to make Noct feel better about the whole thing? He'd been trying to think of some kinda gesture— _something_ he could do to show he was okay with this relationship, strange as it was to him, but so far, he hadn't been able to think of anything.

"Well, you know how he was back in Insomnia. Guy worked his ass off since he was a kid. Hasn't had much fun in his life," Gladio said, glowering.

"Yeah," he muttered. Noct knew this all too well now, but he didn't see what Gladio was getting at.

"Well, we're in this romantic city. He's got a girlfriend for the first time in his life, but they've both been camping and sleeping in rooms with the rest of us. They've been pretty good about not making it awkward, either. I was thinking maybe you should do something for 'em."

"Yeah, me too. Got any ideas though?"

"Well, I know you wanna visit the Arena in a coupla days, and knowing you, you'll wanna be there all damn day."

"Gladio, get to the point," he said, taking the key from the clerk and turning to face Gladio directly.

"Well, that's not gonna be Laura's thing. So I was thinking maybe a couple of nights from now after we've settled in, get 'em their own room and give 'em off the next day while we go to the Arena."

It seemed like a good idea; it wasn't like they were gonna need either of them until the day of the rite, and they still needed to talk to whoever was in charge here before they could even set a date for that. Seemed like this was the perfect thing he could do as his gesture—give Iggy some of his life back, and maybe he'd find more excuses to hang out at the Arena and send them off on their own thing while they were in town.

"Good idea," he said with a nod. "I'll make a reservation for a couple of nights from now. Should give us enough time to see what's around."

* * *

Despite being some kind of multiverse-hopping time traveler, Laura seemed charmed by the city as they meandered the streets to the gondola stop to make their way to Weskham's after breakfast the following morning.

"It's almost as though Paris and Venice had a child city, but with that touch of fantasy," she sighed as she leaned over a bridge just outside the hotel to watch a passing gondola. "The architecture with the waterfalls . . . just lovely. And the scent! Bread, pastries, and flowers on the air—who could ask for better than that? I can practically taste a pâtisserie with every breath!"

"Yeah," Prompto also sighed. "I woulda thought the city with all the canals would make it smell kinda nasty, but this is great."

"This place does possess a certain dreamlike quality," Iggy agreed, coming up behind her to look out over the bridge, "but I believe the infrastructure is in much better condition than Venice—and far cleaner than both Venice and Paris."

Since Noct had never heard of Venice or Paris and didn't know when Iggy had done any reports on cities by those names, he refrained from commenting.

As they wove their way through the colorful buildings covered in flower boxes, stalls selling everything from souvenirs to pastries to flowers, and all the people milling about in the streets, it seemed like everyone was talking about Luna's wedding dress on display.

"They're extending the exhibit for Lady Lunafreya's wedding dress."

"The Vivienne Westwood? But wasn't that a memorial for her passing?"

"Well, now it's a memorial for her safe return. Let's go see it while we still can!"

"If the Prince is still alive, they should go ahead with the wedding."

"Yeah, they just need him to show up. Doesn't he know it's rude to keep a lady waiting?"

Prompto hit Noct a couple of times on the shoulder, asking, "Could that be the dress we read about in the papers back in Galdin?"

"Doubtless," Iggy replied. "The designer's name is the same—one of Altissia's most foremost fashion designers."

"You guys think we should go see it? I was supposed to get a picture of it one way or another," Prompto said, nudging Noct's elbow with a wink.

"That depends on the groom. Might still be a sore spot, what with his wedding getting called off," Gladio said.

"Who says we can't call it back on?" Prompto asked. "It can still happen!"

"Yeah, sure, I guess." Noct said with a sigh. "Depends on what Weskham has for us though. Probably has some hunts or something."

Noct didn't really see what the big deal was. Even though it might've been kinda interesting to see what Luna had picked out to wear for him when they got married, he didn't understand why the entire town was freaking out about it—it was just a bunch of fabric someone else was gonna wear for their own wedding, not the public's.

It took a few minutes talking with the gondola driver before they figured out where exactly they were going. Noct thought the guy was being deliberately stupid when he couldn't figure out that 'Magoo's Diner' was actually supposed to be 'Maagho Café,' but whatever. Laura seemed to get it straightened out when she asked for Weskham's establishment, and when she started asking about the guy's life, 'Steve' was only too happy to chat them up until they started talking among themselves again.

"The Archaean's awakening resulted in the destruction of the Disc, yet the government proceeds with the rite. There's more to this than we understand," Iggy said from the couch at the back of the gondola.

"I imagine relations are complex, what with them being independent yet occupied by the Empire," Laura said. "And it seems both we and the Empire want to awaken Leviathan, so they have little choice."

Noct leaned over the back of his armchair to look back at them both and said, "We'll see what Weskham has to say about it when we get there."

"And then perhaps we should see about begging an audience with Camelia Claustra, the First Secretary of the Accordo Protectorate. Though it sounds as though we have her tentative cooperation, we'll need to coordinate to ensure both your and Lady Lunafreya's safety during the rite."

"Guess we could do that after."

They ended up learning more than they expected to at Weskham's, but not really that much from Weskham himself that they didn't already know—only the hunts in the area and that Luna would be making an address to the Accordion citizens before the rite took place. But while they were waiting for Iggy and Laura to finish buying bottles of wine for them all that evening and gushing over all the ingredients available at the gondola markets surrounding Maagho, Camelia saved them the trouble of tracking her down by showing up at the café.

She raised her chin in the air, trying to look down at Noct with cold eyes, but Noct had seen this tactic from a lot of people in his life, and he glared right back.

"Gentlemen, I won't waste your time. My name is Camelia Claustra. You should know we have Lady Lunafreya in our care, and the Empire demands we surrender her," she said.

Noct couldn't think of anything to say back. It didn't really matter what this lady thought, because there was no way the Empire was gonna get their hands on Luna, even if they had to fight Accordo in addition to the Empire. He'd seen Iggy get results by remaining neutral with people, so he decided to go with Iggy's strategy.

"What?" he asked, hoping she would say more.

"Yet I am loath to acquiesce unless we stand to profit. Hence, I've come to discuss terms with the King of Lucis. If you've a mind to talk, come to my estate. Five o'clock this evening, perhaps?"

"We'll be there," Noct said in a firm voice, standing just as straight as she was and staring her down.

"Good," she replied with a nod. "Perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement."

Weskham paused in polishing a glass and watched Camelia's retreating back as she strode back to her gondola, her heels thunking rhythmically on the wooden dock of the café. "She can be oblique at the best of times, but I assure you, her heart is in the right place," he said.

"Yeah, sure," Noct mumbled. From where he was standing, with her holding Luna's safety over his head, he wasn't really sure about where her heart was. "Come on guys, let's go."

It wasn't until they'd gotten back on the gondola that anyone spoke. "It kinda sounds like they're holding Lady Lunafreya hostage or something," Prompto said. "I hope she's okay."

"The First Secretary didn't strike me as the sort to be cruel. Compared to her time in Niflheim-occupied Tenebrae, Lady Lunafreya is likely being well-treated," Iggy said. "Still, I don't appreciate that she even implied that giving the Oracle to Niflheim was an option."

"Consider the position she's in. She has a powerful empire on one side of her people and a king and the gods on the other. She needs to feel like she has something to bargain with so she can protect her citizens," Laura said. "That kind of desperation is probably forcing her to play a hard and fast game she doesn't want to play."

"Well, our appointment should get whatever she wants to discuss out of the way," Noct said. "Luna comes first, and there's no way she's gonna get handed over to the Empire. Ig, you need to do any research before the meeting or something?"

"I imagine negotiations would go more smoothly after getting some insight into her motivations, yes, Highness."

"Well, we got pretty much all day. All our hunts are daemons, so we can take care of those after we meet with her," Gladio said.

"Can we visit the dress on the way back to the hotel though? I've been itchin' to get some pictures of stuff besides city streets and buildings," Prompto said, raising a hand.

Noct rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, let's go see what all the fuss is about."

The place was easy to find, even if it wasn't really on the way back to the hotel, because as they descended the last flight of stairs that would take them to the street the shop was supposed to be on, it was the only window on the whole block that was surrounded by people.

"One helluva crowd!" Prompto remarked as they threaded their way through the people milling around in front of the window, over which was situated the curling gold letters that identified it as _Vivienne Westwood_.

"Oh, the dress is so beautiful! I want mine to be like that," a woman gushed as they maneuvered past her.

"And it _shall_ be my love—as surely as I am your Prince Noctis," replied the man in a gooey tone as he walked along beside her, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

Gladio smirked down at Noct and said, "Looks like the Prince has quite the following too."

"Ugh, that's disgusting," Noct said with a grimace. He sure hoped people weren't like, trying to re-enact some kind of fairytale romance with the two of them as characters. How creepy would that be?

"Escapism," Laura said with a nod. "Sometimes, celebrities' lives are all people have to cling to as a distraction from the darkness of their own. It just happens, Noct. Best to ignore it."

"Yeah? Let's see if you say the same thing when we get the town re-enacting yours and Iggy's relationship."

"Please," she scoffed. "If you were to believe the story of my lore everywhere I've been, I've been happily and unhappily married to more genders and species than you have a name for, including close family relations. I've cheated on spouses, murdered spouses, used their bones to create the universe . . . there's nothing you could make up about me that could shock me anymore."

"And that's the dress. My word," Ignis breathed in awe, probably to change the subject more than anything. But Noct followed his gaze and caught sight of Luna's bright white dress as though there were a spotlight making it stand out from everything else on the rest of the street.

He took a couple of steps toward the window, reaching out a hand to touch the glass separating him from the mannequin and angular layers of white fabric. It wasn't really the dress itself that captured his imagination. To him, it was just still a dress, but he imagined the day Luna must've sat down with the designer, or whatever someone did when making a dress like this. Did she choose the design in the hope that he would like seeing her in it? How much was he on her mind as she picked out her shoes, veil, and jewelry?

She'd been willing to become his wife for the rest of her life as the symbol of peace; just how much did she care for him to agree to that? She'd somehow gotten the Ring out of Insomnia. She'd started forging the covenants with the Six, and he knew from experience now just how much contact with the gods took out of a mortal. She'd escaped from the Empire, hiding as she traveled Lucis to meet with Titan and Ramuh before coming here. Her journey seemed to have been just as rough as their own, if not more so. He could've brushed the idea off as he'd always done, thinking she'd only agreed out of obligation, but everything she'd done since Insomnia fell proved she was willing to go to extremes—just like Gladio, Iggy, and Prompto—to keep him safe.

Did all that really mean that she loved him as much as they loved him? Why? Everything that made him special he'd been born with: his title, his destiny, pretty much everything that made him Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum. What was it that these people saw in him that made him worth following, and how could he become that person? He'd do anything if it meant not letting them down, if it meant not letting her down. He'd promised, after all.

"Everyone looks so happy," Prompto said. "And it's all because of this one dress. Real glad for you that Lady Lunafreya's safe and sound."

Noct had been rushing into this ever since his dad had announced the treaty, but he hadn't really given any thought to what a marriage to Luna would mean. He was supposed to become her husband. Keeping her safe was supposed become part of his duty. He hadn't done much to ensure it lately; it had pretty much been the other way around.

"Yeah," he said so quietly he didn't think anyone had heard him.

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder and looked up to see Ignis staring down at him, his expression soft, serious, and burning with some kind of intensity Noct couldn't understand. Iggy's eyes flickered in Laura's direction for a split second before meeting Noct's again.

"And we'll ensure she remains so," Ignis said.

"Well that settles it," Gladio said, stepping up behind him and slapping him hard on the shoulder. "You gotta make it happen—become a symbol of the peace. After we tie up all the loose ends, let's think about the ceremony."

"A fine idea," Ignis replied with a nod.

Noct let his gaze drift to the portrait of Luna hanging just behind the dress. He had so many pictures of her that she'd sent in the diary over the years, but this one was close-up and larger than life. Her bright golden hair was pulled back, except for the part up front that seemed to want to fall into her shining blue eyes. Her sweet smile seemed to light up her entire face, and he wondered what had made her happy like that.

It had been so long since he'd seen her. Could he make her happy like that? She was about to become a _real_ person in his life, not just a girl in a book. Did he love her enough to marry her of his own free will now that it wasn't required? What even _was_ love, anyway? He'd really only just started understanding what he shared with Iggy, Gladio, and Prompto on this trip, and he was sure he felt that for Luna too. But the kinda feelings that made someone get married? That was different.

"Yeah," he mumbled, "I'll think about it."

Noct caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Prompto jumping up and down, pointing at a poster. Noct couldn't see what it said from his spot in front of the dress, but he could make out the curls of swooping calligraphy and an image of a mask on the glossy paper.

"Hey, look guys!" Prompto almost shouted, still pointing and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Says there's gonna be a masquerade ball tomorrow night in honor of Lady Lunafreya's return! Looks like the whole town's gonna dress up, but only the high rollers get an invite to the estate. Can we pleeeease go, Noct? I've never been to a fancy ball! We could get dressed up in costumes and take pictures and dance the night away!"

"Whaddya say, Noct? It'll be different than Insomnia, and maybe a good place to find a date," Gladio said in a thick, oozing voice, elbowing him in the ribs.

"I dunno," Noct said with a frown.

He'd had enough of royal functions back home; they were so godsdamn boring and uncomfortable—all the small talk, the people gawping at him, Iggy getting on his ass about everything from his table manners to every word that came out of his mouth. During his birthday ball last year, he'd accidentally gotten powdered sugar on his raiment, and the press had had a field day about the 'dubious nature' of his and Iggy's relationship when they caught them with cameras behind a fake tree as Iggy used his wet handkerchief to get the white patch out of his black fabric. But maybe this could be different, since it wasn't like he'd be the center of attention at this one. There'd probably be great food, and they could always slip out early if it got boring.

"What do you guys think?" he asked, turning to Iggy and Laura. If they seemed interested, he could turn it into another nice thing he could do for them.

Laura looked up to Ignis and tilted her head, giving him a slow, wide smile. "I always heard that the Royal Chamberlain attended more functions than anyone in the kingdom. I believe I'd like to dance with a man that has so much experience."

Iggy ducked his head and looked down at his feet, but Noct caught the flash of pink on his cheeks and the twitch of a smile on his lips. Seemed like they'd gotten past whatever fight they'd gotten into because of him, at least.

When Iggy looked back up, his expression was serious, but there was still color on his face as he answered, "I suppose attending will serve some very small measure in helping us blend in. I'm certain the First Secretary will extend us an invitation to her manor if negotiations go well."

"Yeah! Blending in! Come on, Noct . . . pleeeease?" Prompto pleaded.

"All right then, we'll go to the ball," Noct sighed wearily, rolling his eyes. "Did you pack us formalwear that doesn't include royal raiment, Specs?"

"You wound me, Highness," Ignis said, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. "I did indeed pack appropriate attire for the two of us, and formalwear was included on the list I sent to both Gladio and Prompto."

"Brought my tux, so you know I'm gonna look hot," Gladio said as he bobbed his head.

Prompto grimaced a little, his hands fidgeting in front of him as he answered, "I mean . . . I brought the best stuff I have. Should be good."

"What you brought will do just fine, Prompto. I did check it over before we left, and there are also a few things we can supplement from Noct's wardrobe, if necessary," Iggy reassured him. He looked down at Laura. "I assume you and your Pocket have something appropriate?"

"There are at least a dozen things I could wear in there."

"I confess I didn't have the foresight to bring masks, however. Perhaps the four of you could choose a mask for me while I return to the hotel and begin my research?"

"Yeah, we could do that, no problem," Gladio said.

"I actually already have a mask, so no need for me to go shopping," Laura said. "Not my first masquerade, you can imagine. There was this one time I had to stop these Receptalians, man-eating trashcans, during Carnival in Venice . . . never mind, long story, as always." She turned to Ignis and said quietly, "I have a mask I believe would suit you perfectly, if you care to use it."

"If you believe it appropriate, then I should very much appreciate that," he returned in a soft tone.

"All right, so the three of us can go get masks while you two get started on the research," Noct said. He might've thought Laura and Iggy were just angling to get some time alone, but he knew Iggy. No way was he gonna slack on a task when there was work to be done. And since Laura did all that research so fast on Insomnia when she'd arrived, they'd probably have a good strategy by the time they got back.

"Ignis can probably handle his research back at the hotel," Laura said. "My version is a bit different. I'll be at the Secretary's estate."

"All right, whatever," he said, not even wanting to know the details of _that_ plan. "Just don't get caught or piss anyone off. We'll meet up at the room around lunch then."

* * *

Specs was sitting at the ornately carved desk in the corner when they opened the door to their room a few hours later, his laptop open and papers stacked in two neat piles in front of him.

"Here Ig, brought ya lunch," Prompto said, handing him a horntooth meat pie. "It's one of your favorites, isn't it?"

"Why, yes, it is. Thank you Prompto."

"Where's Laura? Harder to tell what her favorite stuff is, but we got her this salad that has like, all this stuff in it. Seemed up her alley."

"She should be returning any moment," Iggy said before taking a bite of his pie and chewing appreciatively.

"Were you able to find anything on the Secretary?" Noct asked.

Ignis set the pie down on the wrapper and sighed. "I'm afraid there isn't much reliable information to be found in written records. Most of what I uncovered was speculation from gossip and similarly questionable sources. Camelia Claustra, First Secretary of Accordo, aged forty-eight—"

The door opened, and Noct's eyes flickered to the new addition before turning back to Iggy. He'd thought it might've been Laura returning from the Secretary's estate, but it had only been a maid coming in to clean the room.

Ignis's eyes seemed to follow every movement of the maid behind Noct as he continued speaking, and Noct was surprised that he would keep carrying the conversation on with a stranger in the room like that. But he guessed the topic wasn't all that sensitive. "Impressions on several political sites show her to be rather stern, but fair-minded. She has the reputation for placing the needs of her people first, and for that, she is well-respected despite continued Imperial manipulation of the nation."

"We could do something with that," Gladio said. "At least we know her priorities, which'll be good leverage from a negotiation standpoint."

Noct could feel the presence of the maid hovering behind him—hear her breath, feel the shift of her weight on the plush carpet, smell her perfume. What the hell?

"Hey, would ya mind?" he snapped, turning to face her and shoo her out of the room. He hoped she wasn't waiting for a tip or something, especially with how rude she was being. He froze, however, when he finally turned to face her, his mouth dropping open in shock.

She stepped back, her eyes going wide. "Sorry."

"Noct?" Iggy asked in concern.

It was Laura, looking more ordinary than he'd ever seen her, in a utilitarian short-sleeved black dress that ended just past her knees and a white apron that tied around the back of her neck and waist. Her hair was slicked back and pulled into a tight, severe bun. She never wore stuff like makeup, but there was something about the rough fabric of her outfit, the simplicity of her hairstyle, and even the chunkiness of her shoes that made her face look like every other human chambermaid at the Citadel. He couldn't believe that after traveling with her for over two months, seeing her for hours on end every day, an outfit change was all it took for him to just overlook her like that.

"Oh . . . it's . . . you," he stammered awkwardly. "Sorry. I thought you were . . .."

"You thought I was a maid," she said with a smirk. "The art of disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight. That's the trouble with uniforms and name badges, people stop looking at faces. Honestly, you lot would be better off with clown outfits—at least they'd be satirically relevant."

"Yeah, that wouldn't be creepy as fuck," Gladio muttered, but then his expression turned downright pornographic as he looked her up and down. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have a feather duster and a pair of fishnet stockings in that Pocket of yours, would ya? Maybe some stilettos?"

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head, her eyes narrowing in a predatory expression. She stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest, looking up at him. Her voice grew soft and seductive as she purred, "You plan on giving Ignis the night of his life? I don't think what I have would fit you."

"May the Archaean bury me alive," Iggy muttered, bringing a stack of notes to his forehead to cover his face. "Kindly omit me from this . . . suggestiveness, if you please."

"So!" Prompto interrupted, thrusting the salad container between her and Gladio. "What were you doin' today, Laura? Dusting furniture?" He laughed uncomfortably as she took it from him and smiled brightly.

"Cheers. Thanks, Prom, this was thoughtful of you." She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, transforming his face into a tomato as he glanced in Iggy's direction, before she settled down on the couch next to the desk. "Oh, this is lovely. I don't recognize half of what's in here, but try this, Ignis."

She held her fork out to him, and he leaned to take a bite. Noct had gotten the impression they were far more than fuck buddies back in Ravatogh, but seeing them do something . . . coupley like sharing eating utensils was kinda shocking.

"Hmm," he said, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing. "Reminds me of the one we had with the goat cheese and cranberries. But wait a moment." His keen eyes narrowed at her as they swept from her feet to the top of her head. "I've seen you dressed in that very same costume before."

Her gaze was wide and innocent as she replied, "I didn't think you'd remember."

"All this time, and you never thought to bring it up? I'd asked you so many times where I'd met you before."

"You didn't spare me a second glance!" she argued. "I honestly thought you'd recognized me from the library!"

"Well, you were obviously mistaken," he said, pointing his pie accusingly at her. "I recall you distinctly, now that I've seen you in that costume."

"Ignis," she sighed. "Think about it from my perspective. When you were asking me where you'd met me, you thought I was a Lucian noble, then a noble of some other country. I could hardly tell you that _that_ was our true first meeting. And then after the paradoxis, I didn't think to bring it up again."

"Uh, guys?" Prompto asked hesitantly. "Explanation? That'd be great."

Ignis looked over at Prompto. "The chef had allowed me the use of the kitchen for the evening to make Noct's pastries not three nights before we left." He set down his pie in favor of pointing an accusing finger at Laura, his voice growing disbelieving as he said, "And _that_ woman was scrubbing the kitchen floors and . . . chatting up the Poissonnier!"

"Well, when I said I researched the Crown City before offering my help, you didn't really think that meant just sitting in a library, did you? Domestic approach, that's always been my way. And I had to avoid Crystal servants, didn't I? _You_ shouldn't have been in the kitchen!"

Iggy spluttered before answering, "Well, did this _domestic approach_ of yours yield any fruitful information?"

She turned to Noct. "Well, I wasn't dusting furniture. I was changing linens today, actually, which is how I ended up speaking to Lunafreya."

"What? How did you—Is she all right?" Noct jumped up from his chair and stared down at her, his breath seeming to grow ragged, even if he didn't know why. Why had she waited so long to say this?

"She's fine, Noct," she said gently. "She sends her love. She's actually staying as a guest, not a prisoner, of the Secretary at the estate, though she expects that to change as soon as the Empire arrives for the rite. I was sent to her room to change her bedding."

"So she's safe," he sighed and collapsed back down in his chair. "She's happy though, considering?"

Laura hesitated, and he didn't like the look that crossed her face as she answered. "She's been through a lot. Those covenants take a lot out of a person, as you know. But I told her that we were planning to attend the masquerade at the estate tomorrow night. She's gotten us invitations, and she's having Gentiana secure her a costume that should sufficiently hide her identity."

"Wait, she's going to the masquerade?" Noct asked hopefully.

"That's not a good idea," Gladio said. "The place is sure to be crawling with Nifs."

"She'll only make an appearance for a couple of minutes. It's not like she'll be handing the Ring over or anything. She told me that she'd search you out; don't try to go looking for her and attract attention."

Noct closed his eyes and sighed. This was better than anything he could hope for, given the situation. Not only was she safe, she was free, for now. He never dreamed that he'd get to see her even publicly before the rite began. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"It was my pleasure, Noct, really. You guys deserve so much more than what fate has dealt you," she said. Yeah, whether he and Luna would've gotten together if it weren't for this stupid-ass prophecy, they both deserved better than what they'd had to put up with their whole lives, especially Luna.

"There's still the matter of this negotiation this afternoon," Ignis said, leaning back into the desk chair. "While my research gave us a start in her possible motivations, I'm hoping you were able to dig deeper into her more personal ambitions."

"Yes, I believe I can expand on your research," she said. Her eyes caught Noct's.

"She respected the hell out of your father, so the more you're able to channel him while you speak, the more cooperative she'll be. I get the impression she and Weskham are better friends than they let on, too.

"She knows Accordo has no future with the Empire controlling things, so chances are good she'll hand Lunafreya over to you and allow you to go through with the rite, but knowing how protective she is of her people, she'll probably want something in return on their behalf. I'd take her request very, very seriously if you want her cooperation."

"How the blazes did you manage to learn all that in four hours in a house you didn't even have clearance to be in?" Ignis asked in disbelief.

She gave him a cheeky grin. "The domestic approach—no one's gonna question a new maid, and the servants know _everything._ Just imagine how much dirt you could dish on Noct if you guys had loose tongues."

Gladio snorted and said, "Plenty," as Prompto snickered in agreement.

"Yeah, like maybe how awesome I am," Noct retorted, pushing Prompto off the arm of his chair and laughing.

Gladio rolled his eyes. "Give me a break."

"And I, as well," Ignis replied smoothly before turning to Laura. "Forgive me, but those sources hardly sound more reliable than gossip sites."

"Much more reliable than that!" she said indignantly, raising her chin. "But if you must know, spent an hour cleaning the Secretary's office as well. Is that direct enough a source for ya?"

"Well . . . yes, I suppose it rather is."

"So, whaddya say, Specs? We got enough research, I think. Let's go explore the rest of the city," Noct said.

"Yes," Iggy replied with a sharp nod. "We can head straight to the estate when the hour of our appointment draws near."

* * *

"Seems kinda weird she'd request four people to help with evacuations when she knows there're only four of us. Who else are you gonna choose?" Prompto asked as they were bowed out of the Secretary's grand entrance later that evening.

Noct took a moment to turn back, looking up at the dozens of windows looming over them. Was Luna in one of those rooms looking down at them as they left? He couldn't see anyone, so he turned, kicking up the white gravel as he dragged his feet past the guarded gate and back onto the street. With some luck, he'd get to see her up close tomorrow night.

Noct shrugged. "Probably her way of saying you should prioritize this over me, I guess."

He still couldn't really understand why she was allowing the possible destruction of her entire city so they could awaken Leviathan, but hey, if she was cooperating and taking care of Luna, they weren't really in a position to question her or the demands she was making on them.

"I don't care for it. While the citizens' safety is our highest priority, there should be at least one of us at the altar with you," Ignis said. "Both you and Lady Lunafreya will be the focus of this entire ordeal, and you need someone to watch your backs, particularly if Lord Ravus and the Chancellor decide to meet you at the altar."

"I'll be fine. I can take care of myself and Luna. I have Titan and Ramuh on my side if anything goes wrong. And it's not like Ravus is gonna hurt his sister."

"At least Laura convinced her to hold the speech the day before so the entire city isn't just standing around the center before the rite begins," Gladio said, nodding to her. "That was a good call. Can't believe she was gonna do that."

"Well, she did mention that Accordo doesn't have much of a military with tactical experience," Iggy said as they passed through a covered bridge, their footsteps echoing through the tunnel until they emerged out into the crowded street. "That they would create such a foolhardy plan speaks to that."

They turned a corner, and Noct pulled out his map, tired of thinking about the covenant. He'd feel better about it when it was over, and maybe Luna could join them for the rest of their trip. True, she wouldn't be safe where they were headed, but they could keep each other safer together than apart.

"So where are these hunts?" he asked. "If we start now and work all night, we can get them all knocked out and take a break until the rite."

"It wouldn't be terribly inconvenient to take care of them over two days if we need to," Ignis said. "Let us take them one at a time and see how things go, shall we?"

But with the five of them working as a team, they were able to knock out most of the hunts in a little over six hours. The haunted painting was one of the stranger ones they'd done, but while Laura muttered something about Hindu religions, Prompto was the one gushing over the photos he had taken for Vyv when they'd finished, despite being terrified the entire time they were battling the naked woman. "If we use Umbra, we'll have to go show these to him! I can't wait to see what he thinks!"

"Yeah, maybe, Prom. So the last two hunts are actually in the same location—three alvs and two salpinxes. They should be just around the corner here." Noct said.

As they drew near, he signaled for them to line up against the wall as he pressed his back into the masonry and slowly peeked around the corner. The moonlit courtyard was surrounded on all sides by the high walls of the buildings, which were decorated with the paned windows and flower boxes he'd seen everywhere in the city. In the center of the square, a raised bed of flowers grew around a multi-tiered fountain, its splashing water glowing silver in the light from above as it dripped merrily down to the lower levels, filling the courtyard with the cheery echoes of trickling splashes.

Noct had never seen daemons in their 'natural habitat—' what they did when there were no humans around to attack. They usually popped up out of the ground when they arrived, so it was weird to see the five of them dancing happily around the edges of the square, swiping vicious claws at each other in what looked like play. They'd almost be kinda cute if they weren't also deadly. This particular group had been responsible for more than thirty disappearances lately, so no matter how peaceful they were in that moment, the group had a responsibility to the city to take them out.

"Yep," he whispered back to the others. "They're there." He summoned his sword, crouching forward and preparing to leap into the open square, but he felt a hand land on his shoulder before he could move.

"Wait," Laura whispered, and as he turned to look back to see what the problem was, she looked up at Ignis behind her.

Iggy's eyes went wide. "Now?" he asked.

"There is no better time. We'll be here to back you up if anything goes wrong. There are five of them, so it's the perfect opportunity to experiment."

"You guys wanna fill us in here?" Noct growled impatiently. They were all standing around the corner from five daemons, and this was no time for Laura and Iggy to be doing their cryptic couple thing.

Iggy stared at Laura for a moment, his eyes growing hard and serious before nodding and looking over at Noct. "With your permission, Highness, I should like to attempt this one on my own."

Noct couldn't come up with any words to reply that wasn't an immediate 'Are you nuts?!,' so he stood still, waiting on the off-chance this was just him trying out some new form of humor.

It was Gladio who reacted first, and in pretty much the same way Noct wanted to. "Iggy, have you lost your fucking mind?" he growled, trying his best to yell at Iggy in a soft voice so he wouldn't be overheard by the daemons. "I'm not even confident I could take all of 'em without at least one of you for backup."

"You're aware that I've been receiving private instruction for months now, are you not?" Ignis asked, exasperation lacing his tone.

Prompto blinked in surprise. "Uh . . . no actually. I mean, we noticed you were improving—taking less potions and stuff. Chalked it up to all the experience we were getting in the field."

"So what did you think Laura and I were doing every morning?" he asked.

The three of them were silent for a second before Gladio responded with, "Fucking in the woods, Ig," and both Noct and Prompto let out quiet snorts of laughter.

Had they all really been wrong about the two of them this entire time? It seemed like they always were. But that meant all those times they'd come back talking dirty to each other hadn't really been dirty after all, and _that_ part, at least, made more sense. Noct didn't figure Iggy for any kind of public display, and he was shocked the first couple of times they'd come back from their morning sessions casually talking about thrust techniques and lickings.

"Oh my gods," Laura said, shaking her head with a smile as Iggy suddenly seemed to need to lower his head and spread his hand wide over his glasses to adjust them. "Listen, I think he'll do fine, and if he doesn't, we can jump in."

She turned to Iggy then, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking up at him. "But I'm confident that even if your most recently acquired skills don't work out, you'll still be able to dance with them."

That was a weird way of putting it, but Noct had heard her say that to Ignis before. Of course, he'd died right after that, so her suggestion that he dance wasn't exactly encouraging.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Noct asked, and Iggy nodded, his face still hard and resolved. "All right, I guess."

As he moved to take Noct's place at the corner, he turned back to Noct, his expression transforming into a mischievous smirk. "Well, well, let us begin, shall we?" Without another word, he jumped out from behind the wall and sprinted into the square, summoning the plunderers Cid had upgraded before they'd left Caem as he came to a halt. The daemons, hearing his echoing footsteps and following his path toward the fountain with their glowing yellow eyes, turned on him and began creeping toward him in slow, predatory steps.

"Guy's lost his mind. What the fuck did you do to him?" Gladio growled at Laura.

"Shut up and watch," Laura snapped before darting to the other side of the entrance so she could get a better view.

"Oooh, I don't like this," Prompto said nervously, summoning his pistol.

Laura nodded at Prompto, but said, "Just remember, don't step in until he needs us. Neither of us will be particularly happy if you do."

Rather than argue with her, Noct turned back to keep an eye on Iggy as the other three crowded up behind him to watch. Iggy was bent over near the middle of the square, his daggers held out perpendicular to his body, forward and to the left. His eyes were nearly closed as he breathed slowly, making it look more like he was meditating than standing in the middle of a battlefield.

The first alv leapt at his back, and it took everything Noct had not to shout a warning as Laura glared at him and said, "Don't."

Just as the daemon was about to land on Iggy's back, its claws curled and teeth bared, he spun to the side and struck, ducking and thrusting a dagger up into its ribs. He immediately swiped his other blade out to his left, catching the arm of one of the salpinxes. As soon as the alv had landed from the first blow, he stood to his full height, spinning his daggers in both hands before whirling and holding the blades out at an angle to catch the second-closest salpinx and alv.

Iggy continued like this for another minute or two, flitting and flipping and parrying and well . . . _dancing_ with them. He seemed to flit almost faster than Noct's eyes could track, moving in opposition to every enemy seemingly before they actually attacked. Noct had seen Laura move like this before, but he'd come to expect it as just a characteristic of how her people fought. Seeing his oldest friend move so swiftly and gracefully like this . . . he almost looked . . . not human, and for the second time since they'd left Insomnia, Noct wondered if he knew this man at all.

"Holy shit, Iggy," Gladio said under his breath.

Iggy glanced up briefly in their direction and crossed his daggers in front of himself, sliding them apart swiftly, edge on edge until sparks flew from the metal, and he flicked his wrists, engulfing everything from his palms to the tips of his blades in a bright orange blaze.

"Wait. How'd he do that?" Prompto asked, but Gladio shushed him.

Noct had seen Iggy demonstrate his new sagefire technique before they'd left Caem, but this was different; it wasn't a short burst that ended in an explosion when it made contact. This flame was sustained, held steady from Iggy's palms like a real Glaive. Noct had always known Iggy was pretty good at magic, but he was surprised to learn that Iggy'd had real Glaive potential. How many other opportunities had he missed out on back in Insomnia because he'd been too busy? Why had it taken Laura, a stranger to the four of them only two months ago, to see that potential in him?

They watched in silent awe as Ignis dipped to elude the alvs, who were all intent on attacking him at once. Though he sent a fiery slash in their direction and a shower of sparks, he didn't attack outright, instead choosing to concentrate on the two salpinxes, who were beginning to back away from what they knew was their weakest element. Ignis lunged forward, leaping into the air with his blades held high above his head, his body stretching and bowing back, before burying both daggers into the chest of the first salpinx and killing it in a flare of orange sparks that lit his face from below. Noct saw that his teeth were bared, his eyes blazing in concentration as the daemon melted into a pool of miasma and disappeared into the ground.

Somersaulting to his feet, he flicked his wrists, and the two daggers seemed to stretch and lengthen as clear, cold ice extended from the tips of the blades. He tossed his left dagger in the air, flipping it before leaning to the side and flicking the top of his boot nimbly against the hilt, sending the icicle spinning toward the back of the retreating salpinx right as the three alvs went in for another attack from behind. He spun again, swiping his remaining dagger across all three, but still choosing not to make contact. Holding his empty hand out casually behind him, he summoned the other dagger from the crystalized body of the salpinx and brandished both blades at the remaining alvs.

He seemed to toy with the alvs for a minute or so, sweeping his ice daggers across their ribs and arms several times as he flitted back and forth across the square, ducking, spinning, and flipping. With each strike, he left sparkling fractals of ice over the stone walls and floors, and even as the patterns of crystal surged around him, coating his jacket and face in glittering white, Iggy didn't seem affected by the cold. Noct couldn't figure out what his game was with the alvs, but it was breathtaking to watch. He'd seen a hell of a lot of bladework in his life, since he was a little kid, but nothing like this before.

"Why's he screwing with those alvs?" Gladio asked.

"He's weakening them," Laura explained. "The lightning is the hardest element for him, at least it was when he learned it a couple of days ago. It can be disorienting to wield, and I didn't want him using it when they were at full strength."

"You mean he just learned all this this recently?" Prompto asked.

"Some of it, yes—the elemental part. We've been working on the rest for some time now—since the first night in Lestallum."

"You mean you really _were_ sparring in that getup?!" Gladio asked in disbelief.

A crackling sizzle filled the air, and they all turned back in time to see the ice on Ignis's daggers melt and shorten to streaks of flickering light. It was then that Iggy began attacking the alvs in earnest, burying the blades between their ribs, shoulders, and across their necks in swift, violent stabs. With each strike he landed, forks of lightning struck the ground, licking their way up through the enemy's body, dancing up Iggy's blades, and into his fingertips. But at that point, it wasn't the dancing or the lightning that had stunned the group into silence. It was the way he was moving—almost as though he were teleporting around the square—almost as fast as Laura. He'd slash a blade across the throat of one alv, and by the time the lightning bolt had disappeared, Iggy would have already backflipped or darted his way to the other side of the square, jumping on another with a vicious jab of his daggers.

He took out two of the alvs like this, and it was at this point that Noct felt he could finally relax. Even if something happened to this new Specs, the old one he knew could take out a single, half-dead alv. Iggy crossed his daggers and flicked his wrists again, turning the lightning into fire and lunging forward. He sliced one blade across the daemon's neck and forced the other deep in its chest, and as it landed on the stone beneath his blade at his feet, it melted away.

The courtyard, which had been echoing for the last twenty minutes or so with the sound of Iggy's boots clacking on the stone as he moved and the thud of metal and flesh, grew absolutely silent and still. Iggy remained as he was for a moment, crouched in the middle of the deserted square, his head bowed and eyes closed as he breathed deeply, the tip of one of his daggers still touching the stone, the other still in the hand of his outstretched arm.

Slowly, he lowered his arm to rest the blade of his other dagger on the stone with the first as he sighed peacefully, his body expanding and contracting with the breath. As he dismissed them in a shower of phosphorescent petals, the tips of the blades brushed against the paving stones, creating an almost bell-like tone that rang out against the high stone walls in victory.

"Ifrit's fiery asshole," Gladio muttered.

"Yeah," Noct agreed.

"I can't believe that just happened," Prompto said, putting his camera away. "He's like, totally OP now."

Laura threw herself around the corner and ran to him as Iggy stood, smiling triumphantly in her direction as he flicked his wrists arrogantly in the air.

"I am so very proud of you, you cocky bastard," she called out to him before slamming into his body, pressing her face tightly into his neck. To Noct's surprise, Iggy wrapped his arms tightly around her back, pulling her close and closing his eyes in exhaustion as he leaned into the top of her head.

"You okay there, Ig?" Gladio asked as they approached, and Laura stepped away to look up at him.

"Yes, I'm quite all right," he said on a sigh, but he sounded tired to Noct.

Iggy's eyes landed on him and seemed to grow concerned, as though he'd done something _wrong_ , of all things.

"Highness?"

"That was . . . amazing, Specs," Noct said quietly, and the relief that spread over Iggy's face was instantaneous. Did he really think Noct would be _angry_ about this? "So . . . yeah," he continued, slapping him on the back with a smile. "We should probably go back to the hotel and chat, I guess."

Iggy nodded, a smirk growing across his weary face. "A very intricate and well thought out plan, Noct. Let's go."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I realize his spelldaggers are what supposedly gives Ignis the ability to fight with the elements, but since there was so much evidence of him being magically special, he is now magically more special.


	46. Chapter 46

**Author's Note:  
**

Updates are coming a little slowly for a bit. Episode Ignis is a clusterfuck of contradictions, so I have to work on multiple chapters at once to make sure all the puzzle pieces and emotional journeys fit.

* * *

"Fuck," Gladio groaned, holding a hand to his aching head. "Shouldn't've done that, specially after staying out so damn late." As he thunked his forehead down onto the café table in front of him, he could hear Noct's and Prompto's groans of agreement thundering through his pulsing skull. Felt like a fucking jabberwock was stomping around in there still.

"I did warn you all you would wind up regretting drinking an entire bottle each," Iggy pointed out.

Gladio looked up in time to see Noct roll his eyes. "Yeah, but what you didn't tell us was that you'd have us up at noon."

But they'd all been eager to sit back in the parlor of their suite and celebrate Iggy's transformation from the overthinking strategist to a damn mage-assassin on the battlefield. Seemed like Laura and Iggy were the only ones that held back in celebrating, even though Gladio knew Iggy could easily drink like a fucking fish and still function the next day—but they staunchly stuck to a single glass of wine as they told the story of Iggy combining that brain that had spent years pissing them all off, some kinda super intuition, and a fuckload of hard work to accomplish all he had.

Gladio hadn't been really surprised when Iggy had revealed his sagefire the other day; it was only natural for Crownsguard to secretly work on techniques to spring on allies and opponents alike—just like Gladio had sprung his own impulse technique on them all back in Costlemark. But this was different—a whole new style of combat. Gladio had been relieved to see Iggy taking fewer potions on the field lately; it increased his chances for surviving everything ahead of them. But they'd always been so busy with keeping their own skins intact that it'd come as a real shock to see just how _much_ he'd improved. Could Gladio even take him now? The answer would've been obvious just a few weeks ago, but now he wasn't sure.

"Well this should help!" Laura sang cheerfully, and Gladio wondered if it would be possible to catch her by surprise and shut that mouth of hers before she killed him with that ice pick of a voice.

She set down four tea cups and a large teapot in the center of the table. "Tea. Earl Grey. Hot," she said with a smirk. "Kiwa let me serve my own leaf this afternoon, and she's got pancakes coming up for all of us. You guys are gonna need some carbs to soak up all that alcohol."

"Thank Six," Prompto sighed as she poured him and Noct a cup of tea. "I thought for sure they wouldn't serve us breakfast this late. What time did you guys get up, anyway?"

"We slept in till nine, but we had things to do."

"Like what?" Gladio asked as he collected the menus from everyone and handed them to a passing waiter.

Laura paused with the teapot hovering over his cup, just short of pouring it. "Fucking in the woods, babe," she answered before pouring his cup and reaching under the table to secretly summon one of Iggy's bottled coffees.

"Thank you," Iggy said softly, cupping the bottle with both hands before opening it and taking a sip. "I'd comment on your use of such language in public, but you'd likely only shout it out more loudly in response."

"You know I would," she grinned.

"Is that the trick to getting him off my back?" Noct asked hopefully.

"Mercy isn't on the menu for _you_ , I'm afraid," Iggy shot back. "I have enough on my plate with His Highness as it is."

It seemed all three of them had been wrong about those two; what little time they'd spent alone these past weeks had been spent working their asses off instead of enjoying each other. Gladio should've known, really, given the couple involved, but he kinda hoped that the one time he'd covered for them wasn't so they could lock themselves in a camper, look up pastry recipes, and cook them dinner. That was to say nothing of them beating the crap out of each other every morning. Gladio knew the kind of work it took to become that good, that fast, and it couldn't've been easy on either of them—especially Iggy. He knew damn well from experience how tough it was sparring with Laura and couldn't imagine how the guy could even move after working with her for so long every day like that.

But all that shit was gonna change tonight. He'd made sure Noct had reserved the room, and they planned to spring it on Iggy today before the masquerade as a surprise. They were in love, gods damnit—everyone knew it now—and it was high time they started enjoying it before they got closer to the Empire and shit started hitting the fan.

Noct had even been considerate enough to give Gladio the day off that day. He'd been considering looking for a place to find a good beer and a good flirt—until he'd woken up this morning. He might've been rethinking the beer part now, but he could still start the day at the Arena with Noct and finish elsewhere.

As the waitress—Kiwa?—set a steaming stack of pancakes down in front of him, Gladio thanked her profusely and dove for the syrup first, eager to get some before Noct got a hold of it and dumped the entire pitcher on that shit. That sweet, bready steam rose up in his face, combining with the fresh citrusy scent of the tea and clearing his head a little. Gladio tried to ignore the conversation from the table of girls next to him and concentrate on the hangover cure in front of him, but their voices seemed to grate on his aching nerves this morning.

"I went into Madame's Masques, but they didn't have anything I liked."

"Ugh, that stuff's for tourists anyway."

"Well I don't know! It's my first time in the capital. Daddy hates coming here—only came because the First Secretary invited him. And he wants me to _find_ someone of _status_ while I'm there—ugh."

"Yes, but now the ball is tonight, you've got no mask, I still need to find a piece for my hair, and you're being picky!"

"Well what's your excuse then? You're the one who lives here! You could've gotten something for your hair ages ago!"

Laura waited for their waiter to leave the bill at the table before leaning over the aisle between them. "You know, there's a custom shop in the Deutatuo District that does lovely pieces of all sorts. Best kept secret in Altissia."

"I don't think so," a blonde girl with grey eyes replied when Gladio looked over. "That's a residential district."

"Marco works out of his home," Laura said. "He did the masks for a lot of high profile clients—just dropped off Camelia Claustra's mask at her estate yesterday. He mentioned he had some custom orders people didn't pick up and some extra pieces; you should go check him out."

"Ohmigods, are you going, too? We could go together," the brunette sitting across from the blonde said, her hand flapping frantically up and down. Her breathless excitement kinda reminded Gladio a little of Prompto as she fidgeted at Laura with wide brown eyes.

"I have a mask already," Laura said with a jovial smile. "But I could take you there real quick. I have to get back to the hotel soon and start getting ready. It's not as though I'm going to get much help from _these_ guys," she said, pointing a thumb in their direction and rolling her eyes.

"Seriously?" Noct said under his breath. "We've got like, seven hours until the thing starts."

"Girls," Prompto said, nodding sagely as though that explained everything.

Laura straightened and glared at Noct and Prompto. "When _your_ hair is three feet long and needs washing, drying, and curling, not to mention styling, then we'll talk."

Without breaking eye contact with his bottle of coffee, Iggy tilted his head in Laura's direction, his eyebrows twitching into a slight furrow as his lips pulled down in a frown. Gladio had seen him pull a thousand of these micro expressions a day ever since he'd known him—they were the only kind he'd ever made until leaving Insomnia, and even mostly until Caem—but now that he knew what to look out for, his eyes shifted to Laura's face. Her eyes turned soft and sweet, her lips curling up just a little as she minutely shook her head—not enough for anyone who didn't know what was _really_ going on to notice it as such. In response, Iggy's chin dipped down, maybe a centimeter or so.

Gladio wondered what kind of conversation they were having in there, and how they decided what to say out loud and what to say in their heads. It was kinda weird thinking they pretty much only ever talked out loud for the rest of the group's benefit, but they seemed to do it surprisingly often.

The brunette leaned over the aisle, placing the tips of her fingers lightly on their table. "I have a plan!" she breathed. "You can go to your hotel and get your costume, then meet us at Marie's Macarons just down the street? You can take us to this mask place, and then we can all head back to Sydney's manor to get ready together!"

"And then maybe you could tell us if any of your friends here are going stag," the blonde suggested, giving Gladio the side-eye, and Gladio rewarded her with his signature panty-dropping smile and a wink but didn't take it any further than that. If Noct was meeting Luna tonight, he wasn't gonna have much time for distractions, much as he wished otherwise. He hadn't had a good lay since the last time they'd passed through Lestallum.

Prompto leaned forward and raised his hand tentatively, but Laura had already turned to Noct and was asking, "Did you have anything planned for today?"

"Thought we might do some fishing or something. Go ahead if you want."

"Great!" the brunette said. "That's Sydney, by the way," she said pointing at the blonde as they both stood. "I'm Sofia."

Laura gave them her own signature wide smile with sparkling eyes. "Laura."

"So we have a few errands to run first," Sofia said as Sydney headed up front to pay the bill. "Meet us at Marie's in an hour?"

"Yeah," she said with a wave before Sofia turned and headed to the front of the café. After adding a little syrup to each layer of her enormous stack of pancakes—where the hell was she planning to put all that food, anyway?—she looked over at Iggy. "I suppose I'd better go right after breakfast if I'm going to be making those changes to your tux and mask. I'll leave your mask and the invitations in a box on the table, yeah?"

"If it's truly assistance you need in getting ready, I would be more than happy to help," Iggy said, and Gladio had to chuckle a little. Guy might've been as smart as whip, but he could be kinda dense sometimes, even with a girlfriend, apparently.

"You don't understand," Laura said, her expression growing almost wicked. Yeah, Gladio sure as fuck knew what Iggy was in for tonight. "Masquerades are all about the reveal."

"No doubt your choice of theme will be dramatic, as always," Iggy said amusedly.

"Were we supposed to pick some kinda theme? I just picked out the first one I liked," Noct said.

"Yours kinda looked like mine," Prompto said. "I got it because it reminded me of Sunny. Did yours remind you of Byrrus?"

"Yeah. I liked the red feathers, I guess."

Gladio snorted a little. "You guys are goin' as your own chocobos? Buncha nerds, I swear," he said with a grin.

"Well, what're _you_ going as?" Noct shot back.

"Sex on legs."

He'd packed his standard tuxedo, with its emerald waistcoat and black tailcoat with silver trimmings—a combination of House Amicitia and House Lucis Caelum colors, but skipped the fancy cape with all its royal medals and frills for obvious reasons. Even though it was gonna suck having to stuff himself like meat into a sausage tube after so many months of not even having to wear a shirt, there was no denying he looked hot in formalwear; he'd had a lifetime of experience perfecting his look. There was no way he could compete with the societal dick measuring contest with the mask, since they'd neither the time nor the money to get a custom job done, so he'd gone simple—black, green, and silver scrollwork that covered his eyes and nose and glittered with crystal accents.

"No, but seriously," Prompto said, his face scrunching into a frown. "Were we supposed to pick a theme?"

"From my research into the practice here in Accordo, it's more common for the women to arrange their costumes around a theme, matching their dresses to their masks, though the men sometimes do. There should be no issue with whatever you chose," Ignis said.

"Do you have a theme?" Prompto asked.

Iggy's lips quirked up into a knowing smile. "I'm going as myself."

"Well that clears that up," Gladio said.

"About as well as 'sex on legs,' I'd say," he replied smoothly, and Prompto snorted into his hand.

Gladio turned to Laura, who'd been silently inhaling her stack of pancakes before she had to get going. "All right, Princess. Let's have it. What's your theme?"

"Yeah, we're gonna have to know in case we need to find you," Noct said. "Will we recognize you?"

"Yeah, probably. My mask doesn't do much to hide my identity, unlike Ignis's. I figure anyone that's going to recognize me can do so with or without a mask. Just look for the Queen of the Night Sky. Ignis should have no trouble finding me."

"Just follow the sounds of a ruckus," Iggy muttered under his breath.

Not for the first time, Gladio wondered what it would be like to use telepathy—to be able to find someone in a crowded estate ballroom with nothing but . . . what? Instinct? He'd been watching the two of them carefully since he realized what they were capable of, and it seemed they were in near constant contact. He was willing to bet that even as they separated today, Gladio would still see signs of Iggy talking to her. He wondered what kind of effect it would have on a person to have an entirely private world to share like that.

His thoughts turned dark when he thought about when this was all over. Would she go and leave him behind? Stay here with them? Take him with her? What if one of them got killed? What about Iggy being a mortal? He was probably thinking too far ahead; they might not even be together anymore by the time those events rolled around. But given how hard they'd appeared to have fallen for each other, he tended to doubt that.

"Actually, now that I think of it, that's kind of funny," Laura said, tilting her head. "I originally chose that theme because . . . well, reasons, but it's actually the meaning of Noct's name."

"What?" Noct asked, turning to focus completely on her.

"I guess you weren't there for that conversation. Your name has meaning in an old Earth language: 'sky of the night's light' . . . or near enough. Guess it would've been too much to ask for your lot to get the declensions correct; pretty decent just to get it that close, really."

"Wait, does my name have a meaning too?" Prompto asked hopefully, leaning forward and pointing his fork at her.

She grimaced a little. "Yours is a bit of a sloppy translation. Going with 'quicksilver' for you."

"Badass. I mean, I dunno what it means or anything, but it _sounds_ badass."

"Go on then, Princess. Whaddya got for me?" Gladio asked.

"You're a fun one, too. Loosely translated? 'Little Sword Friend,' but interestingly, a gladiolus is also a type of sword lily, a flower of the iris family."

Gladio wasn't really that impressed with the fact that 'little' was in his name, but whatever—not like he didn't know himself he was a huge bastard. The sword friend thing was a little unnerving, given what he'd been destined to become, and he wasn't sure what to think of it. The flower thing was interesting though—like he had a connection to his sister. He definitely _was_ a member of the Iris family, and damn proud of it.

"Dude," Prompto giggled. "Not only do you have a little sword, you're also a flower!"

"I'm gonna kick your ass for the sword comment," Gladio growled. "But I can dig the flower thing. Flowers are pretty fucking awesome. Maybe I'll even put one on your grave when I'm done kicking your ass."

The three of them looked to Iggy, who had cut a small square of his pancake and was dipping it carefully into a ramekin of syrup. They waited for him to ask for the meaning of his name, but Gladio bet he already knew, and even if he didn't, he could find out without having to say a word. It wasn't like Iggy to ever turn down knowing something, so it had to be one or the other.

Noct had picked up his mug to take a sip of his tea but paused when Iggy didn't ask. "Well? What's Iggy's name?"

"Sex on legs, apparently," Iggy answered casually—but low enough not to be overheard by anyone beyond the table—before taking a sip of his coffee. Noct had to spit his tea back into his cup while Prompto threw his head back laughing, slapping his leg.

"Damn straight," Laura agreed.

"Ha! Now _that's_ a good one, Ig," Gladio laughed.

Even with this mage-master, laid-back, joyful Iggy, Gladio didn't get him sometimes—the way he'd get onto Noct for using 'improper language' in public but hardly ever the rest of them, especially Gladio. He came out with comments like just now, but always blushed or got embarrassed when Gladio and Laura did their flirting thing. He hoped that didn't mean she and Gladio were making him _really_ uncomfortable every time they did their thing, but he doubted Laura would've let it continue if it did. Flirting with her was fun as hell, but it wasn't like either of them meant anything by it. Laura and Iggy belonged to each other, like some kinda cheesy ass romance novel, but gods damn was it beautiful.

"Well," Laura said before draining the last of her tea, "better get going. I'll see you all there!"

"We'll be in disguise though," Prompto pointed out, raising a finger at her.

She laughed a little, saying, "Please, you think a mask will hide who you are from me? I find the entire disguise concept rather amusing. Still, it's fun to see everyone dressed up. Anyway, see you guys tonight!"

* * *

They took the gondola out to the marina, where Noct pulled out his fishing pole and the rest of them settled in for the long wait. Gladio hated days like these. Prompto could always find some entertainment snapping pictures for a half an hour or so, but then it suddenly became Gladio and Iggy's job to keep the kid still and quiet so he wouldn't scare the fish away. Iggy, of course, had the patience of a saint while he stood beside the Prince, praising him for every perceived victory over the slippery little fuckers. Gladio had little interest in playing admiring audience all day, and while he was all for spending quiet time in his own head, the sheer length of time Noct was capable of fishing was long enough for anyone to find a stray bit of fucked-upedness rolling around in the brain. Occasionally, he had to drop to the ground to do some one-armed pushups just to work off the boredom.

"So you excited about seeing Luna tonight?" Gladio pressed, hoping to irritate him just a little. Noct had always been way too easy to wind up when it came to her.

"Yeah," Noct said quietly. "It's been so long."

That wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting; maybe getting more insight into what Lunafreya had been going through on his behalf had made him start thinking more about his responsibilities for once.

"Are we gonna fish alllllllll day?" Prompto whined.

Noct shook his head. "Maybe another half hour? Then we're gonna take Ig to the Arena since he's not gonna get to go tomorrow."

"I beg your pardon?" Iggy asked politely. "Why will I not be accompanying you to the Arena tomorrow?"

Noct shifted a bit and grimaced. "Uh, yeah. So . . . after the masquerade tonight, we got you your own room. We're going to the Arena tomorrow, so you and Laura should . . . you know, do whatever for the day."

Iggy's eyebrows twitched up in surprise. "I—" he swallowed, bowing his head, and his reaction to the shock of someone doing something nice for him kinda broke Gladio's heart a little. It wasn't like they wouldn't've if he'd _let_ them from time to time.

"Thank you," Iggy said, his voice strong and steady again. "I am in your debt, Highness."

"No way, Specs," Noct said, turning to him. "We would've starved or driven off a cliff by now if it wasn't for you. You had this coming a long time."

"Yeah, not to mention all the advice you give us for killing all those monsters," Prompto pointed out.

"And I don't wanna hear any stories about you guys learning crazy new combat skills or cooking enough food for an army or whatever you guys are always working on," Gladio said, clapping a hand on Ignis's shoulder. "Take a day and relax, damn it. Sleep in. Get laid. Eat way too much food and nap on a gondola."

Taking a deep breath and staring at the ground in front of him, he said quietly, "Thank you. And I would like you all to know, no matter what happens on this mad journey of ours, that it has been my greatest pleasure to call you all my friends and comrades."

"Aww, come on, Igs," Prompto said, sniffling a little. "Not like anything's gonna happen. We happen to kick some major ass!"

"Yeah, you bet we do," Gladio said, but he narrowed his eyes a little at Iggy's bleak expression.

Iggy didn't seem to brighten up until they arrived at the Arena Galviano, where Gladio was surprised to find that not only did Iggy thoroughly enjoy the matches, he also seemed to be really into offering Noct advice on betting. As much as he got onto them all about spending money, Gladio would've thought he'd've hated this, but then again, Gladio had seen some of his civvies, and no way was that shit cheap. The guy was a mess of contradictions.

"Wouldn't've pegged you as a gambler," Gladio noted after a couple of hours.

Iggy leaned in to tell Noct to place the full bet on the coeurl before inclining his head in Gladio's direction, sniffing a little. "Merely a matter of statistics—a calculated risk, and in this case, hardly much of one, as everyone knows to _always_ place gil on the coeurl."

A calculated risk—Iggy was right about that part. They'd all personally hunted pretty much all these animals out in the wild, so they all had an advantage over the city folk they were betting against. So far, Gladio and Iggy had only disagreed a couple of times on which team to place the bet on, and it'd been fifty-fifty so far on who'd been right. Noct wasn't so bad at placing bets, but Prompto seemed to be the worst—always guessing based on team size.

Gladio's hand twitched a little, the blood seeming to race that little bit faster in his veins as their coeurl sat back on its haunches, charging for a deadly attack against one of the wyverns as it took to the air, diving and snapping its vicious jaws at the wildcat's back. He wondered if they ever put people in the arena to fight; Gladio certainly wouldn't've minded giving it a shot. He'd bet the four of them together could easily take on any matchup.

"Yeah, but how'd you know to put the money on those spiracorns?" Prompto asked. "Never woulda done that with two against four like that."

"Really," Iggy huffed. "One must also take into account the condition of the animals. Those havocfangs looked to be on their last legs."

Noct shook his head. "Gotta say, you surprise me sometimes, Specs."

"Yeah, like, how would Laura feel about you putting money on animals fighting to the death like this?" Prompto asked. "Bet she'd hate that."

"She does despise the concept," Iggy admitted, his eyes glued to the match in front of him as the coeurl zapped the wyvern out of the sky, his fists tightening in excitement. "But we recognize and respect each other's differences."

"Uh huh, I totally thought she'd turn you vegetarian. You're already halfway there," Noct said. "Yes!" Noct jumped into the air as the last of the voretooths fell to the coeurl, reaching out to give Gladio an enthusiastic high five.

"It would never happen," Iggy said when he'd finished clapping. "I understand her aversion to eating flesh, but I happen to enjoy a good steak, thank you. I don't imagine it would even occur to her to ask me to refrain, and well done on her for that."

"So what does she do that you hate, then?" Gladio asked, a little surprised he was offering up so much information so freely. Had it always simply been a matter of asking him? Now that he looked back, it seemed like none of them really ever _asked_ Iggy's opinions or thoughts on anything but business.

Iggy tilted his head in thought for a moment before smiling tenderly. "Nothing I despise, per se, but I'm not a particularly avid fan of her inclination to get caught in the rain, though she has shown me that even a rainstorm has its wonders."

"Yeah, I bet," Gladio said, remembering the look on her face when they'd been on the boat and how she'd transformed the scene around them.

"Think we should start heading back?" Prompto asked as the handlers were clearing the arena for the next match.

"Yeah, I guess," Noct sighed. "Definitely getting that turbocharger for the car tomorrow—that fishing reel too."

As they headed outside to catch a gondola back to the hotel, Prompto asked, "Hey, think we could get that enforcer too? The power on that thing looked pretty sick!"

"The lance appeared to be a wise choice as well," Iggy remarked. "Should you do well tomorrow, you may want to get everything."

As they stepped into the waiting gondola, Gladio slapped Iggy on the back a couple of times. "I gotcha, Ig. I'll make sure it's just me and Highness placin' the bets tomorrow."

"Hey!" Prompto protested as he leapt from the dock to the boat, making it rock roughly to the side as he landed. "I was right about a couple!"

"I just wish we could get that Magitek generator," Noct said. "We'd never have to think about gas again."

"Yeah, but we'd have to spend like, a week straight in there," Prompto complained. "I mean, it's fun and all, but damn."

"I agree," Iggy said with a nod. "All things considered, I'd rather have the turbocharger, as the cost versus benefit makes it a superior choice."

"You got a need for speed there, Ig?" Prompto asked.

Iggy smirked before responding, "After Laura made a comment on my _once_ remarking on her speed, I've taken to proving I'm not averse to letting the Regalia go on the open road, particularly while you lot are asleep." His eyes unfocused, and his smirk grew wider. Some comment shared with Laura, maybe?

"Maybe we could use Umbra sometime to go back into the past and get the generator that way," Noct said.

"Yes, because using the power of the gods for vehicle upgrades isn't at all frivolous," Iggy said, shaking his head.

"Hey, you think there's gonna be any other royals at this party tonight?" Prompto asked.

"Well, I don't know about royals, but I imagine much of Ravettrician society will be there, as Altissia is without a doubt foremost in holding fashionable societal events," Iggy said.

"Wow, what if I like . . . meet a princess in disguise or something, and we fall in love? That would be so romantic!"

"Heh, keep dreamin', kid," Gladio said.

Tonight was all about checking out the local Nif population before the rite and keeping the focus off Noct and Lunafreya when they met up. No fairytales tonight; business came first.

* * *

"Look at all the Nifs in this place. Wonder if Lady Lunafreya's gonna make it," Gladio said as they walked through the entrance of the grand ballroom.

The place wasn't really that impressive when compared to the Citadel's ballrooms, but Gladio didn't think anyone in the world could've competed with Insomnia's architecture. The long, rectangular hall was lined with carved columns on either side, painted to look some kinda gold metallic color, but the ceiling was clearly supposed to be the focal point of the room, with its painted mural of Leviathan winding her way through Altissia's many waterways and the chandeliers glinting gold in the low lighting. Glass doors lined one side of the room, opening out to a wide, moonlit balcony that overlooked the main bay and letting the cooler night air waft in to keep the room from getting too stuffy with all the people. And there were a lot of people for the size of the room—three hundred, maybe? Keeping an eye on Noct might be an issue tonight.

"Indeed. I do hope she can attend safely. Though the Empire likely has no aversions to us being here, I highly doubt they would appreciate the King and the Oracle speaking," Ignis replied.

"Still, glad we split. Don't wanna draw any more attention to ourselves than necessary."

They hadn't been in Altissia long enough yet for real specific rumors about their group to start spreading around, but it was only a matter of time before word of the Prince and his retinue got out. To subvert expectations, Ignis and Gladio had gone ahead to check the place over before sending a text letting Noct and Prompto know they could come on in.

"Is Laura here yet?" Gladio asked, trying to spot her in the crowd as he tugged on his collar, hoping to loosen the damn thing a little.

"Yes, but I don't see her. It must be part of her subtler magic; I never did solve how she managed to sneak into the throne room in that gown of hers," he said, straightening to look over the heads of the crowd. "She's toying with me for reasons I cannot fathom."

"Aww, come on, Ig," Gladio said, grinning over at him as they strolled along the perimeter of the room. "Anticipation's half the fun. She wants you to get frustrated so you'll go all wild on her later. Sides, I'm sure you'll find her if her outfit's anything like that crazy ass mask of yours."

Laura's mask covered his entire face—even the lower half was masked by crackled porcelain and painted gold lips, muffling his voice and making it difficult for Gladio to hear him in the crowded room. He definitely fit in with the higher-ranking nobility in this group; Gladio was pretty sure the scrollwork covering his eyes and forehead was actual gold, and the rubies and diamonds lining his eyes were definitely real. The black, red, and orange feathers extending from the top of the mask at all angles reminded Gladio of Iggy's signature hairstyle in flames—impressive, but he had a feeling those weren't chocobo feathers.

"Is that some sort of universal paradigm? You sound just like her," Iggy asked.

"Yeah, maybe it is. Chicks like thinking that they've driven you insane enough to act out of character. You want my advice? When you find her, pull her into a corner and attack her. She'll love it; trust me."

Gladio looked over at him when he merely hummed noncommittally. "Is the creep here? Or the scumbag?"

Iggy tilted his head. "She says they aren't. I'd say it's safe enough to bring Noct in," he said, reaching into his black velvet tailcoat pocket for his phone.

Of course, no one could dress up like Ignis-fucking-Scientia. There weren't a lot of men in the world who could wear as much sparkly shit as he did and still manage to look sharp, but he always pulled it off somehow. Laura had apparently turned the silver-crystal scrollwork on the lapels and high collar of his coat gold to match his mask, and even that silk brocade vest of his seemed to have been re-dyed in shining burgundy.

"You look sharp tonight, man. Let's split up so we can keep a better eye out, and you can go find your girl."

"Thank you, Gladio," he said with a quick nod. "Laura and I are both in your debt, not only for your assistance but also for your discretion. I greatly appreciate it."

Gladio shoved him off. "Damn, man, don't gotta thank me for being decent. Go on!"

Since he wasn't on the pull, there wasn't much to do for the next hour but idly participate in a few of the group dances as he watched Noct wander around the room like a lost puppy. Seemed no matter how much stealth he'd acquired out in the wilderness, he still stuck out like a sore thumb in these social settings. At this rate, Lunafreya wasn't ever gonna approach him until he settled. Even Prompto had given up following him around about fifteen minutes ago, which at least made him a little less conspicuous.

He hadn't seen Iggy or Laura since he'd shooed Iggy off, but judging by the status report texts he kept receiving every ten godsdamn minutes, he either hadn't found her or was focusing on work tonight.

As he leaned against the back wall, eyes locked on Noct's halting progress through the room, he felt the vibration of someone leaning heavily next to him and heard Prompto's familiar dramatic sigh.

"What's up, big guy?" Prompto asked.

"Just keepin' an eye on our master of subtlety over there. You havin' fun?"

Prompto sighed again. "It's not how I thought it was gonna be. Everyone's just hanging out with the people they know. Thought the whole point of hiding your identity was so you could meet new people."

"Welcome to the club, kid," Gladio said with a chuckle, "and it is a club. Buncha hypocrites, all of 'em. Trust me, you're probably better off."

"I kinda wanted to try dancing at least once in a place like this," he said longingly as his yellow-feather-lined eyes followed the rainbow of couples gliding over the dance floor. "I thought it'd be all waltzes, too, but they've been playing a lot of different stuff."

There were about a hundred and fifty couples on the floor—men in colorful costumes or dark tuxedos, women in hoopskirts and heavy shining fabrics, and all those glitzy masks. Gladio had to admit that the whirling colors and flashes of jewels in the lighting made for a pretty neat effect—totally different from the required black of the Lucian events, which tended to alienate visiting dignitaries.

"I'll dance with you, Prompto," said a soft voice laced with amusement from beside him.

Even if he hadn't recognized the voice, and even if she hadn't used Prompto's name, of course, it couldn't have been anyone else but Laura. Who else would be able to sneak up on him? Especially dressed like . . . that. She looked like a fucking royal just standing there. Though her gown was a similar style to the others, full skirted and sleeves that flared at the elbows, she'd chosen a lighter fabric that swished as she moved—deep blue and covered in silver-white crystals that danced and shimmered in the indirect lighting. True to her word, her mythril scrollwork mask did little to hide her identity, but the sapphires and diamonds that lined the eyelids of the metal drew attention to her matching eyes.

' _Queen of the Night Sky' indeed_ , Gladio thought to himself as he looked her up and down.

She might've been able to blend in with the other dancers had it not been for the fucking royal crown on top of her head and the matching necklace made of infinity symbols. What looked like diamond-studded mythril was set deep into her black curls, rising up in about twenty-five points that began with sapphires the size of Gladio's thumbprint and were topped with more diamonds.

"Whoa! You mean it?" Prompto asked, beginning to jump up and down. "You wanna dance with me?"

"Of course I mean it!" she said with a laugh. "Just give me a minute?"

"Yeah!" he said brightly, taking a few steps to the dance floor—probably to scope out the best spot to take selfies from.

When Laura turned to Gladio, her eyes widened a little as he crossed his arm over his chest and bowed low—because she fucking deserved it. "Good evening, Your Majesty," he said before straightening. "I take it those are real."

She touched a manicured hand lightly to her head and nodded. "It was commissioned for my coronation and was always my favorite. I couldn't bear to part with it."

"You sure don't know how to do subtle, do you?"

She lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. "I figured we might need a distraction tonight, so I dressed the part and have been staying out of sight since I arrived, except to chat up Oscar for a bit."

"Oscar?"

"The conductor—got him to owe me a favor now," she said with a smirk. Then she stepped close to him, speaking softly. "As you've no doubt noticed, Noct isn't doing well. He can't be approached like this. I think I've convinced Ignis to help me with a diversion, but you need to make sure to keep an eye on them when everyone else is looking the other way."

"Oh yeah? Whatcha got in mind?" he asked. Since Iggy's diversions usually involved blowing something up inside one of the Nif bases, he couldn't imagine what kind of scenario they'd cooked up for a room full of civs.

Her smile turned downright dangerous as she asked in a low voice, "Have you ever seen him dance?"

"Yeah, hundreds of times," Gladio said with a shrug, "at the Citadel."

"Not like this," she replied, her eyes darting over to a spot in the corner, where Gladio could just make out Iggy's long silhouette in the shadows. But he'd known Iggy long enough to know exactly what face he was making right now based on his posture alone—that hand on that hip, that tilted head. Ice Cold Scientia. The woman his gaze was directed at seemed to notice his stare and was looking down at herself in confusion.

Much as this wasn't his business, he really wanted to know. He'd been on the road with Iggy long enough to know that he wasn't the kinda guy to just stand around and judge people like that.

"Hey, before you guys go do your thing, something I gotta ask you, and feel free not to answer if it's too private, or whatever."

"Yes?"

He thrust his chin in Iggy's direction. "What's goin' through his head when he does that? He earned a nickname for that face back home."

"'Ice Cold Scientia,' I know," she said, her own voice growing cold. "Heard some of your cooks . . . not particularly clever." She grew warmer as she turned her head back in his direction. "He's a million miles away right now—not even in this room, a thousand things going on up in there."

When Laura's eyes met Gladio's again, they were sparkling just as much as that crown on her head. "It's beautiful," she said in awe. "But the poor man suffers from what they call 'Resting Bitch Face' on Earth. It's not his fault."

"Ha!" Gladio barked, not even needing an explanation, because yeah, that explained everything he'd thought he'd known about Ig. "Yeah, I see it now."

"Anyway, come on Prom," she said, lacing her arm through his and leaning into him. "Let's get you your dance."

Gladio leaned back into the wall and watched . . . everything—Prompto and Laura doing some kinda spazzy dance to an upbeat pop number they'd piped into the speakers to give the orchestra a break; Iggy and his resting bitch face shifting back and forth a little on his feet, almost like he was nervous; and Noct edging around the dance floor still looking like he'd accidentally wandered in dressed for the occasion and decided to stay.

As the song ended and Laura leaned in to kiss Prompto on the cheek, Gladio started casually strolling closer toward Noct's position in case Lunafreya led him away from the room and Gladio needed to follow them. The orchestra picked up their instruments again, and whatever favor Laura had called in came in the form of a heavy and humid number that reminded Gladio of Lestallum for some reason.

He cast a glance at Noct before looking back to find Laura, who was standing demurely in front of a man Gladio barely recognized as Iggy.

Ig had always had textbook form when waltzing back home—perfectly straight and supported from below and graceful and all that other shit the instructors were always screeching about in melodramatic tones. But tonight, he was another man entirely—chest puffed out and head held high in arrogance, possession radiating off him as he stared down the nose of his mask at Laura. The tension seemed to build as the dancers around them, likely thinking they had some mysterious queen or some shit dancing near them, began backing away to watch.

With a swift flick of motion Gladio almost missed, Iggy's hand snapped out, grasping her wrist and snatching her into a spin that carried her past him, her skirt kicking up around her in a sluicing wall of blue and silver sparkling water as she moved.

Laura turned to face him again, teasing her body into a hypnotizing sway like a naga preparing to strike, and as Iggy stalked toward her, she backed away, the curve of her lips curling up into an impish smile. But he was the one who struck first, grabbing her wrist again and leading her in a circle as they stared each other down, and when Iggy leaned back a little, she snatched her hand away, slapping her other hand to his chest and spreading it wide as she panted up at him like they'd just gone a round. Sliding his fingertips over her cheek and into the half of her hair that hung at her back, he grasped a handful and yanked back hard, exposing her neck as he skimmed his masked nose up the column of her throat. When they straightened, they began to move together.

And it looked like Iggy wasn't done revealing his secrets on this trip.

Gladio was trying to decide how much money he would pay to see this re-enacted again at some point in time when he didn't have a job to do, and as his gaze shifted back to Noct, he noticed a woman about Laura's size standing several feet away, strolling casually along the edge of the outer wall toward where Noct stood gaping at Iggy and Laura in shock. Her sylleblossom-colored dress hung in heavy drapes around her frame, the silk lined with diamond patterns of shining while pearls. The woman's face, and even her hair, were completely covered by a white porcelain mask trimmed with delicate lace and a white velvet hood. Judging by her carefully casual progress, this had to be Lady Lunafreya and not some random chick with eyes for Noct.

The figure stopped short as the eyes beneath her mask flickered to Gladio, but she seemed to recognize him when he nodded to her. She nodded back in greeting and continued ambling until she reached out to place a white-gloved hand on Noct's shoulder. When Noct turned around, she slid the hand down to his, grasping it tightly and leading him toward one of the doors that led to the balcony.

That wasn't good; the quieter, more isolated atmosphere out there would definitely make it easier for them to be overheard.

As nonchalantly as he could, Gladio headed the pair off before they could make it to the door, leaning in toward Lunafreya to murmur, "You're pretty good at the whole covert ops thing, Your Highness, but if you don't want this conversation to be overheard, I suggest you stay in here." He nodded his head toward a corner that, while not deserted, was slightly isolated from the group of ten or so leaning in to each other to gossip about Iggy and Laura. "Over there would be better."

"I understand. Thank you," she said with a nod, leading Noct to the corner he'd indicated.

Gladio slowly followed, watching as Iggy and Laura flung each other in tight fast circles around almost the entire dance floor, stepping in and out of each other's strides, kicking up and over each other's legs, and both taking turns leading and following each other through fluid whirls so swiftly that Gladio had trouble keeping track of who was leading the charge at any moment.

A lot of people didn't think Gladio would know jack shit about ballroom dancing, but his mom had started teaching him when he was two years old, as was proper for any Lucian gentleman, and he'd gone to at least four balls every year since he was six years old. He might not have been as good as Iggy at it, but he knew enough to be well aware that _that_ shit, the way they were moving together so gracefully and quickly, was impossible to do spontaneously. Seriously, what the actual fuck did those guys do in their free time? Foraging, cooking, cleaning, fighting, . . . and now dancing? Even if they were talking in their heads, it still didn't account for Iggy's reaction time. This shit had to be heavily rehearsed.

As Laura grasped at Iggy's masked cheek and dragged her fingers down the line of his jaw, Iggy tilted his chin into her hand before grasping at her hips, lifting her in the air, and flinging her in a circle. Ragged breaths, floating spins, light steps, elegant twirls, and that billowing skirt of hers clinging to Iggy's long legs with each step—they'd all been wrong. She wasn't Queen of the Night Sky, and he wasn't Ice Cold; she was water and he was fire. Fire and water were dancing together, and it was just as fucking beautiful as it was deadly.

And damn, why was it so hot?

Gladio turned for a second to check on Noct and Luna before Iggy and Laura commanded his attention again. What could Laura have possibly said to convince this man, who had just the other day been too shy to wear swim trunks in front of the four of them, to basically pre-fuck his girlfriend in front of three hundred people? Maybe that was part of her magic. Or maybe that was just Iggy. The man was obviously deep waters, and no way was anyone ever gonna figure him out.

On the final note, Gladio's breath caught in his lungs as Iggy slapped a hand against Laura's throat, dropping to one knee so she landed in a back-bending dip over his outstretched thigh, his face leaning over her heaving chest in a slight bow as the entire ballroom erupted with applause.

Gladio glanced back at Noct again, but he was alone—eyes wide and fingers pressed to his lips. Gladio hoped that meant what he thought it meant. Mission accomplished, and maybe their little Prince was growing into a King—one way or another.

"That did the trick!" Gladio said with a grin as Laura and Iggy approached. "Not gonna lie you guys, that was some of the hottest shit I've ever seen."

Iggy nodded once, staring down at the floor in silence, what little skin that was visible around his eyes bright red.

"Thanks, babe," Laura said, taking Iggy's hand. "I think we're going to draw attention to ourselves for the rest of the night, so we're gonna head out—unless you need anything."

"Hell no, you guys go enjoy yourselves. Paid extra to get you a really late checkout, so take advantage of it, if ya know what I mean. Now get the hell outta here."

She put a hand on his shoulder to pull his face down near hers. "Thank you, Gladio," she said in a soft voice in his ear before pressing her lips to his cheek below the line of his mask. "You don't know what this means."

"Anything for the two of you; you know that," he said. "Now go on."

He watched the two of them haul ass out the door, thinking of whether he should grab Noct, find Prompto, and head back to the hotel. Deciding they'd stretched their luck as much as they could've for one night, he was about to do just that when he heard a voice behind him.

"Hey, stranger. You here on business or pleasure?"

Gladio grinned. Maybe he could mix a little of both tonight, if he was really, really lucky.


	47. Chapter 47

**Author's Note:  
**

Warning: NSFW

* * *

Once he'd taken her hand to help her step out of the gondola, Ignis dragged her along behind him toward the entrance to the hotel, and his silence, along with the black clouds of a storm brewing in his mind, was beginning to worry her—not that she hadn't been worried for him all day. That dichotomy between his mind and actions had returned in full force today as he'd joked and teased and opened up to the boys. He'd even kept up the façade with her, pretending he was perfectly all right while his mind was all the while roaring with dread and mourning.

She thought she knew what this was about—Gentiana's 'phophecy,' but as it pertained to his direct future, she couldn't discuss it with him until he brought it up and told her what he knew. He shouldn't have even known what little he did; it had only been safe so far because the warning had been vague and given by someone within his own timeline. But while Laura had appreciated Gentiana's warning, as it had allowed her to fruitlessly monitor the situation as it approached, Ignis was only suffering because he'd been there to hear it.

But something had changed in him at the masquerade as she'd teased him and got him to enjoy himself: his mind had turned dark, desperate, and roiling with an aching hunger and tightening coil that she'd never seen in him. As much as she wished he would just talk to her about what was bothering him, she was all too willing to help him exorcise these particular demons from himself, and then perhaps he would finally feel free enough to open up to her.

To the untrained eye of the receptionist, Ignis was perfectly cool and composed—inquiring after the check-out time in a lilting tone and thanking Tiffany for her time, but Laura could see the tension in his jaw, the way he refused to let go of his grip on her hand, and the tightness around his stormy emerald eyes under that mask.

The moment he'd opened the door to their room, he ripped off his mask and flung it on the bed. After yanking the fingers of his gloves loose, he tossed them on the desk next to the door.

"Ignis," she whispered as he advanced on her, his teeth clenched and bared into a snarl.

Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pushed her against the open door behind her, stumbling forward until it slammed into place, knocking the breath from her lungs as he smashed his lips and teeth against hers with a desperate moan. She grasped at his head, digging her fingers underneath the upper layers of his hair down to his scalp and sliding her nails up to his pate, grabbing two handfuls of the strands. He shuddered in pleasure, swirling his tongue over hers as he swiveled his rock-hard cock against her hip.

 _I can't believe you managed to talk me into that,_ he said darkly, reaching for the invisible zipper at the back of her dress.

Her hands tightened in his hair, just a little, before she slid one down his chest, past his belt, and over the thick, engorged flesh tugging at the fabric of his trousers.

 _All in the line of duty. And don't pretend as though you didn't enjoy it yourself,_ she purred, squeezing him for emphasis.

He ripped his mouth away from her, his eyes shooting to the ceiling as he panted.

"Rose," he groaned. "By the gods, it's been far too long."

"No one said you had to wait ten days to find relief, loon," she smiled into his neck as he bucked into her hand, his own hands having stilled at her back. She breathed him in—the scent of sage and clean man, the warmth of his soft skin, that beautiful neck of his—she had to drag her tongue over it, to taste him as he shivered under her. "Honestly, your sense of self-control astounds me. Your age and virility? _One_ day is a feat."

He leaned down, groaning into her shoulder, as his hands finally found the thread that would reveal the pull of her zipper, and for once, he didn't marvel at the fact that he'd touched technology that wouldn't be invented on his world for probably about a thousand years.

"Finally alone," he mumbled into her neck, still pressing every inch of himself against her body, against her grasping hand. "Finally, no one and nothing to get back to."

His hand at her zipper had finally reached the small of her back, but he didn't part her dress. Instead, his hands gently framed her mithril mask, pulling it at the angle that would release the wardrobe glue without leaving any on her face.

Honestly, it was as though he'd been born to live in the future.

After loosening the knot in his cravat and slipping it over his head, Laura took the opportunity to unbutton his waistcoat before setting to work on the little gold buttons of his dress shirt. Ignis placed her mask on the desk beside the door with a gentle tinkle of metal on wood, followed by his cufflinks. She could feel the shift of his weight beneath her hands as he toed off his dress shoes and pushed them to the side with a sweep of a foot, nothing but the sounds of their heavy breaths between them. The careful gentility with which he did these things belied his desperation, but cracks were beginning to show in that meticulously crafted façade of his when she pushed every layer covering the top of his body off his shoulders, and he swung them around to toss them on the back of desk chair haphazardly, pressing himself into her again as he latched onto the pulse point of her neck with insistent lips and tongue.

"Ignis," she breathed into his hair, that beautiful heat of anticipation beginning to make her breathless. It _had_ been far too long since he'd been inside her, in reality, and perhaps this desperation of theirs could be the perfect opportunity to encourage him to let go of those more primal emotions he'd always held back with her out of courtesy.

Curling his long fingers around the neckline of her dress, he parted the fabric and pulled down slowly, revealing her inch by inch until it fell in a puddle at her feet with a rustle and puff of air. It was only when his hands reached for her ribs and found velvet instead of skin that he looked down.

"Rose," he gasped, grazing his fingertips over the navy-blue velvet and the cream-colored bows and lace of her cinched corset. They stilled on the straps of her garters as he let out a shuddering breath. "You should have told me. I would've been more careful with you on the dance floor. How you managed to move like that . . .. Forgi—"

"Stop right there," she interrupted, trailing her hands up his chest and cupping his jaw, smiling up at him. "The planet Lingeri, sixty-fourth century."

"I beg your pardon?" he asked melodiously, his brow scrunching adorably in confusion.

"A tiny little planet with one export: lingerie, perfected over the centuries for fighting, dancing, any sort of movement. Lies flat under any garment, too. I helped stop a century-long war with a neighboring solar system, ending the Great Panty Raids of the sixty-fourth century, and the High King gave me this and hundreds of other pieces as payment."

"The Great Panty Raids of— You're making this up!" he accused, his hands still rubbing up and down the ribbing of the corset, pausing now and then to finger the bows at the front of her hips.

"I most certainly am not!"

Pleased was an understatement for his reaction as he stroked her curves, his pupils dilating as his eyes locked on the tops of her breasts swelling and contracting with her every breath.

"Can we," he swallowed, his eyes darting up to hers. "May we keep it on?"

Knowing how much the velvet against his skin would drive him wild, she pulled him toward her, wrapping her lips around his collarbone and inserting a hand between them to undo his belt buckle.

 _So very beautiful,_ she said, tasting his warm skin as he moaned at the sensation of the velvet rubbing against the planes of his chest and abdomen. Just the freedom of being able to touch him however she liked made her spirit feel whole in a way she hadn't since Ravatogh. _Of course we can._

He pulled away long enough to pull off his socks and step out of the trousers and boxer-briefs she'd maneuvered around his stiff erection and down to his ankles, and she took the opportunity to dismiss her dress away. He surprised her when he returned, dropping to his knees and pressing his mouth against her panties, his breath hot and wet against her as his fingers reached for the ties at the sides of her hips.

"Astrals, I _want_ you. You smell _so_ good," he said, and his voice sounded almost pained with conflict as he stared up at her with wide, luminous eyes.

She gazed back down at him tenderly, stroking his jaw with a gentle hand, allowing the power of their bond to prickle at her fingertips and sink into his skin. He closed his eyes as she entreated, "I'm yours. Just take me, Ignis, please."

Something seemed to darken in his eyes as the muscles in his jaw twitched, and he yanked at the ties, pulling her panties free of the garters and tossing them aside. Bending low and skimming his fingers down her legs, he took a moment to caress the sparkling silver straps of her shoes, just below where Eilendil's heart had been moved for the evening around her ankle.

"Beautiful," he murmured before hitching her leg up over his shoulder and burying his face between her legs, forcing his hot, wet tongue between her folds and wriggling against her already dripping sex.

Laura leaned back against the door so he could have better access despite their disparate heights. _More, oh please, Ignis, more_ , she begged _._ Tilting her head back and gasping at that tingling wave of _want_ trickling down her legs and making her knees weak, she braced herself with a gentle hand to the top of his head.

 _Have I ever told you how much I love the taste of you? Salty, sweet, that indefinable musk that is all your own._ He moaned as he pushed two fingers deep into her, pressing his thumb against her clit. _I could drink it from you now, you're so wet for me._

"Oh my god," she whispered, feeling the sensation of a telepathic tongue and teeth at both of her nipples. "Ignis."

Really, she should have known better than to teach him this; he was going to kill her with it now. As it was, in these short five weeks since he'd first put his tongue to her, he'd already learned how to most efficiently pull her apart at the seams.

 _Yesss,_ he hissed as he bit down sharply on both breasts before soothing them over with soft lips. _You know what that does to me when you call out my name like that. Say it again._ He pulled back just long enough to nip hard at her inner thigh before burying his tongue in her again.

"Ignis!"

It was quiet in the dark room, enhancing the sounds of her sopping sex, her breathless sighs of his name, and his growls of encouragement as he moved in her. But just as she was about to let go and crest that wave tingling to the tips of her toes, he pulled out and away, scooping her legs out from underneath her as he stood in one fluid movement. She didn't have time to register the shock or sudden emptiness she felt at the change as he tossed her bodily on the bed, leaping on top of her and pinning her wrists with a hand, her ankles with his legs.

It appeared as though she'd frustrated him more than she'd intended this evening, but that wicked, mischievous part of her was eager to see just how far he would take this. He'd always been so gentle, so reverent each time they'd made love, with a few momentary exceptions. Any time he'd thrust a little too forcefully, run his teeth across her skin a little too sharply, uttered a vulgarity, or did anything that was intended more for his pleasure than her worship, she'd rewarded him with a gasp of his name and a rush of heat through their connection. And fuck, he had to have felt how much it had turned her on the day before yesterday when he'd uttered that word in the shower.

He faltered wrestling her into submission for a moment when she fought against him, the stirrings of remorse growing in the burgundy thread in her mind, but she reassured him with waves of naked lust—the struggle was part of the fun.

Gripping her more tightly to keep her still, he crooned in a dark, velvet voice, "Hush now, you know you want this." He thrust against her, sliding through her sex, still slick and hot from her arousal and his saliva. "Testing and teasing me all evening as you have."

She nodded, whimpering, "Yes, please, Ignis."

He buried his nose at the juncture of her shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply. "I can smell it on you, your desire for me. Gods, it makes me want to—" He bit down on the sensitive skin sharply, but even through the brewing storm of passion in his mind, he was careful not to mark her.

Suddenly pulling away and sitting up, he reached for her, thrusting his cock, slippery with her fluid and his precum, into her hand and squeezing her fingers around him into a fist. Oh, god, who was this man who simply took what he wanted? And how could she get more of him? As she ran her thumb along his rim, he threw his head back and closed his eyes, rocking into her.

"Feel that, Rose. Feel what you do to me," he murmured. "All my life I've been in control of everything. But in these last months, I've found myself experiencing this unmanageable desire as I drive the long roads, walk the meandering paths, and stroll the city streets. Look at what you've reduced me to."

"And it's stunning," she said, emphasizing her point with a tighter squeeze to his head. "I love you like this. I love you every way that you are."

He seemed to bite back a cry as he snatched himself out of her hand and grasped his base to line himself up, slipping his head just inside to tease her. Like ramming a blade into flesh, he thrust up roughly, and they both shuddered together at the delicious violence of it.

"Fuck, Rose!" he gasped vehemently as he set a savage pace, thrusting in sharp, quick jerks so that her hips pushed into the mattress with each advance. By god, she loved it when that word fell from those perfectly elegant, courteous lips of his, and as she clung to his shoulders, she leaned up to taste them, whimpering at his assault.

He gasped when she wrapped her legs carefully around his hips so as not to hurt him with the heels of her shoes, pushing him deeper into her, and the hands that hadn't ceased rubbing at the velvet of her corset finally stilled for a moment. "Is this what you wanted, my dear? Did you want me to fuck you like this? To drive my cock into you until you've forgotten your own name?"

"Yesss," she moaned.

"Gods damn it, Rose. You're hot, so hot and tight around me, I can feel myself stretching you. So warm, so wet. All these long years I've spent in service to royalty and look at you. A crowned queen, my _wife_ ," he growled through clenched teeth, his eyes darting up to the collection of diamonds and sapphires in her hair, "writhing beneath me."

The spear of shock and heat at his words passed through her into him, but she could feel the undercurrent of his thoughts: _Oh, ever-loving Astrals, did I really just say all that out loud?_

 _Yes, you did. Don't stop._ Already having been driven to the edge once this evening, she could feel herself getting closer, her body tightening each time he sheathed himself inside her.

 _Mine,_ he punctuated with a thrust. _You are mine. Always, no matter what happens._

Oh, Ignis, here it was—the root of this desperation was beginning to seep through the cracks of the walls of that exquisite burgundy mind of his. She desperately wanted to soothe him, to shore him up and keep him strong, but he needed this, needed to break if she was ever to reassure him that the situation wasn't completely hopeless.

His pace slowed with his words as he adjusted the angle of his thrusts, rubbing his rim right where he knew she loved it most, and _oh god,_ that prickling shiver raced up and down her spine as she felt every contour of his silky skin caress her from the inside. She couldn't hold back the shuddering gasps and tightening clenches each time their hips touched and he was fully seated inside her.

"Ignis, please, love."

"I'll never tire of watching your face as I come into you, as you come onto me. And even as we leave our sanctuary and join the world once more, knowing that your body houses my seed fills me with fierce pride and profound joy that I never would have expected to feel." The tone of his voice took on an almost panicked desperation as he buried his face in her neck. "You are mine, my wife, my lover, just as I am yours. Forever."

This was too much, more than she could bear. Their lovely feedback loop, which had only been used for pleasure in the past, was now tainted with black streaks of his anguish, and now hers, but they were both too close to the edge to be deterred by it. With his final three thrusts before they both broke on each other, she could hear the thoughts he'd been holding back, and it felt as though her soul was going to tear in two along with the orgasm ripping through her body.

 _Thank you. I love you. Goodbye,_ he whispered to himself before he let go with a cry of her name.

She stroked her nails lightly down the ridges of his backbone, soothing him as they rode out the shockwaves together, as he filled her with his wet, warm come with each shivering pulse. But as she tried to push him to the side so she could demand that he just _talk_ to her, he forced his arms underneath her back, clutching her more tightly to him.

"I just need to know one thing," he said in a low, choked voice into her ear.

"Please, Ignis. I can't tell you anything until you tell me what you know."

"Will I die tomorrow at the speech or the following day at the rite?"

Laura blinked in surprise, pulling her head away and doing her best to turn to look at him. "You see? This is why you need to talk to me. What?" Had he been thinking his death was a certainty this entire time?

"'The Mate lives or dies by your choice,'" he said in a strangled whisper. "Either I am going to die during the next two days or you are, and I would rather it be me. But given that I am to complete the map to Pitioss after the rite, it seems as though you're planning for it to be you."

"First of all," she said, probably not completely keeping the irritation out of their connection or her voice, "it's my choice to make—not yours, like it or not. As a time insensitive being, you shouldn't even be aware there is a choice, but here we are."

Looking ahead, she knew that tomorrow would be fine, but the day of the rite was a complete, indecipherable mess—tangled with fixed points, potential divergence points, and about ten thousand flux points. Opening her time sense, she could see those fearsome fixed points still hovering, the only parts of the timeline that held still while the rest whirled around in writhing, seething chaos. But each time she'd tried to decipher them, to find out _what_ events of that day would be fixed, the answers eluded her like a thief in the night. She wouldn't know what they were until they stumbled right on top of the event, it seemed, as usual.

"It would be the day of the rite, but I suppose I should start from the beginning," she said with a sigh, and sensing a lecture, Ignis finally indicated he'd like to pull out of her. She summoned the wipes, and he took care of the two of them as quickly and efficiently as possible before settling down next to her, covering them with her blanket, and propping himself up on an elbow.

"There are three types of points in time. The first point is a fixed point. No matter what happens, this event must occur. They are the main narrative that this universe is supposed to have and cannot be changed."

"What happens if something interferes?" he asked.

"I did that once," she whispered in shame. "The Doctor took me back in time to be with my dad before he got hit by a car, but I saved him and nearly ended the entire universe in the process. My dad had to throw himself in front of that car in the end, just to put things right and reverse the sterilization process that had already begun."

"I see," he said diplomatically, but he settled a hand on her hip, stroking softly in an effort to comfort her.

"The next kind of point is a flux point. These are events that can change little details of the universe's narrative, and the universe adjusts to compensate for them, but the main narrative remains untouched. I can change or influence these points at will."

The chaos of the flux points was far more comforting than the fixed points, in her opinion, even if they did so often spell death for Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio—nearly every day. But there was something different about this prophesied one from Gentiana. It felt heavier, as though it could turn into a divergence point if she slipped the wrong word in somewhere, if it wasn't averted at exactly the right moment.

"And because my death can be influenced by your choice, it is thus a flux point?" he asked, but his fingers tightened on her hip as his tone grew a sharp edge to it. "And what is the price for changing this event?"

"It's a flux point . . . for now. I'm not sure where you got the idea that it had to be your life or mine, but it doesn't work like that. There's a third option where we both live, and believe it or not, that's the one I'm aiming for."

He couldn't know just how very thin the margin was for that possibility, how very careful she would have to be in stepping in. Even in this conversation—if she said the wrong thing now, he could try to influence events and get one or both of them killed, perhaps even end the universe.

The hope glowing in his eyes at her words made her hearts clench. "Truly?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'm not frightened," she said, trying to be as honest with him as she could. The rite would be dangerous, for all of them. Even Prompto or Gladio could die if things didn't go just the right way. Still, the flux points of their potential deaths seemed lighter, somehow—easier to change than Ignis's. "I could save the world but lose you."

Of course, if it was necessary, she'd pay the price of her life to save his—not only because she'd promised both him and Regis, but because he was easily worth it, the best of humanity lying here unassuming in her arms. No matter what, she wouldn't allow his death to be her fault; her husband would burn his full potential, with or without her.

"That's as it should be," he said gravely, responding to her words and not her hidden thoughts. "Your life, and the lives of the world, hold far more value than mine."

At the very least, they could agree that both their lives didn't come before the entire planet, but how did one measure the value of a single life? Length lived meant nothing, of course—she was old enough to know that a longer life wasn't always a better one. Was it number of people saved? Taking into account the ratio of lives saved to lives lost, Ignis's record was far cleaner than hers. And god—his soul—there was no contest there. But there was no point arguing with him; even simply feeling her disagreement in his head had him shaking his own back and forth in tiny jerks.

After a moment, he sighed and closed his eyes. "You said 'for now.' It can become a fixed point, or the third type?"

"It can become the third type—a divergence point, which we _absolutely cannot_ make. There are certain events that can go either way, and are significant enough to split this universe off into multiple threads. Normally, universes come pre-split, but they can very rarely split spontaneously . . . unless I'm present."

"And what happens if a new universe is created while you're present? I remember you mentioning before that you couldn't create an alternate version of yourself, but what would happen if you did?"

"There would be two of me, eventually four, eventually infinity, all with the power of time, space, and universes; all able to jump dimensions; all unable to exist in the same dimension at once, just like with me and Eos, but worse. I must remain a unique event in the multiverse, completely pan dimensional."

When Ignis's brow furrowed, she reached up to smooth it with a gentle thumb, but his voice was still troubled when he asked, "Won't my living instead of dying create a new thread?"

"Not necessarily. Flux points and divergence points—they depend on so many factors I can't explain. It's instinct for me that I know as it's happening."

He huffed in frustration, and she had to smile a little at his impatience. How many years of temporal mechanics had she had to take in order to understand these concepts that she was reducing down to a single conversation? "I don't understand what makes flux points and divergence points different. The outcome, obviously, but the point itself?"

"All right—flux points. Say you're trying to decide between wearing your jacket tomorrow or not. The universe doesn't care if you make that choice, and it compensates for your decision. Some minor things may change—maybe someone thinks you look hotter with your jacket off and decides to kiss you in the street, but the main narrative for the universe stays the same.

"But if wearing your jacket tomorrow started a series of events that led to the end of all mankind, then not wearing your jacket would start a new universe. Understand?"

"Well, if anything, you've made me suddenly anxious about my clothing choices." He sighed before speaking in a bitter tone, "I don't care for the fact that my path is set in stone."

"I know it seems like it is, but it isn't. There are hundreds of millions of you out there right now, living out every decision you've ever made significant enough to create a divergence point. You just happened to be assigned to this one. And you can still influence your own flux points, too."

His mind grew worried as he wriggled his arm beneath her and pulled her flush against him, toying gently at the bow at the back of her corset, untying it and beginning to loosen the laces absent-mindedly. "On the off-chance you can answer, will Noct be all right?"

Even though the floor seemed to drop out from beneath her back at that moment, she stifled the sharp inhalation she so desperately wanted to take.

So he didn't know. Did Noct know? Whatever happened at that rite, Noct had to live, because he had to die in another time and place. It was fixed, and no matter how many times she'd gone over it, with and without Regis, there was no path of the timeline she could see that would get that stubborn fixed point to move. Of course, he could always die at the rite, but as the entire world would then likely end, nothing would matter at that point.

And looking at the timelines now—she couldn't tell him, oh _god,_ she couldn't tell him. His damned obstinance when it came to Noct would mean he would do something at this rite to change the course of events. He could be informed, perhaps, by someone in his own timeline after certain fixed events passed, but what would that mean to him if the truth hadn't come from her? Noct was the only thing they'd ever fought about, the only thing that overrode her. What would he do, how would he react if he learned of Noct's fate? She would have to tell him she'd known all along—honesty and openness were paramount to a marriage that would last a lifetime, and she never could bring herself to lie to him.

And he would despise her for it. And there was nothing she could do but wait for it to happen.

"I'm so sorry. I can't tell you that," she managed in a steady tone, but oh, how she wanted to be weak, to have him hold her against his soft, hard, warm body as she wept into his chest for their future loss—to either death or betrayal, to make him promise that he wouldn't leave her no matter what happened.

But in nearly every sense, she was the Doctor now, and she had to be the strong one, even as it killed her to do so.

"And I'm assuming what few plans you involved me in so far are all we can do to prepare?" he asked gently into her forehead, the images of his training flashing through his mind.

Steeling her mind and shoring up her hearts, she said, "I started teaching you because I wanted you to stop getting hurt and because you had the potential. It had nothing to do with the rite." Though she had to admit, she felt much better for his chances of survival with him going into this at his current level of proficiency. "But no, there's nothing we can do to plan." Because there never was in these damn situations.

"I don't understand how you're capable of living like this, of rushing headlong into danger without so much as an inkling of intention."

"It's just like how I taught you—the onslaught of information is too much to plan for, so you just have to let it wash over you and use your instinct."

She could feel him wanting to say something else, something dark and heartbreaking, but he hesitated. "Let it all out now, love," she said before pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat. "We're going to enjoy the rest of this night and all day tomorrow. We'll not allow this darkness to ruin it."

She could feel him nod as he said, "I imagine this has something to do with the Chancellor. If he is, in fact, able to infect someone with Starscourge, do you know if you are immune?"

"I don't. It's possible I am; there are many human diseases to which I'm immune, but there's only one way to find out for certain, and I'm not keen on trying it."

"Best not to chance it, yes," he agreed. The air was heavy with the silence for a moment, and his fingers seem to dig into the ribbons at her back a little before he continued, "Should I be the one to contract the scourge, you have my permission—no—I request that you eliminate me without regret or hesitation."

She'd been trying her best not to envision such a scenario—the whites of his beautiful green eyes blackened with disease as they had for that man, his lovely creamy skin pulsing with vicious poison—all before he lost his invaluable mind and transformed into a grotesque mockery of everything he'd been in life. She would do what needed to be done without hesitation because his exceptional soul didn't deserve to exist in such a state for even a moment, but the thought of events having degraded to such depravity . . . no.

"I would. I promise."

"Thank you."

"The same for me, too, you know," she murmured, and he sucked in a breath before nodding. "I think I've told you all I can. Does it make you feel at least a little better about things?" she asked, dragging her lips through the light brown, sparse hairs on his chest, tickling him a little.

"Than being absolutely certain that one of us is going to die in two days? Yes, immensely so."

The ribbon on her corset finally loose enough to maneuver over her head, he helped her remove it before kneeling at her feet to unstrap her shoes and sliding her stockings down her legs. He came up to press his lips against her forehead before pulling back, his eyes raised to the crown on her head. "Your Majesty," he began, but she cut him off.

"Please, not you. Never you."

"You permitted Gladio to use your title this evening, why not me?" he asked, looking down at her in concern.

"Perhaps it's unfair of me," she admitted, "but Gladio means it out of casual respect. When you say it, all I can think of are those days after Longwythe."

"That truly bothered you so much? I'd thought it was the use of the title itself."

"Not so much the title as what it represented—your free spirit, tamed, subservient, broken."

"I wouldn't say I was broken when I met you," he said, his gaze drifting away from her face. "Though . . . perhaps not entirely whole, either."

"Ignis," she whispered, leaning up to capture his lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. He tilted his head, his hand coming around to twine in her hair as he flicked his nimble tongue out for a teasing taste of her.

Between gentle, nibbling caresses of his lips, he said, "As I was saying, Rose, would you permit me to remove your royal crown?"

Despite his polite, musical tone, she could still feel the amazement and incredulity in his mind at his words—after all he'd just said and done to her.

"Please, do, though you hardly need to ask permission after that seduction you just performed."

"I confess I enjoyed . . . being like that more than I thought I would," he mumbled, the heat rising to his cheeks as he looked down at her shoulder.

She blew out a huff of a laugh through her nose before saying, "Good. Sweet and reverent is wonderful—so warm, loving, and tender, but watching you let go and be a bit filthy is . . . delicious."

"Hmm," he replied, reaching up toward her crown in an attempt to hide the pink on his cheeks deepening, as he no doubt knew she could still see them even in the darkened room.

Ever so gently, he picked out the fifty or so pins holding the crown to her hair with nimble fingers, pausing every once in a while to roll over and place a few on the bedside table. Laura watched him work admiringly in silence—the way his serious eyes would dart back and forth over his work, a little frown of concentration tugging down the corner of his lips; the dedication he put forth, no matter how mundane the chore; the careful questing of his fingertips as he searched for the next pin; the way he organized the task, ensuring that every pin was pulled from an area before moving on to the next. The only sounds between them were their gentle breaths mixing in the air and his occasional hum as his hands brushed against yet another pin.

 _How do you not have a splitting headache from this thing?_ he asked as he finally removed the heavy mass of metal and precious stones.

 _I could tell you some stupid ass metaphor I kept hearing about the weight of the crown on the monarch's head, but I'll spare you._

 _Well, if it's true, it's true, though the crowns of Lucian royalty tend to be less extravagant for that reason._ He moved to set it on the bedside table, but she laid out a hand to stop him.

 _Sorry, I don't like to have it out long,_ she said as she took it from him and dismissed it. _It means a lot to me._

 _No need to apologize. I'm surprised you wore it tonight._

 _Nowhere else I do these days. And I love it more for sentimental reasons than the meaning behind it. A dear friend made it for me from stones I got from James and Eilendil._

As soon as he had her hair free of stray pins, he ran his fingers up her neck and into her hair, rubbing hard at her scalp in tight circles until she closed her eyes and hummed softly. He leaned forward to press soft, sweet kisses to her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, and underneath her ears, as he continued to massage her scalp.

"Where do you want to go tonight?" she asked softly. "I want to make you smile."

In response to her words, his eyes seemed to lighten as his lips slowly pulled wide, showing off the very tips of his upper teeth. "My own personal goddess dedicated to making me happy. How did I get to be so fortunate?"

"You said yes," she said simply, though it hadn't been a simple matter for him to do so—not to her. Her experience in life proved that very few ever would. Even bonded as they were, he might very soon find out that the cost of being with her was too great, but she couldn't dwell on that thought. As she'd just finished telling him, tonight and tomorrow were to be about them—celebrating that they'd found each other amidst this endless sea of people and getting to experience that one emotion that could bring down empires, that could inspire a being to stretch beyond the possibilities of their limited existence and create something everlasting, that could move even the most powerful beings in all of creation to docility.

His eyebrows twitched into a furrow as he frowned in thought. "I confess I haven't given it much consideration today. As much as I'd like to complete that quantum chemistry course, I find I'm in the mood for something. . . simpler and more cheerful. Would you mind choosing?"

Unbeknownst to him, she and Eilendil had already planned on surprising him this evening with a flight over the forest during the Arkheincantern, when the Arkhein would shake their spirits free from their wood-bound bodies and sing in celebration of the coming of spring. But there was time to fit another adventure in before that, and since he wasn't in the mood for attending a lecture, ballet, or an exotic planet as he so often preferred, tonight would be the perfect opportunity for giving him back part of his childhood.

Part of the reason why her dear husband never seemed to fit in with others was that he'd never had the same opportunities as other children—to laugh, to play, to experience joy and wonder. He didn't even realize that it was something he'd been missing in his life, something that affected his ability to laugh now as an adult, to even know what _joy_ felt like. Little experiences, like taking his boots off in the grass and spinning or building pillow forts and reading by flashlight, were some of the subtler adventures she tried to squeeze into his life to correct this travesty, and if he was giving her the opportunity, she had just the thing.

When they met on the bridge, she let her eyes travel from his boots to his dress shirt. "Would you mind terribly if I dressed you for the occasion?"

He raised a single eyebrow at her, his lips twitching up a little at the corner. "As though I were I doll?" He mock-sighed wearily. "Very well. I suppose no one will truly see me anyway."

She smirked at him in return before blinking—changing his winklepickers to Italian oxfords, not terribly different from his usual style, and his jacket and coeurl-print dress shirt to a cozy cream-colored turtleneck and black peacoat with a dark purple cashmere scarf. His trousers she left as they were, as she'd always secretly loved the way the stripes down the sides accentuated the length of his legs. It would hardly be an appropriate outfit for what they were doing had they been in the real world, but he was beautiful, and they weren't in the real world.

"Hmm," he said introspectively, looking down at himself. "I have to admit I was expecting something far more . . . traumatizing. This might even be something I would wear in Insomnia—on one of my more casual days, perhaps."

"Well, I would _hope_ you would trust me not to put you in a clown outfit!" she said with a laugh, and his quirked lips stretched up even further into an amused grin. Leaning up to place a peck on his chin, she whispered, "Close your eyes."

When she'd created the scene around them, she took him by the wrist and pressed a steaming cardboard cup of his favorite hot coffee in his hand, perhaps with the tiniest bit of milk and pumpkin spice—it was fall, after all, and she knew he'd hate the syrupy sweetness that was the classic pumpkin spice latte.

"You can use that to keep your hands warm, or there are some gloves in your pocket," she said as he opened his eyes, but the coffee and the gloves were forgotten in favor of his surroundings.

"Autumn, lovely," he whispered in awe, his green eyes growing light and bright in the late morning sun, which was shafting through the trees in bright beams, highlighting fiery reds, glowing golds, flaming oranges, and even the vibrant greens of the still-growing grass sticking up in patches through the blanket of leaves. "We have autumn in Insomnia, of course, but there aren't enough trees to make it this . . . stunning."

"Come on then," she said with a grin, taking his free hand in both hers and skipping backwards along the path to the lake. "Let's go for a walk."

His mind was still and silent as they walked hand in hand, their feet kicking through the deep layer of dry, crunchy leaves on the path and filling the crisp, cool air with the sound of roaring waves of rustling. Each time the breeze would blow through the trees, creating that incomparable sighing psithurism, he would lift his face to the sky, breathing in deeply before taking another sip of his coffee. She would've thought he'd have grown used to walking in the wilderness by now and would find it dull, but the peace in his expression told a different story. He didn't need to protect anyone here, as no wild animal or daemon was about to come out and attack them, so he was able to completely let go of being the wary lookout and truly enjoy the marvel around him.

She noted with pride that he dismissed his own coffee cup when he'd finished, just as they came within sight of the massive black lake—its dark, flat waters acting as the perfect mirror to reflect the vivid colors of the tree line back up to the sky, creating an almost disorienting effect of the forest dipping below their feet.

"The absolute peace of this place, the quiet—this is tranquil," he said on a sigh, his expression reflecting his words.

It was funny he would say such a thing, as she was just about to upend that peace and quiet and make a little noise.

"Ignis," she said, her voice growing soft with barely contained excitement as she grabbed for his hand, because _this_ was the best part of living. This racing in her hearts, this bubbling in her chest that set her teeth on edge, knowing that he would be joining her in this sweeping emotion in mere moments—this was what living was _for_. "Run!"

With a shriek of laughter, she turned and took off, but he'd grown used to that command by now and was right beside her, laughing at her joy and absurdity as they sloshed through the thick forest floor along the shoreline and startled a flock of magenta and turquoise Phlathian geese with their commotion.

 _Do you see that giant leaf pile up ahead?_ she asked, indicating the messy mosaic of dead leaves about seven feet high.

 _Yes,_ he said hesitantly, idly wondering whether she was about to inform him that it was going to come to life and swallow him whole, which wasn't completely contrary to what was about to happen.

 _I want you to leap into it._

 _Why?_

Why, indeed? This was part of his problem.

 _Joy,_ she said, allowing the anticipation to leak through their connection.

Still somewhat bemused as to the purpose, he did as she asked, using those long legs of his to leap through the air and dive headfirst into the unreasonably large pile of leaves, the envy of any child growing up in an area with an autumn. She lost her grip on his hand as her senses were drowned out by the darkness of the pile, the gentle rustling scratches on her skin, the scent of fresh decaying leaves, and the sound of crunching and . . . hysterical snorting laughter.

She surfaced to find him lying on his back, half eaten alive by the pile, his arms spread wide, his eyes scrunched closed, his mouth open and pulled wide, creases forming around his lips as he laughed freely up at the sky. Doing her best to heave her body over to him, she settled into his side as he hauled her close, still laughing with his eyes closed.

"Thank you," he said, his voice still wheezy with amusement, but as he looked down at her, his eyes were alight—grass green with life and wonder and elation. "I really do love you so completely, you know."

"As I love you," she said, her hearts swelling with affection. "The night's only beginning, though. Eilendil and I have a surprise for you."

His eyes wandered up to the bright lavender sky. "Do you think we could lie here for a bit, perhaps . . . do that again before we go?"

She stretched her neck out to place a lingering, wet kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Whatever you wish."


	48. Chapter 48

**Author's Note:  
**

Warning: NSFW again. That's right . . . again.

* * *

Ignis first came to awareness with a face-full of pillowcase, and he smiled contentedly, burying his nose into the scent of fresh laundry detergent and wriggling his naked body to feel the sheets brushing against his skin, perverse yet enjoyable as the sensation was. He reached out a hand, expecting to find Rose's warm body next to him, but his fingers only met cold sheets. He'd just been with her; where had she gone?

"Stay right there," he heard her soft voice call from near the door. "Don't you dare even move."

"As you wish," he spoke into the pillow, muffling his words completely.

Rustling—was she removing clothes? A dip at the foot of the mattress, the caress of her hair up his legs and back, the brush of her warm bare skin, the scent of pine and kithairon mixing in with the sheets—he sighed in contentment as her full weight settled on his back, her hands spreading wide over his ribs and her lips and tongue latching immediately to the most sensitive spot at the back of his neck.

What a difference a single conversation made. With the knowledge that he and Rose weren't necessarily doomed to die tomorrow for certain, it became almost another day, for it seemed they were all constantly hovering on the verge of dying on most days. And no matter what was to happen tomorrow, today was a rare and exceptional occasion—for the first time since he'd met her, the first time in his life, he had an entire day dedicated to nothing but whatever his whims desired.

That wet, tingling heat at the back of his neck was traveling down to his groin, which was twitching as it lengthened into the mattress and currently telling him that what he desired was her.

"I didn't realize you could leave while we were on the bridge. Where did you go?" he asked, more from curiosity than concern.

She moved down to his shoulder, placing open-mouthed biting kisses across the muscle, making him shiver in delight.

 _It's going to rain this morning, so I got us breakfast to eat here. I'll be damned if you cook a single thing today._

"Mmm," he hummed, rolling to his side to dump her off him before grabbing her and pulling her back flush against his chest. "I must admit I'm not particularly interested in breakfast at the moment, but I appreciate your thoughtfulness nevertheless."

She sighed as he pressed his heavy length into her backside, bringing a hand to his hip to knead the muscle there and encourage him further. He'd never been with her in this position before, but as he angled himself between her legs, parting her lips to rub himself against her most sensitive areas and allowing her heat to drip down his erection, he had to admit he enjoyed how accessible her body was like this. His lips had free access to the back of her neck and the shell of her ear, two places that never failed to send a rush of warmth and a shiver through her, and his hands were free to thumb her soft pink areolae, skim down her belly and hips, and slip between her folds to massage that luscious secret place that never failed to make her breath hitch with want for him.

She angled her hips so he could easily slip inside her, and he had to close his eyes, grazing his teeth against her neck from the sheer relish he felt at becoming one with her. He could feel her rejoicing in their union as well, in the feeling of being whole and complete in that very moment, unrushed as they were.

Last night had been a combination of deliciously satisfying and appalling, loosing those dark desires hidden deep within himself—the part of him that relished in burying his daggers into the heart of his foes and sometimes whispered in his ear to bury himself to the hilt in her. He'd believed that darkness to be buried by a lifetime of gentility and courtesy, but it had been unearthed the moment he'd begun speaking to her in such a manner. At first, he was astonished to find that she enjoyed this more bestial nature of his, but he should have known better—she was his perfect match in every way—whether a goddess, queen, or simple lover.

That didn't mean this more reverent, gentle form of expression wasn't the epitome of his existence.

No telepathic tricks, no filthy words, no jarring thrusts—only the heat of their two bodies, the susurrus of soft skin against skin, a gentle caress of his hair, lingering sighs, his lips against her neck as they moved—intensely but unhurriedly, the need and pressure and pleasure mounting and building slowly like the climax of a good book. He held her close after, serenely breathing in her scent as he softened inside her, as she stroked his hip with her nails.

The gentle sound of splattering raindrops on concrete had just begun to drift through the open windows when she said softly, "Can I draw you a bath?"

A _bath_. How on Eos could she have known? As his own apartment only had a shower stall and he hadn't often had time to indulge in the hotels' tubs while on the road, soaking in a tub was one of Ignis's most cherished indulgences that he'd managed to experience least often in his life. The curling steam, the hot water soaking and warming him down to the bone, and the scent of his soap building with the humidity in the room had been heaven the four or five times he'd managed to find the time and facilities—when he'd lived at the Citadel or that fateful night in Galdin.

"I can draw my own," he said, not wishing to create work for her to do. Today was, after all, her day off as well. "Or . . . you could join me, and I could draw _us_ a bath." It was likely lecherous of him to wish for it, but the idea of her sharing the experience—of her wet, clean skin against his as they floated together in the soapy water seemed the only thing that could elevate the experience to divine.

"Sounds like a plan," she said, twisting around to press her lips to his before rolling out of bed. "You handle the water temperature, I handle the aroma therapy?"

"All right," he said suspiciously. There was something about that light in her eyes that told him she didn't mean a simple bar of soap run under the tap water.

After making their way across the room, nude, oddly enough, to the brightly-lit black-and-white tiled room, Ignis leaned over the tub and twisted the faucet, adjusting until the water was just beyond the point of being uncomfortable so it would be perfect after hitting the cool porcelain of the tub.

"Would you care to test the temperature?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Whatever's good for you is good for me." He heard the whoosh of her summoning and looked up in time to see her uncap a bottle and hold it out to him. "Is this all right for the scent? Not your usual sage, but I think it may suit you."

Breathing in, the aroma of the soap was brighter than he typically chose, but the scent was fresh and clean—peppermint and citrus, with perhaps some sort of woodiness and mossiness he couldn't identify.

"That's lovely, yes. Are you certain you wish to use something so lavish on an ordinary bath?"

"Nothing about today is going to be ordinary," she said, her words heavy like a promise, and Ignis had to push aside the reasons for her tone that flashed briefly through his mind. After all, even if tomorrow were just another day, it was true that today was a most extraordinary occasion—a celebration of their nuptials.

By the time he was finished brushing his teeth, the tub was nearly overflowing with creamy, foamy bubbles, and the steam in the room was thick with woody, spicy peppermint perfume.

"Dramatic, as always," he said with a wry smile, rolling his eyes. As he turned the water off and stepped into the tub, he noticed something even more dramatic than the bubbles. "Rose? Why does the water look like space?"

Shoving aside the five-inch-thick layer of bubbles, he could see that the water had been transformed into a vibrant deep blue, with curling swirls of glittering stars and gaseous nebulae orbiting his hands as he stirred his fingers through the water. He sat down, leaning back and letting the heat of the water loosen him even more than the serenity of the morning already had.

"Because it's fun," she said with a shrug, laying a towel over the vanity stool and pulling it up behind his head before taking a seat. "And because I could."

With a deep, contented sigh, he wrapped his arms over the cold porcelain sides of the tub, reveling in the temperature contrast as the waves of scented steam washed over his face.

"Are you not joining me?"

"In a bit," she said, conjuring a plastic cup and dipping it into the water. "My hair doesn't need washing today, but yours does. Just relax."

She'd washed his hair before, back in the shower in Lestallum, and Ignis had considered it to be one of the most pleasurable experiences of his life as she scraped her soapy nails through his scalp, sending streams of trickling pleasure prickling over his skin. But this was getting to be too much. He wasn't certain if he could handle being waited on hand and foot by her all day as though he were royalty.

"Hey," she said gently in response to his thoughts, leaning over his shoulder to meet his gaze with concerned eyes. "If you want to be left alone, I understand, but I happen to enjoy taking care of you, yeah? Truly, I really, really do."

Indeed she did, and that was part of the reason why they'd always worked so well together. From the very first time she'd accommodated his limitations when they'd made love in Lestallum, he had always seen very clearly in her mind that pleasing him, serving him, making him happy truly brought her contentment and completion. Looking into her mind now, which she had left wide open so he could feel the truth of her words, he could plainly see that she wasn't doing this out of a sense of obligation or because of what tomorrow might bring—she wanted to make him shiver, to pleasure him, to bring him as much happiness as he'd brought her. Though he still, after all this time, couldn't fathom how his mere existence brought her so much bliss, it seemed only logical to settle back and allow them to both enjoy each other's joy.

"I certainly do _not_ wish to be left alone," he said vehemently, tilting his head back as she let the hot water from the cup trickle down his head and shoulders. "It takes some getting used to, being cared for like this."

"I realize that. And it's more difficult like this, trying to cram all the spoiling in one day," she said after summoning his shampoo. "If we lived together like normal people, I certainly wouldn't be washing your hair every day!"

He chuckled a little, but it was cut off by a groan as that familiar satisfaction washed over him at the sensation of her fingertips digging into his scalp. Sighing again in pleasure, he leaned his head back as she massaged his hair, neck, and shoulders and imagined what a home life with her back in Insomnia would be like. Home—it wasn't really a concept he'd thought of in the way most people did. His apartment certainly hadn't been a home—more of a safe haven for quiet recuperation. Home to him had been the city, the Citadel, and most of all, Noct.

He and Laura had discussed at length before they'd bonded how they would handle the professional spheres of their lives. She had understood how all-encompassing his duties to the Crown were and was willing to be anything—whatever was of most help—to assist the kingdom and be with him. But he hadn't given any thought to what coming home to her would be like—of preparing supper together, of curling up in their bed and going on an adventure together, of waking up in the morning with a fresh cup of coffee and her bright eyes. The domesticity of it warmed him in a way the bathwater hadn't.

But they had to survive tomorrow, first, and then getting the Crystal back.

"What are you doing?" he asked suddenly when she'd leaned over to scoop up a handful of bubbles and rub them on his chin so that they hung down in a curtain around his face.

"Bubble beard," she replied as though that was meant to explain everything. "You may not have Santa Claus in this universe, but I bet the kids all tried to get a beard like Ramuh, or something, when they took a bath."

Ignis looked down at the ring of white around his face, scooped another handful of bubbles, and arranged them so they formed a long, tapered triangle down to his chest. The process was actually more diverting than he thought it would be. Still feeling somewhat ridiculous, he turned his head to grin up at her, even if she couldn't see his mouth through the thick layer of foam over his lips.

"How do I look?"

Her eyes grew soft, warm, and sparkling as she grinned back at him. "Absolutely, adorably ridiculous," she said, punctuating her words with kisses to his temple and a giggle.

Once she had finished rinsing his hair and had settled between his legs with her back to his chest, he took the opportunity to return her favor by soaping up a cloth and cleaning her, rubbing it meticulously and sensuously over every part of her body he could reach from his position as she leaned back into his shoulder and pressed the occasional kiss to his neck.

By the time he'd scrubbed her skin until it was petal soft and massaged her shoulders, neck, arms, and even her hands, the bubbles had disappeared to reveal that velvet sapphire of the night sky and its thousands of golden glittering stars. He feathered his hands over the surface of the water, idly watching the currents as she sat up between his legs and set to work on him in reciprocation—scrubbing everything from between his toes to his neck, even making him sit up to do his back, until his skin glowed pink.

As her fingers replaced the cloth, he leaned his head back, letting every muscle in his body go completely lax until he sunk into the sensation of the heat from the water and her gentle ministrations, letting it carry him away in a wave of blissful pleasure. But he had to crack an eyelid open when her open palm brushed reverently over his length, her mind growing mischievous and wanting.

"Rose, please don't feel as though you need to—" but his eyes fluttered closed of their own volition, his lips parted to inhale deeply as she closed a hand around him and tugged. He recovered just enough to grind out, "It's merely a byproduct of your touch, not an indicator of satiety."

He'd been half-hoping she wouldn't notice that seemingly insatiable member of his; he couldn't understand how simply being touched by her could lead him to this state whether it had been five minutes or five days since their last communion. Angling his hips so they sat in her lap and pushed him above the waterline, she leaned in to nuzzle him, her tongue darting out now and then to give him tiny teasing licks. How could he accept such a favor again, so soon after their last? But oh, Astrals, he felt so _good_ floating here amongst the warm and watery stars with her mouth doing the most incredible things to him.

"Seraphic, virile, and constantly wanting more," she said in a warm purr against his erection that seemed to shoot sparks up his spine and fog his brain. "Darling, if you wanted to do nothing else today but see how many times we could make you come, I would be _completely_ on board with that plan. It's not a favor; it's my pleasure, so don't even think about telepathically returning it. Just lie back and relax."

"While I confess I did have plans for leaving this room today, I'd be most agreeable to trying that out one day on you," he managed to wheeze in a most undignified manner as her mouth enveloped him and suckled lazily.

 _I'll hold you to that. For now, though, I want to watch you unravel beneath my tongue. I want to see the light in your eyes as you watch me service you._

He moaned her name, deep and low, as he forced himself to open his eyes to the sight of her gazing back at him with liquid blue fire, his swollen cock slowly disappearing inch by inch into that sinful mouth of hers. Tipping his head back and grasping the sides of the tub, he allowed himself to be swept away, completely swallowed whole by sensation—the tingling heat racing over his nerves, the heady scent of peppermint in the air, her intoxicating presence in his mind as she urged him on, the roaring of his blood in his head, his pounding heart, and his breathlessness. He tensed in anticipation of the wave that was building in his belly, but she placed a soft hand on the clenched muscles of his abdomen.

 _I want you to try something for me. Relax every muscle in your body. Don't try to seek it out._

He'd always felt somewhat guilty when she did this for him, no matter how much they both reveled in it, so he'd always made an effort to finish as quickly as possible, doing his best to swallow the feeling that it was an unforgiveable transgression to come down her throat as he did. She would always be his goddess made flesh, no matter what she was to the rest of creation, and using her like this would always feel simultaneously debasing and thrilling. Still, he couldn't believe she enjoyed it so.

Allowing himself to relax as she suggested, he found that the tightening coil inside him loosened, chasing his impending climax away but leaving the promise of delicious pleasure on the horizon. Yes, he would last a bit longer in this state, but why was she encouraging such a practice?

 _Very good,_ she cooed. _Now hold that as long as you can._

Her instructions seemed simple enough to follow, but as she continued to work him, flicking her tongue against the sensitive vein on the underside of his head and occasionally grazing her teeth lightly over his shaft as she withdrew, he found himself tensing into the oncoming pleasure and had to keep forcing himself to relax and breathe. He inhaled sharply when she added a caressing hand to the base that she couldn't fit down her throat and another to stroke at his testicles, but after a moment of struggle, managed to make himself loosen up again against that glowing tide of heat that seemed to be roasting him from the inside out.

And then what she must have been hoping for him to experience finally happened. The overwhelming wash of pleasure surged over his every thought until he was nothing but nirvana— a wave of euphoria grabbing hold of his entire body and holding him there, right on the edge of orgasm, for what was likely only a minute but seemed to last forever.

"Rose," he exhaled. "What are you doing to me?"

 _This is all you, love. Stay relaxed. The longer you hold on, the more intense it'll be._

But he couldn't hold on much longer—the rush of euphoria was building like the crescendo of a symphony, and when it finally crested to the point where it felt like he would break apart, he surrendered to it. The wave crashed over him hard, forcing his back to arch up nearly out of the water and his hand to fly to his mouth to cover the shout that tore up from his throat. Even the first three aftershocks managed to force a grunt from him, compelling him to jerk his hips up farther into her mouth and reducing him to a trembling mess as she milked him dry.

She allowed his hips to settle back into the water as he relaxed again, a self-satisfied smirk gracing those lips of hers as she gently cleaned him.

"Are you all right?" he inquired, remorse coloring his thoughts for how forcefully he'd arched up as he'd come.

Her smirk widened into a genuine smile as she replied, "Come now, quit bragging." Maneuvering to his side, she stretched herself along the length of his body in the crook of his arm and looked up at him with naked adoration. Would that look ever cease to amaze him? "I'm fine. You're more than fine. Stop your fussing."

"Thank you," he murmured, even though it still felt somewhat inappropriate to do so for such a favor. Pulling her more tightly to his side, he let his lips brush along her hairline as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo over the peppermint of the bathwater. His gratitude was for so much more than her favor, even for more than her solicitude today, and she knew it.

She responded with a kind smile, bringing his fingertips to her lips. But as lovely as the prospect of lying here in the bathwater forever with her sounded, his skin was beginning to wrinkle, a sensation he despised, unfortunately, . . . and he was beginning to grow ravenous.

"I'm afraid I went a bit light for breakfast," she said with a grimace as they stood, and she summoned a towel to dry him off before he pried the towel from her and returned the gesture. "Figured we might want to nibble our way around the town when we left the room. I'm interested in you sharing a bit of your world with me, choosing the foods and wines that catch your fancy."

"No, that's perfect. Perhaps we can see Lady Lunafreya's speech, collect some local fare, and have a picnic as we tour the city by gondola?"

"Sounds like a plan. The rain should've passed by the time we're ready to leave," she said, summoning a purple t-shirt and her sleeping shorts. "You do what you like, but I'm being a lazy sod for as long as I can this morning."

Though he styled his hair in its usual manner, Ignis decided to follow her lead and put on his blue-and-white-striped pajama bottoms and grey t-shirt before dragging the armchair and ottoman next to the window to watch the rain and read a magazine as the morning passed him by in leisure.

Laura summoned his favorite fall breakfast—and of course she would remember him telling her all those weeks ago—a warm, flaky croissant and a hot cup of coffee on a crisp, fall morning was one of the little things in life he loved. It was of no importance that it wasn't yet autumn here in the real world; it had been last night for them.

"Thank you," he said, smiling affectionately up at her.

"You're welcome," she said, leaning in to press her lips to his cheek, but he turned his head to capture them with his own instead. He felt her begin to pull away, ready to leave him alone with his breakfast as he normally preferred, but he found he didn't want her to leave his side this morning. Tugging her down by the shoulders, he assisted her in settling herself into his side once again. Together, they nibbled on their breakfast, she sipping on her tea while he on his coffee, listening to the patter of raindrops on the sidewalk and bay outside as they both read about the latest advances in making fuel-less technology in vehicles available for everyone.

He felt her every breath, draped across him as she was, every shift of her hair, every flickering thought that passed through her mind. The peace, the domesticity of it all—he could get used to this.

On closing his eyes and leaning into the top of her head, however, thoughts of tomorrow began to leak in, tingeing their connection with red strands of worry. He'd already spent their first night in Altissia and much of the following day preparing for the rite, ensuring that everyone's weapons were properly sharpened and in top working condition, stores of curatives and poisons were well-stocked, and Noct had created enough spells for them to use should they need them.

An appointment time for early tomorrow morning was set with the First Secretary to go over the evacuation details once again, because Ignis didn't feel settled after the haphazard plan she'd given him at their first meeting at the estate. Though the woman was clearly well-versed in matters of diplomacy, it seemed that she lacked someone in her cabinet for stratagem. With only one waterway out of the city, it would make far more sense to stagger evacuation times throughout the morning, filling boats so that as many people were out of the city as possible before the rite began. The First Secretary, however, had only allotted a few boats to leave before the rite, scheduling the vast majority for after Leviathan was planned to appear.

"I think you're failing to take into account that it's still a free country, and they can't force people onto the boats, love. Humans, by nature, can be . . . _curious_ creatures, not necessarily with a firm grasp on their own capabilities in an emergency," she said, though he thought he could taste the alternate word she'd considered using, and he couldn't disagree. "They'll all want to stay and get a glimpse of the Hyrdraean, trusting in their government to save them when the time comes."

"They would be foolish to assume it possible, if they'd heard the stories of the Empire shooting unarmed civilians in the back as they ran from Insomnia's Citadel."

They'd heard many heartbreaking tales about the fall of their home from passing Glaives, what few surviving Crownsguard members were left, and from the Marshal—the most disturbing of these was the reawakening of the Old Wall by a Galahdian Glaive, of all people, using the Ring of the Old Kings. No doubt the man, despite his heroism and dedication, paid for his insolence with his life. If this encounter with the Empire was to be anything like the fall of Insomnia, with innocent citizens caught in the crossfire, he shuddered to think what drastic measures the four of them would have to take while Noct was away fighting his own battle.

"We've done all we can to prepare for now. You have your meeting tomorrow; now we just have to ensure we're all well-rested today in preparation," she said, tapping at the auto magazine in his lap. "Now—cars. Tell me, is this a long-harbored secret interest of yours, or is it new?"

"Both, I suppose," he said, allowing the change of topic to take his mind off tomorrow's storm. "I've always enjoyed the sleek lines, the smell of leather, the potential for speed, but it wasn't until I began spending so much time behind the wheel of the Regalia that I began seeking out resources." Of course, he would have never had the time to pursue such an interest with his additional clerical duties back home, and no space to cruise the Regalia at her top speed.

"Hmm, would you be interested in me teaching you pursuit and evasive driving strategies? Might come in handy if we end up doing much driving in the Empire. We might want to add flight school to the list too. I can't teach you on a Magitek engine, having never been in the cockpit of one, but I can teach you basics."

Ignis closed his eyes for a moment. Her optimism for planning ahead gave him hope for tomorrow, but how many times would the future come up today? He wasn't accustomed to this sensation, this fear of what loomed ahead on their horizon. As often as they'd all been endangered since leaving the Crown City, he would've thought he'd be used to it by now, but the threat of his death or hers had never been prophesied by a Messenger before, either. He didn't care for how out of control it made him feel—they couldn't even _plan_ for it—and while last night's loss of control had resulted in discovering a new side of his self-expression, he would have to take better care tomorrow to ensure it didn't affect his judgment, lest it cause a disaster.

When he opened his eyes to her, he could see the pity tinged with her own fear—because of course she knew what he'd been thinking.

Forcing his expression to a soft smile, he said, "Yes, those both sound as though they would be prudent skills to build, given our future endeavors."

"After the rite, then," she said firmly—not a promise, but as much of one as she could make it.

* * *

"And I'm telling you that it's absolutely necessary at _all_ times for consistency and clarity, just as in your . . . JFK and Stalin example!"

His voice was perhaps rising a smidgen above what was considered polite for a debate, only a decibel or two, but she was being obstinate. They had begun this discussion on the same side of the argument, but upon finding that he was in agreement, she'd switched sides, engaging him in this dispute merely to irritate him. Indeed, her smile was growing ever wider and the sparkle in her eyes deepening even as she handed him a cracker spread with sheep's cheese and olive tapenade.

"But it saves space and keeps the reader from pausing unnecessarily," she argued, "and there are instances where it doesn't add clarity. 'Those at the ceremony were the commodore, the fleet captain, the donor of the cup, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Jones' implies that Mr. Smith is the donor of the cup, but he isn't."

"No it doesn't! And even if it did, the sentence should be rewritten for greater clarity."

He was distracted for a moment by the sight of a spinning waterwheel, kicking up a frothing whirl of white water and sending the droplets flying to catch prisms in the newly revealed afternoon sun. He could almost taste that old, almost pipe flavor of the water as the mist hit his face with the slight breeze. But he turned back to her, eager to best her in this somewhat pointless conversation.

Her smile grew sweet, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she relented. Reaching out to fix the feathering of his sideburns, she said, "All right, you're right. I never could argue against the serial comma, anyway. I happen to completely agree."

He reached for the crystal stem of the wine glass, which was situated in the middle of their massive picnic spread out over a rug at the front of the boat, and took a sip of the wine—bright and juicy, with a hint of vanilla and smoke as an intriguing, darker juxtaposition to the initial impression. The body was surprisingly opulent, considering its lightness. It seemed as though Lucian growing regions had nothing on Accordion and Ravettrician wine country.

Swallowing, he said, "I assumed as much, given your opening position. What I would like to know is how we managed to segue from Lady Lunafreya's speech to the necessity of the serial comma."

"That was all you, dear. I was more than happy discussing her commanding oratory style, but then you had to get into the horror that was speech writing for Noct."

She was right; the conversation _had_ seemed to only deteriorate from there.

"I gotta say, Laura, when you asked for a romantic tour, this wasn't what I was expecting. This what you guys consider romance?" Steve, their gondola guide, called to them from the back of the boat.

"Takes all kinds, mate!" she called back with a laugh. In a quieter voice, she added, "I do so love seeing you wound up—that passion of yours is so alluring to watch."

As much as he wanted to lean in and press his lips to hers, he instead cast his eyes at the high walls of the buildings surrounding them, taking note of all the windows he couldn't see directly into.

 _Are you certain it's safe for us to be so . . . out in the open like this?_

She had reached into her bag, pulling out a small paper-wrapped package. "Ugh, gryphon foie gras, all yours," she said with a grimace, handing it to him, but he had no interest in eating it, snacking as they'd been for hours on this boat as they toured the city. _If Ardyn were anywhere nearby, I'd feel him._ She closed her eyes. _He's in the city somewhere, I'm sure of it. It's almost as though I can smell his shadow on the air, but I think he's trying to avoid me._

Opening her eyes, she continued, _And if he's using spies, not only would I feel their overly-interested intentions as they followed us, they would only see two people who happen to enjoy the more sophisticated aspects of life taking a meal together._

"It's not as though the others wouldn't enjoy this," he pointed out.

She shrugged, saying, "Sometimes stereotypes work in our favor. You, my dear, are the very picture of casual sophistication and elegance," she said, gesturing to his blue-and-white striped button-down and suspenders, and he felt his cheeks warm a little at the compliment, "and I can at least take on the appearance of being civilized and intelligent."

He let his eyes roam over her—her black curls half pulled up and braided by him this morning, the way the creamy lace of her peasant top accentuated her alabaster complexion, how the matching corset around her middle emphasized her ravishing hips and bosom without appearing tawdry, and the sumptuous layers of wispy cream silk and lace that left a teasing quarter-inch of the skin around her waist bare before flowing and fluttering down to her ankles.

By all the stars in the sky, she was stunning.

"You do clean up rather well, I must say," he said with a smirk, and she gave him a cheeky grin before snapping a suspender to his chest. "Ow," he complained, rubbing at his pectoral even if it hadn't truly hurt him.

"Serves you right," she said with his favorite tongue-touched smile.

As they passed underneath a low footbridge and into a towering arched hall between two buildings, Ignis appreciated that Steve slowed the boat so he could fully take in the impressive architecture—the high, carved columns extending from the waterline to the ceiling far above, adorned with what looked like dragon scales and depictions of Leviathan's head spitting jets of water forty feet below into the canal next to their boat; the amber glow of the globed lamps providing a romantic, dramatic atmosphere to the darkened archway; the enormous depictions of the goddess in her serpentine form carved into the stone, standing guard over a grand shopping arcade.

"Steve," Laura gasped, her eyes wide as she gazed up at the ornate buttresses, "you've outdone yourself."

"Keep this place saved for the special fares. You can't even get here on foot," he said smugly. "Not a lotta people think to feed the driver on days like this."

Ignis nodded at the statue of the winged woman standing proudly on a plinth in the center of the canal. Recalling a similar statue below the Port West Station, dedicated to the Province by the Emperor, Ignis asked, "Eos, or Leviathan?"

"Still Leviathan, I think. The wings are shorter like her serpentine form, the robes different, the expression on her face more protective. I'd expect every depiction in this city to be of the Hydraean."

"And over there," Steve said, pointing to a four-masted full rigged ship moored gracefully in a side tunnel, lit dramatically from the stained-glass skylights above, "piece of our history before Magitek came to Accordo. We used to set sail with nothing but a good stretch of canvas and the wind at our backs!"

"Just imagine what it was like, Ignis: no engines, no computers . . . just the wind and the sea . . .," Laura began, her voice growing low with awe and memory as her eyes roamed over the shining polished wood and the ship's voluptuous curves.

"And nothing but the stars to guide you," Ignis murmured, momentarily swept away by the romance of such a notion.

She looked up at him, stunned. "Yes, exactly."

"Did you do much of that?"

Her voice grew far away as she looked back to the ship. "When I worked for Torchwood, keeping aliens and such a secret from Earth, these pirates once got caught in a time storm—sent them spinning from the sixteenth century to the twenty-first, right on the channel. I spent a month on board with them, integrating them into modern society."

"With your diplomacy skills? I shudder to think," he teased. "What happened to them?"

"Oy! I've got diplomacy skills! You just haven't seen them." _I was a Terran ambassador for about eighty years with James, once I learned to take human form, and Palomia . . .._ She shook her head. "Anyway, they ended up being the most famed attraction on the Thames—pirate themed dinner cruises three nights a week plus weekends. They were booked solid six months in advance."

"Everything is almost normal for a moment, and then your life becomes absurd," he said before settling back into the pile of cushions at his back, reaching for a grape, and bringing it to his lips. The grape skin popped satisfactorily between his teeth as the sweet juice filled his mouth. Yes, this sort of exploration, with every experience being an entirely new concept, an entirely thrilling adventure, especially with Rose at his side—he could most certainly get used to this. As the colors from the stained-glass skylights threw patterns of colored light over his glasses like a kaleidoscope, he sighed happily.

"What do you do in quiet moments?" he asked her as they cleared the wall of slapping, splashing water created by the spitting Leviathan jets. It was easy to see her interests as they traveled—varied as they were, they usually involved finding trouble, an adventure, a small miracle. But in their quiet moments together, he noted that she had no hobbies to speak of beyond what she did with him.

"That's the beauty of being with someone like me," she said, responding to his thoughts. "I enjoy the things you do. I tend to choose a hobby, learn all I can about it, master it, then move on. It's how I end up with the most widespread hobbies: cooking, sewing, jewelry making, woodworking, baking, dancing, martial arts . . . I could go on forever. I know a fair bit about cars because I found them interesting, so I can teach you what I know. Same thing with flying, cooking, nature . . . anything that catches your interest.

"I've been trying to create my own sonic screwdriver without the help of the Doctor's memories for about a century so far, and no luck yet. But my favorite activity? The Doctor would never believe it if he heard this—is reading. Sometimes I'll read a book the slow way just to make it last longer."

"Hey, Laura," Steve interrupted. "We're comin' up on the whisper tunnel soon. You sure you still wanna be dropped off there? Forgot it was the day after Carnival."

"Yes, please," she called back.

"All right, but make sure you guys steer clear of the Ponte dei Pugni today. Hate to see a pretty couple like you get roughed up."

"Don't worry about us; we'll be fine," Laura replied, but there was a light in her eyes that told Ignis that the Ponte dei Pugni, whatever that was, was the very destination she had in mind.

"I suppose even asking for more information would be a fruitless endeavor," he drawled, tilting his head at her in mock exasperation as she gathered what was left of their picnic into her bag before dismissing it to her Pocket.

"Yep!" she sang cheerfully, standing as Steve pulled up to a dock in front of another of Altissia's hidden shopping arcades. "One of those best-kept secrets of the city—one Camelia would _love_ for a visiting dignitary, such as yourself, to get wind of. Allons-y!"

After throwing Steve enthusiastic thanks and receiving a promise that he would be on one of the earliest evacuation boats the next morning, Laura took Ignis's hand, pulling him along the arcade for a distance before turning left into a tunnel. The place grew immediately eerie—cold and damp, darkening quickly in the light of the setting sun despite being lit with amber bulbs, arched ceilings of brick made sooty from centuries of coal burning before the advent of electricity . . . but most concerningly, the long, grand thoroughfare was completely deserted.

"Rose?" he queried quietly as his voice and their footsteps echoed ominously through the passage. As they came to an intersection, rather than answering, she pushed him into the corner of an archway— flattening him against the wall, pulling him down to her face by his sideburns, and pressing through his lips with her tongue, tasting him. Unable to help himself, he responded, brushing his thumbs against the bare skin of her hips and twining his tongue with hers.

 _No danger this time; I promise,_ she said as she abruptly pulled away and spun him around so that his nose was nearly touching the stone where two arches met. _Wait there._

She left his side then, and he turned to watch her cross the intersection so that she was standing in the corner diagonal from him. "What on Eos are we doing now, madwoman?" he asked amusedly, with perhaps the slightest trace of mock-exasperation.

"Turn around, face the wall, and find out, loon," she said with a smile before turning to face her own corner.

He faced the intersection of the stone and started when he heard her voice come from just in front of him.

"Ignis."

Glancing up the corner of the wall to the domed ceiling above, he said, "Auditory reflection—fascinating. How did you manage to find out about this?"

"Told the maids at the estate I was new to the city. Theresa gave me this little tidbit. Legend has it that this is where forbidden lovers met to exchange their vows of love."

"I love you," he whispered immediately, giddily, smiling into the corner like a fool, "utterly and completely."

"And I love you," she replied, her own voice just as awed and breathless. "I hope you know you make me happier than I've felt in thousands of years."

He closed his eyes, allowing his head to fall forward and rest against the cool stone. "Rose," he whispered, too touched to say anything else.

"Ignis?" she asked, and that tone in her voice—he knew exactly what she was about to say.

"Run?"

"Yes!"

He immediately spun and bounded toward her, grabbing her hand as she tugged him off to the right. He'd thought that they'd been in a basement of sorts, and perhaps they had been with the vastly dramatic differences in the city's levels, but as they cleared the tunnel, he was surprised to find them on a bridge overlooking the lower part of the city: bright roof tiles aglow, the western sides of every building radiating the orange light of the setting sun, a thousand bell towers chiming the arrival of seven o'clock in the evening as the city lights came on and turned the skyline into hills of twinkling stars. How many times in a single day would his breath wind up stolen away from him?

"Hey! I'd turn back if I were you!" someone yelled after them as they sprinted past. The frequency of such messages increased as they neared the end of the bridge, but they grew harder to hear as the cacophony of what sounded like a thousand men yelling and screaming assaulted his senses.

 _What is this?_ he asked, dodging another protesting man and continuing to surge forward despite his better judgment. Stretching his neck to see ahead, he could make out a massive fountain spraying a dome of water high in the air, surrounded by hundreds of men in the middle of a brawl.

 _The Ponte dei Pugni—the Bridge of Fists . . . interesting they're stealing Italian language in a city that looks so much like Venice. But it's tradition for the men who didn't get laid after the Carnival to work out their aggression here. The government isn't particularly happy about the practice, so you can imagine it doesn't make it in the tourism guides._

 _But . . . Rose. I_ _ **did**_ _. . . work off my aggression_ _yesterday evening, and twice this morning, if you'll recall. Unless you're implying the experience was that forgettable._

 _Hardly,_ she snorted, a flash of heat jolting through her like lightning, and he couldn't help but smirk a little with pride at her reaction to the memories. _I want you to dance with me. I'll take the left, you take the right, we meet in the middle on the other side?_

 _You are completely mad, woman,_ he said with a grin before letting go of her hand and leaping into the fray of flying fists, screaming lungs, and colliding bodies.

Shutting his mind off completely, he ducked, twisted, and danced his way through the crowd, only throwing punches to those who reached for him first. The density of human flesh in the raised square, more like a balcony than anything, meant that he was often jostled from all sides as he hurtled around the fountain, but his flying feet as he kicked and somersaulted his way through the wall of people ensured his safe passage. He'd thought he'd had the potential for being daring and savage when he'd left Insomnia, but he couldn't imagine his younger self doing anything like _this_. How completely his life had transformed, how thoroughly he himself had transformed in these months!

It seemed Laura's presence on the other side had kicked up a stir, as she was immediately set upon by at least a dozen men attempting to grab her, though Ignis believed it more likely it was in an effort to drag her foolish body out of harm's way. While she successfully evaded nine sets of arms reaching out for her, the tenth man managed to catch her around the shoulder and swing her to him.

"Hey!" Ignis heard the man scream at her through their connection as Ignis ducked a fist and sent his own right back into the man's abdomen. "You shouldn't be here!" Ignis could feel the man's fingers digging into her shoulder as he tried to drag her back in the direction they'd come from, but she dug her heels in and grinned maniacally.

"So sorry bout this, mate," she yelled over the din, twisting out of his grip and ducking his arms. He tried to reach for her again, but she twirled to the back of him, pushing him hard enough that his knees caught the edge of the fountain before toppling in. "Gotta see a man about a dog!" She laughed like a vixen before dancing off toward Ignis, the ruffled layers of her skirt kicking up with the movement.

"You. Are. A. Menace," Ignis said when they met on the narrow bridge on the other side, grabbing both her hands and bending over, breathless with exertion and laughter. He could feel her puffs of breathy laughter on the back of his head as she bent over him, euphoria washing through their connection and threatening to topple him over.

Taking a final deep breath, he straightened slowly and raised his eyes to the sky, wishing he could see the stars though the city lights in this moment.

"It's time to be heading back, isn't it?" she asked sadly.

He pulled his posture straight, putting on the suit of the Advisor once more. Though he half wanted to inform her that today had been a most enchanting dream, just as he had all those years ago, he simply said, "Yes, I believe it is."

After all, dinner with only the two of them would feel too much like a final meal.

As they approached the door to the retinue's suite, Ignis turned to her, pressing his lips to hers in one last chaste caress.

 _Thank you for today. I hope, when this is all over, that we'll have many more like it. But for now, are you ready to head back into the fray with me?_

 _You do realize it's just a bunch of boys behind that door, right?_ she asked in amusement, but her eyes were overly large in her face as she looked up at him.

 _As was the Bridge of Fists,_ he answered with a quirk of a smile before opening the door.

"Hey! Look who's back!" Prompto squawked, jumping out of his chair in the parlor and bounding over to them. "You guys have fun?"

"Yes, Gladio will be pleased to hear that we did nothing of import all day," Ignis replied with a nod.

"Good to hear it, Igs," Gladio said, approaching them from the arch that led to the bedroom.

Ignis tilted his head at Gladio's tight expression, his eyes noting the furrowed brow, the lips pulled down into a scowl. He tilted his head further and raised his eyebrows in a silent question, as this could only be about Noct.

 _He's upset about something,_ Laura confirmed as Gladio's eyes flicked over at Noct's slumped and brooding form in the armchair opposite from the one Prompto had just vacated.

"He's been like that all day," Prompto whispered when he saw where their gaze had landed. "Can't shake him out of it."

"Hate to throw ya back into it, Ig, but we tried everything," Gladio said, leaning toward the two of them so he could speak more quietly. "Wasn't even really into the totomostro today. You think you could do something?"

 _Seems as though duty calls,_ he said with a wry smile to Laura.

 _He'll open up better if you're alone. I'll get the others out of your way._

 _Indeed, thank you._

"Yeah well, we might not've done anything important, but he forgot to feed me dinner," Laura said in a louder voice so as to be heard by all occupants of the room. "You guys hungry? We can go find something and bring it back."

 _You're going to give me a bad reputation, love._

"Yeah, sure. We could do that," Gladio said with a glance in Noct's direction before heading to the door.

 _I think your reputation will manage all right just this once._

"All right! Let's get some chow! I'm starving!" Prompto cheered, flinging the door open and heading out into the hall.

When the door had closed, Ignis walked quietly across the room and settled into the chair next to Noct, folding his hands neatly in his lap and staring at the floor in front of him.

"Highness," he greeted, but he didn't say another word. No amount of cajoling would get Noct to begin talking before he was ready, so he sat back for the long wait, grateful that for once, he could hold his vigil with company in his head. He watched as Laura led Gladio and Prompto along the very streets they had just walked and smiled to himself, still reveling in the seemingly magical day they had spent together. For all that they had experienced in the real world and their imaginary one, it still amazed him that she was able to make everything feel like an exhilarating fantasy.

 _I may be here for some time,_ he warned. _I had to sit with him for three hours once when Gladio got injured on his behalf._

 _Take all the time you need. I'll keep them out here for as long as it takes, but I don't think it'll be as long as you think. He's been better about opening up to you lately._

It took only twenty minutes—a record when it came to the Prince—and Ignis was slightly embarrassed by the fact that he actually flinched a little when the first syllables issued from Noct's mouth. He felt Laura pull back from his mind to give them privacy, and he sent her a wave of gratitude before her thread dulled in dormancy.

"She kissed me. I mean, not really, she was wearing a mask. But she _kissed_ me," Noct rambled, his words tumbling over each other as they raced from his mouth. Even his hands were twitching in his lap in tiny gesticulations as he continued, "It's like, I promised I'd be the King of Light, or whatever, but I didn't really know what that meant, just went along with it because that's what she wanted. I didn't even realize it at the time, but it's like she shaped my life from then on."

Ignis could see where this was going, and frankly, it was about time. He'd wondered when the Prince would finally come to terms with the full scope of the consequences of his marriage as they were packing up his apartment to leave for Altissia. The most shocking revelation had come when Noct had confessed he hadn't even given a thought regarding cohabitating with her.

"Then I saw the dress the other day and the speech today. I always knew she was the better of the two of us, but this proved it. She's done so much in my name, given up her entire life for me. Six only know what she's been through, but she's still willing to marry _me_ —after all that. And then she kissed me," he trailed off, shaking his head and brushing his lips with his first two fingers. "What does that even mean? It's so much easier if I don't think about it and let shit happen, but this just keeps coming at me. I can't shake it."

Ignis sat in silence for a moment, gathering the concepts of what was likely the longest unforced speech Noct had ever made, and organized his own thoughts for the best approach to advise the Prince. As he opened his mouth with a speech prepared about duty and devotion, Noct surprised him by cutting him off.

"What does it feel like to love someone, Iggy?"

Ignis's gaze shot to Noct to see that his were eyes wide and desperate. "I—"

"Took a while, but I'm not completely blind, you know. You love Laura. How'd you know?" He leaned forward, staring at the floor, his expression still manic. "I know you don't like talking about this stuff, and neither do I, but I need to know."

Ignis had given Noct every iota of his own identity since he was a child; there was nothing too personal to share if Noct asked it of him. Still, he'd hoped he could guard the more intimate details regarding Laura—keep them secret in his heart. It didn't appear that would be the case, however, if his Prince was asking this of him now. His liege needed his advisor.

Collecting all his feelings and memories from their surreal courtship, Ignis looked to the floor and began to speak in a soft voice.

"It hurts," he said, and Noct looked at him in surprise. "She is beautiful, inside and out, and you know that she's a better person than you'll ever be. But she's willing to do anything for you, to die for you, just to see you safe. You vow to become the man she thinks she sees in you, and you rip away a piece of yourself to give to her because it's all you can do to return the favor.

"But just when you believe you're about to die from the agony of it all, she turns around and gives a piece of her soul right back. It's so exquisitely beautiful that it heals you, and you know that she is treasuring your soul just as much as you are hers. You become one person inhabiting two bodies, and the world is not complete without her by your side."

Wrung out, he chanced a glance at Noct, who was still staring at him with wide, pained eyes. "I think I might love her, Ignis," he gasped.

Ignis smiled in sympathy, remembering what it felt like when he himself had come to that realization after coming to in a tent at the Prairie Outpost.

"That may very well be, though I recommend you find out for certain. While the risks to your heart could not be higher, I can assure you from personal experience that the rewards are beyond anything this life has to offer."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

No Oxford commas were harmed in the writing of this chapter.

Some of the scenes for Altissia were described from concept art, linked on AO3, but you can look it up on the wiki if you like.

The Bridge of Fists, while a real place that did hold fist fights in Venice, had nothing to do with Carnival or the releasing of sexual dissatisfaction . . . probably.


	49. Chapter 49

"Remember, stay flexible. Stay alert," Ignis advised, hoping that, should this be the very last time he saw his brother, Noct would remember him for caring about his wellbeing rather than being a nag.

"I know," Noct sighed. "And _you_ all remember: I can take care of myself. The people can't. No matter what happens, it's your duty to look after the citizens first. Got it?"

While Gladio, Prompto, and Laura nodded, Ignis reluctantly said, "Yes, Highness."

A direct order from his liege—despite how much his every instinct was screaming inside him that Noct and Lady Lunafreya would be the true focus of the Chancellor's plans and how much he wished at least one of their group could be there to help protect them, Ignis knew that Noct's logic was sound. Even King Regis had put the lives of citizens before his own in the end, for a king was not a king without the subjects he protected.

"Intelligence reports that the Empire has taken custody of Lady Lunafreya," Ignis said. "They've escorted her to the altar to perform the rite and have the area surrounded with drop ships."

"So you're gonna have to sneak and fight your way in," Gladio said. "They don't want the King showin' up to this party."

Noct nodded as Prompto added, "Just be careful."

"And call us if you need help," Laura said, placing a hand on Noct's shoulder. "If the infrastructure is destroyed or there are a lot of troops between us, it might take us a while to reach you from the other side of the city, so err on the side of calling us early, yeah?"

"Sure." Noct leaned in close to Laura, and it was only through their connection that Ignis heard him say in a low voice, "Watch over them. Bring 'em back in one piece."

"No matter what," she agreed.

That was the very scenario Ignis was afraid of.

Their retinue had been assigned the Deutatuo Residential District to evacuate, a strategic request on Ignis's part, as their proximity to the boat docks would ensure additional protection of the people should the Empire decide to play dirty and attack fleeing citizens outright. As they jogged to their district and split up to cover more ground, prepared to knock on doors and assist the ill and infirm to the evacuation point, Laura spoke.

 _Please don't use the elemental bond today until you must. You were so tired that entire next day, and that headache could be fatal to you in a battle._

 _I understand._

As Laura had predicted, few of the people to which he spoke, despite the use of every form of polite manipulation, diplomacy, and logical argument he could conjure, were willing to leave their homes and spend the day stranded out on the ocean or elsewhere in Ravettrice. He'd even thrown caution to the wind in some cases, citing his Lucian heritage and the stories from the fall of his own home, but his attempts at reasonable discourse were only stonewalled with religious dogma, various excuses, and irritation at the inconvenience.

 _Our time would've been better spent assisting Noct to the altar,_ he growled in frustration as another door slammed in his face.

 _That's all about to change, I imagine,_ Laura replied. _I'm finished on my street. Met up with Prompto, and we're headed to the docks. Grab Gladio and meet us there?_

It was as Ignis met with an equally frustrated and scowling Gladio that evidence the rite had begun first made itself known—in the form of an immense whooshing roar, as though an enormous tidal wave were gathering its resources to rage on the vulnerable city below.

"So it begins," he heard Prompto say to Laura as they reached the docks.

 _ **What fool mortal dares break the slumber of the Tide?!**_ a reverberating voice, deep and ancient as time, echoed through his connection with Laura, and he had to close his eyes for just a moment, shaking his head as he ran.

 _Was that Leviathan? Why are we hearing her?_

Laura and Prompto were waiting for them on the dock to the far left when they arrived, ushering citizens two at a time into a bright orange, covered tender, which was bobbing and rocking furiously in the disturbed waters of the protected bay.

 _Your gods don't tend to compensate for other telepaths in the area; they just sort of shout. Be glad it's actual words and not howling like it was with Titan. He's not terribly eloquent at the best of times._

"Commander Ricci wants us to help load the boats until he gets reports of the Empire in the city," Prompto told them, wrapping his hands around the elbows of an elderly woman to help her step up onto the thrashing vessel.

Laura leaned forward and spoke in an urgent voice, "And I'm pretty sure we're about to get an influx of Altissians here in a second."

Prompto and Gladio nodded as the four of them lined up and set to work, picking up speed in preparation for the wall of frightened people Laura could feel approaching in her mind. This sudden change of heart was too abrupt for a mere appearance of the goddess. Could it be possible that imperial troops were driving them in their direction, and the commander simply hadn't heard news yet? Despite his frustration this afternoon, he could only hope the people weren't being driven at the points of blades and rifles.

 _ **This wretched pile of bones and flesh, ignorant of that which governs All, comes to requisition the might of a goddess?**_

Though the movements of his body didn't slow, Ignis allowed himself to focus on the vitriolic words of the goddess as she spoke. How many others in this world besides the Oracles and the Kings had had the privilege of hearing the voices of their gods, scathing though their message apparently was? He'd heard Titan speaking aloud at the Disc of Cauthess, but as mortals were only capable of understanding the Divine Language through the mouths of the Messengers and Chosen Ones, he hadn't understood the words not meant for ephemeral ears. This likely made Ignis the first human not among the Chosen to hear the speech of one of the Six directly. And why was that? Did Laura hear the Divine Language as Lucian in her head?

 _Sort of. I have the TARDIS's language database in my head—five billion languages, and my brain can't help but translate as it washes over our connection._

As the sea of people began rushing into the square, some bleeding, some carrying screaming children, some possibly mortally wounded, and all panicking, Ignis realized it was only a matter of moments before MTs and soldiers rushed into the square behind the civilians, and if they came in from both sides, every Altissian citizen, along with the four of them, would be trapped.

"Slap a potion on anyone that looks like they're not gonna make it!" Gladio bellowed out over the bedlam, but Ignis had already begun administering a potion to a man whose femoral artery appeared to have been ripped open by a passing bullet.

"We need to get to the street. They'll be here in a minute!" Laura yelled. "Prompto, grab your gun and bring in the cat; you're with me!"

 _You take Gladio and cover the east side of the square,_ she said.

"Got it!" Prompto replied before taking a child by both hands and swinging her off the dock into a father's awaiting arms.

 _ **What does a lowly, ephemeral speck know of All Creation?**_

Fighting his way up the current of frenzied, shoving people next to Gladio reminded Ignis strongly of the Bridge of Fists from yesterday, but instead of throwing punches, he was frantically searching over the crowd for any of those grievously injured and throwing a potion in their direction before pushing forward.

 _Tell Prompto to call Noct,_ he instructed her. _Tell him we're in the middle of evacuations and that we'll join him when we're done. He needs to get to the altar now._

 _All right._

By the time he and Gladio reached the street, armored assassins and battery soldiers were already pouring into the square, firing indiscriminately at Accordion soldiers and citizens alike. Though Ignis caught sight of several bodies dropping to the pavement under the assault, their group could no longer concentrate on administering aid. It had been made clear by the First Secretary that Accordion soldiers, trained in an occupied territory as they had been all their lives, had little skill in combat, so the abilities of their party were best served in pushing back the hordes of imperial soldiers while the Accordions took care of their own.

Gladio had already summoned his thunderbolt and was swinging wildly through any outstretched arm he could reach, removing the limbs that held rifles before bringing his steel back up into an arc and changing angles to remove heads. They both had to pause in their work, however, when they heard the whine of an engine and something approaching fast. Ignis bent low next to Gladio as what appeared to be an enormous lance passed over the street, knocking off the heads of several MTs before landing hard in the middle of the square behind them.

"What the fuck was that?!" Gladio roared.

The trajectory of the object had seemed too purposeful, too controlled as it had landed. "Must be some sort of vessel," Ignis remarked, though he didn't have the leisure to identify it as he ducked to the side and twisted, thrusting a plunderer through the throat of a rifleman in the sliver of gap between his armor and helm.

They just kept coming! As much as he danced and flitted his way through the narrow street with Gladio at his side, pushing back the wall of armor in front of them, Ignis couldn't seem to manage to take more than three or four at a time, a number instantly replaced by another three or four. Fortunately, they had gained enough ground that the soldiers no longer had a clear shot of the evacuating refugees, and upon checking in with Laura, he was relieved to hear that theirs was the same status on the other side. They had bought the citizens time, at least.

 _ **Blasphemous ingrates, all men, quick to forget the ages their goddess stood watch!**_

 _My word, she certainly doesn't seem to think much of those she is believed to protect, does she?_ Ignis asked.

The onslaught had begun to diminish somewhat, allowing his movements to slow as Laura's disdain washed over him. _I wish I could be there right now to give her a tongue-lashing of my own. I hope Lunafreya gives her hell for that._

Another six MTs crashed to Ignis's feet with a flash and a spark before Gladio lowered his sword and looked over at him. "Looks like we're clear. You all right?"

"Yes, you?" When Gladio nodded, he said, "Laura and Prompto are just finishing on their side, and she says the area is free of Imperials for the moment. Let us meet them at the docks to check on the status of the evacuation."

 _ **Yet this profane speck speaks her "King" heresies before a goddess! Insufferable sacrilege!**_

Raised voices. Crying children. Domestic disputes. These sounds and more assaulted Ignis's ears as he and Gladio slowly progressed their way through the crowd of impatient, anxious Accordions, offering apologies and reassurances that they were not, in fact, cutting the line. As Ignis took his place next to Laura in front of the command center, Commander Ricci stood to attention and saluted the four of them.

 _ **If not, then the Feeding shall begin, and it shall not end until every last speck is devoured!**_

 _Surely, she isn't referring to us mortals?_ Ignis asked, already suspecting the answer.

 _Difficult to tell without context, but my guess is 'yes.'_

It seemed as though even their allies were potential foes in this war.

Recalling his Crownsguard training, which seemed nearly a lifetime ago, Ignis snapped to attention and returned Commander Ricci's gesture, noting out of the corner of his eye that Laura and Gladio had also done so, with Prompto doing his best to mimic their action. Laura was the first to break the salute as she stepped forward.

"Report," she demanded in a clipped, cold tone, and Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto exchanged a glance. They'd all known that Laura had extensive military experience as a commanding officer in formal battle operations, but watching her adopt the commander's persona was somewhat jarring after months of seeing her cheerful, maniacal grin and happy-go-lucky attitude.

The reality that this was, in fact, their first true military operation—with assets spread throughout the city, civilians to protect, and several strategic moves being made at once—hit Ignis in that moment, making him feel young, green, inexperienced. He'd believed himself beyond such thoughts after killing his first human soldier. However, they'd grown accustomed to their little sting operations, with their atmosphere of five friends off on an epic quest together. Seeing Laura simply step in as though she were Commander Ricci's superior officer was a sharp, shocking reminder—he and Gladio had been trained to take charge, to command. Young and inexperienced though they were, they were still higher ranked, better trained, and more experienced than Commander Ricci.

"Ma'am! We have plenty of vessels for those you see here. They're being loaded as fast as we can move them. But reports are coming in from other districts of pockets of civilians being headed off by imperial forces. We don't have the firepower to retrieve them."

 _ **So let the covenant be forged.**_

Ignis summoned his map of the city and thrust it at the commander. "Mark the location of imperial forces, and we'll handle them."

 _ **Heaven and Earth, High and Deep, Birth and Return . . ..**_

As Commander Ricci bent over the table and began frantically scribbling over the paper, Ignis turned to the other three. "So the trial begins."

 _I dearly wish I could have been there to see what Lunafreya said to that snake to get her to agree,_ Laura said.

 _No doubt she has steel in her veins, much like someone else I know. Did Leviathan just mention the planet Earth?_

 _I'm beginning to believe your gods aren't originally from this planet, but from this universe's Earth, given the blatant language and culture theft. All of the Seven are either gods or mythical creatures in Terran lore. Where else could the source of it all come from?_

"Enough of that," Gladio said, glancing between the two of them. "There's no way Noct can get to the altar with the warzone goin' on right now. Suggestions?"

"Whatever it is, it can't involve all of us. Noct said we have to make the people a priority," Prompto said.

Leaping onto a crate, Ignis craned his neck over the crowd to spot the craft he and Gladio had seen land in the middle of the square earlier. If Prompto could perhaps get the odd-looking mechanism running, it might just be large enough to carry two to the altar.

Taking the map from the commander and leading the group to the craft, Ignis turned to Prompto. "Do you think you can manage to get that thing working?" he asked, pointing to the device.

"On it!"

As Ignis, Laura, and Gladio cleared the lance-shaped vehicle of debris and armored body parts, Prompto mounted the side running board, fiddling with the controls. The craft's engine roared to life as he yelled over the noise, "Oh yeah, no problem. This thing works just like Ace Pilot!"

"Then do what you gotta do to get Noct to the altar," Gladio hollered back as the craft raised to hover in the air above their heads before speeding off.

Pressing a finger to his earpiece, Ignis spoke, "Noct, Prompto is headed your way."

"But what about you guys?" Noct asked breathlessly.

"Still assisting with the evacuation, I'm afraid. Be careful."

"You too," Noct replied softly before disconnecting.

Ignis hung up his earpiece before turning to Gladio and Laura. "It appears as though the largest group of civilians is trapped on a bridge in Pacente Park District. Let us make haste."

The three of them raced through the city streets as fast as they could manage, dodging the chunks of plaster and masonry that fell from shot-up and bombed out buildings onto the cluttered streets below, diving for cover when ordnances that had fallen earlier finally exploded to send shrapnel and fire hurtling through the air, and directing any civilians they came across to the evacuation point.

"Just keep heading away from the sound of gunfire!" Gladio called back to a group of three young men, pointing in the direction of the docks.

"But what about you guys?" one of the men yelled back in their direction.

Though they didn't pause to exchange any pointless dialogue, Laura yelled back behind her, "We'll be heading _toward_ the gunfire."

Ignis continued to run alongside the others as they passed through the Arcaleo District without meeting any more troops or civilians, but the evidence of battle was obvious in the destruction of the architecture and the bodies left to lie dead in the streets. Had the Empire committed its full force to this venture that they had so many soldiers to spare to attack the innocent? How had he managed to miss evidence of such destruction in the seemingly short amount of time they'd fought to defend the square? He and Laura had only traversed these very streets yesterday, full of life and color and love. And yet within the span of a couple of hours, the entire city seemed to have been under siege, judging by the columns of black smoke rising in the air from every block Ignis could see, transforming the formerly romantic scene into a war zone.

They were fighting to get the Crystal back, to save humanity. Why on Eos would any human take up arms against them, against their fellow, unarmed man?

 _Because propaganda is cunning, and Lucis wasn't as innocent-looking from other perspectives as it was from yours,_ Laura said darkly.

Though he hadn't believed them to be at the time, Ignis realized now that they'd been sheltered, ensconced in the Citadel and the wealthy districts as they'd been. The senior administration had obviously kept many pieces of intelligence from reaching the ears of the junior administration, much to Ignis's frustration. It had only been upon leaving the walls of Insomnia and speaking to other citizens of Lucis that Ignis had begun to understand that outlanders viewed their Crown City in a most unfavorable light, that Insomnian citizens and even members of the Crownsguard had been unaccepting of those Glaives from outside the city—almost to the point of being xenophobic. He supposed the banning of additional refugees entering the city thirty years ago, followed by the relinquishment of the outlands to the Empire proposed in the fake treaty, would hardly endear the Royal Family to the people, especially to those outlander Glaives serving the Crown. It seemed only Gladio had been unsurprised at hearing the broad concepts of these tales, but even he had been shocked to learn of the depth of the mistreatment and resulting resentment.

Could this entire war have been averted with more open, honest communication and acceptance? Why had the King allowed such an attitude to flourish?

The mechanical whirring of Magitek armor and the percussive rhythm of bullets was growing louder as they approached the bridge marked on their map, but Laura was able to reply before they reached it. _Regis was also kept mostly in the dark, likely by a high-ranking commander or someone similar who ended up betraying him. But as much as I cared for him, he wasn't completely above reproach in this. Remember that your own treatment as a child was also overlooked._

While her words rang true, his situation had been entirely different. He'd been one boy, a servant, hardly worth the King taking note of. And though he'd been subjected to a similar attitude the Glaives had been, if for different reasons, he certainly had never blamed His Majesty for his upbringing.

 _Ignis,_ she sighed in a frustrated tone, disagreement flooding their connection.

A buzz in his ear sounded, and Ignis signaled for the others to stop so he could take the incoming message before they approached the enemy. "Prompto," he greeted.

"Got Noct dropped off with Leviathan. What's your location?"

"We got a situation on the only bridge leading to Pacente Park. Could use a little help over here!" Gladio said into his own earpiece.

"On my way!"

Approaching the bridge, the three of them found themselves staring at the backs of three Magitek armors and an entire host of soldiers and MTs—with all their considerable firepower focused on the multi-leveled, covered bridge in front of them.

"There are at least thirty people trapped on that bridge," Laura said, looking up at him.

As Ignis squinted into the dark tunnel, he could just make out the silhouettes of adults crouching over children and people using their bodies to shield loved ones from the hopeless onslaught of bullets raining down on them. They'd have easily been slaughtered by now if it weren't for the fact that the Empire seemed intent on toying with them instead of simply storming the bridge.

What kind of people would dare pin down and attack families in such a manner? What sort of commander would order MTs to do so? Between the stories told of the fall of Insomnia and the skirmishes in the outlands he'd heard in royal briefings, Ignis had heard plenty about the Empire's ruthlessness toward civilians and Glaives alike. But he'd always been spared these more personal, devastating aspects of war—what happened to the innocent in times such as these—in those casual encounters in the street and the cold, clinical meetings.

If those people huddled on the bridge were innocents, what did that make him?

A predator. A protector.

A lance of anger, the need to defend, shot through him, setting fire to his blood and calling him to action as he brought his daggers to his hands and infused them with lightning. Glaring down at Laura, he silently dared her to say something about his gratuitous use of power, but the look she gave him in return was equally as fierce as she summoned her falchions.

"Gladio and I have the best weapons for the armor," he raised his voice above the mass of gunshots. "Laura, take out the soldiers, and draw their fire from us and the citizens."

Gladio nodded before summoning his sword and leaping at the back of the nearest armor. Ignis managed to catch a glimpse of Laura spreading a palm out to send blue arcs of lighting to the most concentrated area of soldiers before he, too, leapt high into the air to land on the body of one of the two remaining armors.

No amount of dancing could shield Ignis from the barrage of bullets and rockets that whipped across the street in front of the bridge, but they had at least managed to draw the Empire's attention away from the citizens to themselves the moment they'd begun swinging their blades. The sensation of liquid fire and blood burning across his limbs had become well-familiar to him by now, as many times as he'd been shot since leaving Insomnia, but he was grateful, at least, for the reduced frequency as he pulled out yet another potion to crack over himself when the pain became too great for him to bear lifting his weapons. He noted that even Gladio had to pause in his assault to administer his own first aid several times as Ignis flitted around the legs of his armor.

The disorientation from movement faster than ordinary man was meant to tolerate was beginning to make his head spin. Gladio had switched targets to assist him in taking down his armor, and they had just restarted their attack on Gladio's when Laura contacted him.

 _I've finished with the soldiers. If you could turn the armors away from the entrance to the bridge, I can get the people out and moving to the docks._

Catching Gladio's attention as they circled the armors, he eschewed speaking, as the exploding rockets rocking the street in thunderous explosions made communication impossible. Instead, he used hand-gestures for them to take a position closer to the water so that their enemy would turn in that direction to attack the greater threat.

"You're mine!" he growled as he brought fire to his blades, driving both of them deep into the leg joint of the armor he was working on. It collapsed onto a knee, rendered temporarily immobile as the pilot attempted to recover functionality.

"Good goin', Ig," he thought he heard Gladio call out over the crashing.

 _The evacuees made it to the docks,_ Laura said after some time had passed. _I'm coming back._

Though the buzz in his ear was hardly a welcome one when it came, busy as he was, he still pressed a finger to the button, and he noticed Gladio do the same from the corner of his eye. He could just make out the words of the tinny voice in his ear as Prompto screamed, "Iggy! Gladio! Move!"

Ignis looked up to see a flash of Prompto's bizarre imperial craft on a collision course with both the armors they were fighting, so he reached for Gladio's shoulder and shoved him behind a pile of rubble to take cover. Even from behind the wall of crumbled concrete that protected them, Ignis could feel the heat of the explosion, the wall of vibration that shook the square as the blast washed over them. Shards of concrete and armor parts rained from the sky, and Gladio and Ignis huddled together, covering their heads in case something larger than a gil happened to land on them. Another several rounds of detonations indicated that the armors' remaining missiles had exploded in the heat from the fires.

 _Prompto!_ he called out to Laura, hoping she was close enough to feel the state of Prompto's mind. _Is Prompto all right?_ He stood, reeling and coughing for a moment, before attempting to squint through the smoke and fire for a glimpse of his friend.

 _He's all right,_ came Laura's voice, and he let out a relieved breath. _We're together._ _Meet us at the bridge to the Arcaleo District._

Ignis looked down at Gladio, wondering why he hadn't stood yet, but the blood seeping from his ear as he continued to crouch behind the debris implied that his eardrum had likely burst from the percussion, and he hadn't been able to hear that the chaos had ceased. Ignis summoned a potion, gently cracking it over Gladio's head before pulling him up by the hand.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Am now. Thanks, Iggy."

After swaying for a moment and regaining his balance, Gladio's somber brown eyes locked on his as he said in a low voice, "So, this is war. I thought I knew . . .."

"I know," he replied with a nod, leading him in Laura's and Prompto's direction, "but there's no time. Laura and Prompto are meeting us at the bridge this way."

"What I wouldn't give to have you all in my head like that right now—to know you're all safe."

"Yes, and I as well," he replied, thinking longingly of Noct. "It certainly has its advantages with Laura. However, I believe the romantic nature of the contact would make things more than a little awkward for all of us, if such a thing were even possible."

 _Ignis, you and Gladio hold on to something solid! That lamppost, there. Now!_

"Gladio, quickly, hold on to that lamppost!" he ordered, not taking the time to question Laura's instruction as he grabbed for an identical lamppost on the opposite side of the street.

Their view of the ocean was blocked, surrounded by the tall buildings as they were, but as Ignis raised his eyes to the sky, his heart dropped to his feet. There no longer _was_ a sky, only a swirling vortex of ocean water rising impossibly high above their heads, blocking out the light of the sun. Tables, chairs, chunks of masonry, even entire floors of buildings floated surreally in the air as the wind picked up, beginning to pull his feet from underneath him and attempting to suck him from the somewhat sheltered street. He heaved a labored step forward, desperately wrapping his legs around the pole to keep the wind from dragging him off. Looking to the main street at the end of the block, he could see more debris whipping out violently toward the water, and he was thankful that this area between the two buildings was uncluttered before . . . whatever this was had begun. As he hugged the metal pole more tightly, he cast a glance in Gladio's direction to see that he was safely clinging to his pole on the other side of the street.

 _Gladio and I are all right. Are you both safe? What's happening?_

 _Yes, Prompto and I are safe as well. It's Leviathan,_ she spat. _Part of her_ _ **trial**_ _._

 _We can't do a thing until this suction lets up. What of the citizens?_

The roar of a screaming Magitek engine fighting the buffeting winds eclipsed that of even the swirling tides as a shadow passed overhead.

 _There's nothing we can do. Anyone not already out of the city or inside a building right now is lost. And we've another problem._

As Ignis raised his eyes to the sky, using the post to block the wind from ripping his glasses from his face, the Magitek engine he'd heard passed over the gap between buildings. He hadn't gotten a lingering look at the craft, but he didn't need one to recognize it, as he'd relived his time spent on board several times since last he'd seen it.

 _I just saw the Chancellor's ship. It was headed toward the altar,_ he said, doing his best to keep the alarm from his tone.

 _Yes, our other problem. Ardyn was onboard._

Fear gripped him as he continued to hold on for dear life, not for him or his plight, but for Noct. Was he safe? Had he managed to survive the suction? What were the Chancellor's aims for him?

 _Can you feel Noct?_ he asked, knowing that she would be unlikely to feel Lady Lunafreya's mind from this distance, as unfamiliar as she was with the woman.

 _I can't tell,_ she said after several tense moments, her tone frustrated. _There's so much power radiating from that area, it's like a seething storm. Judging by the roaring, I would guess Noct is still fighting Leviathan._

Despite his loathing of this inaction, he held on and waited, for there was absolutely nothing else he could do but exchange looks with Gladio across the deserted street at every roar, every explosion, every unidentified splash, tremor, and ear-splitting boom—until everything went suddenly still.

The tranquility lasted for only a second before the explosions and roaring picked back up again, but Ignis found he was able to release the lamppost as he gratefully shook the tingling needles from his arms and legs before looking to Gladio and urging him towards the bridge, only a half a block away.

He caught sight of Prompto first, appearing shaken but otherwise unharmed. As Prompto stepped aside to reveal Laura sitting on a concrete bench, however, he noted the four pearlescent stripes across her arm and ribs with some concern.

 _You've been hurt._

 _Couple of days, I'll be all right._ _How's your head?_

The elemental power—he'd forgotten in the commotion. _I'm running on so much adrenaline right now that I can't even feel it._

Her brow pulled down sharply, worry coloring her mind, but she thankfully didn't say anything more on the matter.

"How in Ifrit's fresh hell did you survive that shit, Prompto?" Gladio crowed, slapping Prompto on the back.

Prompto beamed at them, playing out the scenario with his hands as he said, "Set it on a collision course and jumped off before I hit. I knew there was no way I'd make it if I stayed on."

"Most excellent strategic planning, Prompto," Ignis complimented. Prompto's smile widened, but Ignis immediately turned to the side, pressing his finger against his earpiece.

"Noct, do you read me?" he queried, but there was no answer. His eyes darting up to Laura, he saw that she had a finger to her lips and her eyes closed.

"I think I can feel him. He's too far away for me to get any kind of read on him, but he's alive."

"The trial should be over by now, right?" Gladio asked.

"I can't tell a bloody thing from here!" Ignis growled in frustration. "Let's make for the altar. We can clear the districts as we make our way to ensure the remaining civilians' safety."

It was difficult to tell which explosions to pay attention to, which tremors sending vibrations up his bones were significant enough to be concerned about, as the city continued to withstand whatever battering it was receiving beyond their view, but as the roar and whine of a ship grew loud enough to push out his frantic thoughts, Ignis had just enough time to register Gladio's, "Look out!" before Laura leapt at him.

Something hit the side of his head hard, and everything went black.

* * *

 **Author's Note:  
**

So these events obviously take place in the main game in Chapter 9 as Noct is fighting his way through the palace, jumping on the weird ship with Prompto, and basically everything leading up to Episode Ignis.

I decided to dispense with the "get the harpoons off the goddess" plot mentioned in the main game. Unless I am missing something in the playthroughs, the creators themselves seemed to have abandoned it. The whole point of their running around the city, from a writer's standpoint, is to keep them from the altar until their specific times, so having them in the bay right next to it is an issue. They promised they would help Accordo with evacuations anyway, so I don't see why it was even brought up.

Since this is going to be important information for the climactic part of the battle, Ignis states in the main game in Chapter 11 that as the Hydraean raged, the last thing he remembered seeing before falling unconscious was the Chancellor's ship headed for the altar. As SE didn't even know at the time that scene was created what had happened on Ignis's side of the battle, I am going to assume here that he wasn't lying to Noct.


	50. Chapter 50

**Author's Note:  
**

Violence and character death.

* * *

Power. Lunafreya had never asked for it, but she'd had the privilege of being born with an abundance of it. It came at a cost, however, as power always did. From the very moment of her ascension after the death of her mother, her life had no longer been her own. She and her abilities belonged to the people—to ease their suffering in this blighted world and speak to the mortal on behalf of the divine, a calling she'd been only too honored to undertake.

It wasn't common knowledge that the magic of the Fleuret family was not derived of their Oracle lineage, just as it wasn't common knowledge that the position of Oracle wasn't necessarily a hereditary title at all. The only reason Oracles had predominantly been chosen from her family, with a few exceptions, was because of the magic of the gods House Fleuret been blessed with—from the founding member of their line onward.

Sylva Via Fleuret, may the gods rest her soul, had been gifted with the power of the Inferno and the healing power of the Blessed Star of Light and Life, abilities that had not only allowed her to cleanse the soil and sky of blight and heal Noctis on that fateful day the Empire invaded, but had also enabled her to step between Ravus and General Glauca's fires of war without injury. Would that she had been just as immune to his steel. Perhaps then Ravus wouldn't have been lost to a slower, more insidious destruction—his lust for power and revenge.

Ravus, too, had been gifted with the magic of the gods that was so very distinct to the Fleuret line—the Power of Earth (a curious appellation derived from the Archaean), lending to his prodigious strength, and the Power of the Storm. Perhaps his lust for power had begun not with the assassination of their mother, but when the Power of the Blessed Star had skipped over him to be inherited by Lunafreya, ensuring that she would be the ascending ruler of Tenebrae and act as the mouthpiece for the divine—not him. Their mother's death had merely spurred him in that direction, much to Lunafreya's heartbreak, driving him to turn on Lucis and betray their mother's memory.

She'd let go of King Regis's hand that day because she'd known even as a girl that not only did her people need her, Ravus needed her. But despite all her attempts to coax him back to the light, she'd had to watch as the intervening twelve years changed him—bound by the past and lost in the power granted to him by the very same commanders that had slaughtered Sylva Via Fleuret. He'd become a coward—unable to face that it hadn't been King Regis to murder her, but those who had made him their lapdog. Perhaps his explanation for events had been easier for him to face than the truth.

Lunafreya would have thought that the history of their family would have taught him: True power was not found by those who sought it. It was something that came to those who deserved it.

He'd been fortunate not to have been consumed by the very power he'd sought when he'd put on the Ring of the Lucii. Instead, the experience seemed to have finally set him on the path of acceptance and redemption. Lunafreya herself had taken the long and difficult road that had been her duty, but when her foolish mortal body had begun to break down, she'd known that his newfound humility would hold him fast to House Fleuret's sworn duty to House Lucis Caelum. She could finally trust him to do the right thing and see the Ring to Noctis when she was unable to.

Only, he'd refused.

He'd been right to do so, proving, at least to her, that he had found his peace at last. In that moment of human frailty, she'd believed her ephemeral body lacked the strength to fulfill her destiny. But his words had bolstered her will, her determination to see this through.

Of course, the time for that strength had now run out.

When her status had been elevated from Oracle to Chosen Oracle, Lunafreya had known that the position would take her life when the time came to forge the covenants so that Noctis could banish the Darkness. This most recent pact with the Hydraean had left her reeling and weak, no matter how much she fought against the vertigo that had increasingly threatened to topple her over. The battering she'd received from the goddess as a test of her faith hadn't exactly soothed the pains of her mortal shell, either.

But though she'd always known her calling would end her life, she hadn't expected it to be at the blade of the very darkness that would one day be responsible for taking Noctis's life. It was poetic, in a way—a just punishment for having kept his fate secret all these years. But foreknowledge was the price the Chosen Oracle had to pay in order to know when to begin awakening the Six, to know when to set the prophecy in motion.

Her skin and muscle seemed to wrap around the blade as it thrust into her gut, welcoming the intrusion and holding it there for several moments as though it were a long-awaited visit from an old friend. Lunafreya couldn't stifle the grunt from the force of the thrust, taken by surprise as she'd been from Ardyn's swift strike. But the pain that spread out in blossoming tendrils like the blood seeping over the white silk of her dress was certainly familiar to her, mishandled as often as she'd been as a child, and would certainly garner no tears from her.

"I will pass the Ring to the _rightful_ King," she managed as calmly as she could, holding a hand to her belly to stem the tide of blood gushing from the wound. Her end might have been inevitable here at the hands of Ardyn Lucis Caelum Izunia, but there were still duties to perform before she could rest.

His hand whipped out, grasping her chin as those heartless eyes arrested hers. Even clouding as her vision was, she could see the darkness swirling in their tawny depths, but she felt no fear. What did she have left to lose, after all? Looking deeper, she thought she could discern the smallest spark of good in him, still lying dormant beneath all that suffering had heaped upon him. After all, he, too had been given the Power of the Blessed Star and had once used it to clear the scourge even more effectively than she. Lunafreya could have just as easily been the one in his position had she been born two thousand years' previous.

So much pain, such great suffering—and not only from him, but all over Eos. She'd toiled so very long and hard to erase her own identity, to become the vessel for hope and healing as was requested of her by the gods. She would not betray that calling, not even in her last moments, not even for the man that had taken her life. Even her healing power wasn't enough to dispel the darkness roiling within him, but if she could just alleviate his suffering for a mere moment, give him the gift of remembering the man he'd once been, she would have remained true to herself in these final moments.

Lunafreya wrapped her fingers gently around his wrist, calling forth the power of the Blessed Star, and he released her chin immediately in response to the golden glow emanating from her. Ardyn's hand seemed to soften, even if the malicious light in his eyes and smile remained as she looked up at him.

"When the prophecy is fulfilled, all in thrall to darkness shall know peace," she promised, because even he, one day, would be able to find rest from this torment.

At her words, the smug satisfaction melted from his face, his expression growing wistful, thoughtful, fathomless. That softness only lasted a moment, however, before his eyes grew hard and his lips turned down into a scowl. Snatching his hand away, he brought it around to backhand her hard as she collapsed onto the stone, the pain in her abdomen seeming to make way for the pain radiating from her cheek for a few seconds before taking over again.

The familiar roar of a Magitek engine grew close behind her, along with the creaking that could only be the cargo doors opening, as Ardyn stood and sauntered in the aircraft's direction.

"How sweet . . .," he simpered with a dramatic bow, "but please, Lady Lunafreya, you first."

It wasn't until he'd gone that Lunafreya looked to Noctis, floating on the wreckage of what was once a building in the middle of the bay several yards away. He needed her help; Leviathan's great open jaws hovered over his prone form as though she were about to swallow him whole, and given the fight Lunafreya had had to put up to forge the covenant in the first place, it wasn't completely unlikely that the goddess wouldn't eat him alive. Lunafreya knew from experience that the gods' trials tested the faith of even the strongest of men, but she was no man. Her faith, her faith in Noct and his ability to prove himself a worthy king, could move mountains. He'd promised her, after all, that he would never let her down, and it was his word along with the bond that they'd forged over the last twelve years that allowed her to stand up to gods and daemons alike.

Leaning on her trident, she summoned that magic of the gods, the Power of the Star, sending it shooting into the atmosphere above. It was a call to arms, one that the twelve Old Kings could not ignore. She could feel the golden power of their souls join with Noctis as her own trident shimmered and disappeared into his armiger. Bereft of support, she collapsed once more to the ground.

She rolled over onto her back, watching as Noctis rose into the air and summoned his Royal Armiger, pouring every last iota of his strength and the power of his ancestors into a renewed attack on Leviathan. He was so full of _goodness_ , fighting as he was to save his fellow man. It was that goodness, that light she saw in his heart, that shone a beacon on the goodness in all the hearts of men. She had seen it reflected in every pair of eyes of those she'd healed since she'd ascended.

This world would _not_ , could not fall to darkness so long as there existed a single spark of her consciousness—whether she resided in the mortal realm or the beyond. It mattered not that her ephemeral shell was failing, she would continue to fight alongside him for the future of the people she loved—her brother, Tenebrae, the world. That light of goodness would endure long after she and Noctis had departed this realm as a testament to their love and devotion for each other and all of humanity.

Noctis drew her trident above his shoulder and flung it at Leviathan's throat, catching the handle as the points dug deep into the goddess's scales. Freefalling down the great serpent's neck and dragging the weapon along with him, he rent a massive tear in her flesh, spraying her watery igor in every direction as she threw her head back with a thunderous roar.

"It's done," she heard him whisper as he came to a gentle landing on his back beside her.

But as the power released him, he lost his grip on consciousness, his expression growing pale and slack. It must have drained too much from him—a feeling she was well-familiar with—and his mortal body must not have had enough energy to keep his heart beating.

Dragging her failing form to his, she was finally able to look on his face free of their masks . . . after all this time. Despite how difficult these intervening years must have been for him, he was still beautifully soft—his large almond-shaped eyes, which she knew from the masquerade still shone a brighter blue than the sky on even the most glorious of days; his angled chin and jaw; those perfect lips that had always been a bit chewed and chapped, even when he'd been younger.

All these twelve long years, she'd wanted nothing more than to see him again, but wherever she'd gone, the Empire had followed. It had been her duty to protect Noctis, just as it had been her duty to sacrifice herself to restore the Light, so she'd eschewed her foolish fantasies in favor of keeping him alive, choosing instead to send her soul along in a book.

Their laughter together as children was the last time she'd laughed—the last time she'd known what joy felt like. As her calling in this realm had been fulfilled before she could truly meet up with him again, it seemed as though those few moments would be the only ones she could look back on when she brought them with her to the beyond. Perhaps, before her soul was dragged into the Crystal, she could visit him one last time before they were reunited.

There was one final duty to perform for him—her honor. She may have never asked for this power, but Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was certainly going to use it to save those she loved, to save him. As much as she wanted to press her lips to his, it would have been wrong to do so while he was unconscious, so she settled for pressing their foreheads together as she began to chant.

"Blessed Stars of Light and Life . . .."

* * *

 **Author's Note:  
**

I know several will be unhappy at this, but I truly believe the ending Noct and Luna get is the happiest possible one for them, despite the pain they suffer. I'm not completely finished with them just yet.

Some of the information in this chapter is canon, according to the incredible researchers of the reddit moderators, such as the ability to heal the scourge not being a required ability of the Oracle.

The whole Power of the Inferno, Power of the Storm, Power of the Blessed Star was me, attempting to explain the powers of House Fleuret as shown in the game and movie and weaving it into my own lore.

I spent a lot of time deciding whether or not Lunafreya knew about everything, and judging by what she said to Ardyn after she was stabbed, it was enough to tip the scales for me. I decided she most certainly did, so there you go.


	51. Chapter 51

A spark in his brain, soft lips against his—he knew those lips. Had he fallen asleep on her? How terribly rude of him, but he wasn't well; it felt as though something heavy was lying across his chest, paralyzing his lungs and burning them with an aching fire.

 _Breathe, love. I need you to breathe!_

Air across his tongue, an increasing pressure, and his eyes shot open wide in awareness. Though he tried to suck in a deep breath, whatever phantom weight that was pinning him down was also preventing him from taking in air, so he rolled to the side in an effort to push it off him as Laura slapped him hard on the back. Finally, instinct seemed to kick in, and his gut heaved up as though he were about to vomit his very viscera. But it was his lungs that benefitted from the action as water spewed up from his throat, setting his trachea on fire and filling his nose and mouth with a fetid, metallic aroma. The very moment he'd purged all he could, he sucked in a deep, desperate breath, his diaphragm clenching with the effort as he coughed on the black-and-white tile floor of what was apparently an abandoned water-level café.

"Oh, thank the stars," he heard Laura exclaim on an exhale behind him.

Shaking, a little dizzy, but breathing, at least, he pushed himself up to a sitting position and assessed his condition. When had he managed to get wet? He thought he could recall rolling along the floor of the bridge for a moment after Laura had leapt at him, but nothing after that.

His jacket was weighing him down, making it even more difficult to breathe, and his gloves were wrinkling his fingertips, so he removed and dismissed them as he asked, _What happened? Are Prompto and Gladio all right?_

"The bridge collapsed and we fell, but Gladio and Prompto were safe on the other side. They're heading toward the altar now, but I'm feeling pockets of civilians coming out of their hiding places along with waves of imperial troops landing. They're about to be busy."

She had come to kneel in front of him by the end of her report, her own jacket removed and the tendrils of hair around her face dripping onto his wet trousers. Ignis reached out with gentle fingers as she kneeled, grazing his fingertips just below one of the purple and opal gashes on her arms. There weren't bullets inside the wounds, at least, from their appearance, but it seemed their troubles were only just beginning. How many more times would she be shot today?

Placing a cool hand at the back of his neck, she tilted her head and looked inward for a moment. _I think your lungs are okay. Can you stand?_

 _I believe so,_ he replied, and she stood to help him to his feet. The world seemed to spin for a moment as she held him steady, but he was already pressing a finger to his ear.

 _Is that going to work?_ she asked.

 _We're about to find out. It was claimed to be water resistant._

A crackling static made him rethink his assessment, until he heard Prompto's muffled, relieved voice in his ear, "Iggy! We thought you were a goner. Laura make it too?"

"Yes, yes, we're both quite all right," he managed in a smooth voice, and he was surprised at its evenness, given how badly his throat was still burning. "It'll take more than a little seawater. I'm more worried about Noct. We'll find a way to the altar while the both of you assist any remaining citizens and keep the enemy distracted."

"You got it," Gladio said.

"Be careful," Ignis added. "Laura's intel indicates we're all about to be overrun."

"No prob," Prompto said. "Thanks for the heads up!"

His expression growing hard with determination, he looked over at Laura and nodded. "Let's go. We need to find a better vantage point if we're to assess the situation."

* * *

Ignis eyed the sweeping current that rushed beneath the remaining portion of the Eastern Bridge, which jutted out just over the canal that was keeping them from leaving the Tigiano District—and the most direct path to the altar. Even if they could safely swim across, the walls on the other side were too high for them to scale.

"He's still alive, love," Laura reassured him, placing a hand on his arm. "And you saw yourself that he has Titan fighting on his behalf."

And while he clung to that one great hope, there were still so many facts he'd tallied up over the last hour of racing through the ruined city streets and cutting down squads of MTs with reckless abandon. Despite his best efforts to remain calm and rational, those facts were bubbling up in his chest and threatening to choke him: the great column of golden power they'd seen rising from the altar like a beacon, that Noct still hadn't answered his calls, and most disturbingly—that the Chancellor had certainly visited and left the altar.

Still, with their path cut off from them, there was nothing they could do but turn back. Touching her elbow for some small measure of comfort as well as to lead her back, Ignis strode toward the arch at the end of the bridge, but his breath caught in his throat as Laura shoved him into the corner of the supporting pillar right as they were about to reach the street again.

 _Ravus . . . and I think Caligo._

Ignis nodded, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently reversing their places, pressing her up against the corner as he slowly peered around the pillar to catch sight of the source of the footsteps he was just beginning to hear echoing in the open square just beyond the bridge.

"Have you located the Ring yet, Commander? And what of Lunafreya?" the High Commander asked.

Caligo strutted awkwardly behind Ravus, who was striding toward an awaiting Magitek engine hovering over the bay. "Both, High Commander, but our forces are unable to extract either at present. We've no way of approaching the altar so long as the Archaean stands in our way."

Ignis allowed himself a silent, cleansing breath. At least they weren't the only ones being prevented from approaching the altar, so Noct and Lady Lunafreya's safety couldn't be compromised any further than it already had been.

The High Commander had slowed, staring out at the open water where Titan stood knee-deep, beating back Magitek engines with his massive fists and sending them hurtling into the water and city streets without regards to allies nor enemies below. Much of the area just beyond the Tigiano District had been leveled by the ships-turned-wrecking-balls, and the source of much of the black smoke floating on the air and choking them all was a pile of exploded ships setting much of the Pitra District ablaze.

"Even the gods are on his side," the High Commander sneered, but then he sighed, seemingly changing his mind about the Magitek engine as he turned and began walking in the opposite direction. "Neither the King nor the Oracle will escape with their lives if the fighting continues. Order a full retreat. I'm going in alone."

"B—but Sir!" Caligo protested, and Ravus whirled on him.

"I assume you are already familiar with how I got this arm?" he asked in irritation and impatience, holding his Magitek prosthetic out in Caligo's face.

". . . Yes, Sir."

"Then you must also know the Ring is worthless without one who can wield it," he barked, turning back and walking away.

Had Lord Ravus just implied that he had lost his arm to the Ring? Had he attempted to use it during the invasion? It would seem that the price for putting on the Ring, even if one's intentions weren't altruistic, wasn't necessarily death, but then, Ignis supposed that the High Commander technically _was_ of royal blood, as often as the Fleuret and Lucis Caelum families had crossed over the centuries. Perhaps his stay of execution had been for that reason alone.

As Caligo's engine pulled away, Ignis looked down at Laura before stepping out from behind the pillar and into the street.

"Time is of the essence. We must make haste." It was likely that Lord Ravus was heading on the same route he and Laura had just been about to take—the only other bridge over the canal that they hadn't personally seen collapse. If they followed discreetly at a distance, it was possible the High Commander would clear their path ahead of them.

"I'm afraid haste is going to be an issue," she said in a small voice, and he looked back at her to see that her eyes were faraway and blank. "We've got incoming. A _lot_ incoming."

He could hear them now, their metallic boots clanking against the paving stones of the courtyard, even over the blasts still sending chunks of what was left of the city into the sea. In this concentration, he could taste the scourge on the air emanating from the MTs as they approached from each sidewalk, each side street.

They were trapped.

Ignis stepped between Laura and the platoon—summoning and crushing a flask of lightning between his palms, calling forth his daggers, imbuing them with the overclocked lightning, and spreading his stance wide to protect her before the shooting began. His mortal body might have been less sturdy than hers, but he was able to take a potion for his injuries—whereas each laser blast or bullet was an injury she couldn't instantly recover from.

His gesture was short-lived, however, as he heard the familiar roar of Magitek engines coming in for a landing behind him on the ocean side. Chancing a quick glance through Laura's eyes, he counted the landing of three MA Pisces and another platoon of soldiers as he felt her back brush against his.

 _Don't forget electra-kitty,_ she said, summoning her falchions.

 _Is it really that difficult to remember the name 'elder coeurl'?_

 _No. Are you really more interested in the fact that I enjoy calling them electra-kitties than the general what-the-fuckery that is the Empire dropping coeurls off in the middle of a full-scale battle?_

 _I suppose you_ _ **do**_ _rather have a point._

Had it not been for the backdrop of the Archaean pounding the massive airships in the distance, the courtyard would have been silent as both parties stared at one another across the paving stones, waiting for the opposition to make the first move. There was no doubt that they were vastly outnumbered, absurdly so. Was this the moment Ignis had feared? Dying by her side wouldn't be so awful, he supposed, now that they were here, but he would've liked to have ensured Noct's safety beforehand.

"Ignis?"

He admired her composure in this moment. Her voice was completely steady as she said his name, so gently. How many days had she had like this, where she was nearly certain that someone would die, and he'd simply been unaware? His admiration for her grew as he steeled his resolve.

"Yes, Rose?"

Turning his head slowly to the side, never taking his eyes off the waiting soldiers and MTs in front of him, he could barely make out her profile over his shoulder from the side of his eye, but he could feel her—cheeky and impish and bubbling with love in his mind. Perhaps there was more hope for this battle than he'd originally believed.

"Dance with me."

Setting his hard eyes back on the enemy, he grinned ferally. With her by his side, they would do more than dance; they would _fly_.

"It would be my pleasure," he said with relish.

As he flashed through the square, lightning licking after his every step, he wished he could take more time to watch her work as she leapt on soldier after soldier, cutting her falchions directly through the armor into flesh so savagely that she seemed to transform into a wild animal. They took out the soldiers in tandem—Ignis growing lightheaded again as he pivoted to the side of a shot and burst ten feet to the left to bury a dagger through the eye of an armored axeman. He blanched briefly as the flash of a blade passed in front of his eyes, but as he recognized the silver-white mithril and heard the ping of a bullet ricochet, he realized Rose had just deflected a shot meant for his head.

With any luck, that was the moment they'd been waiting for, but somehow, he doubted it would be that easy.

Cracking a hi-potion, he felt the cool wash of Noct's magic settle over him—soothing the vicious burning holes of the laser blasts in his skin and even healing the chafing on his thighs and arms from his wet clothes, but doing nothing to alleviate the throb in his head—before turning to the elder coeurl.

 _Take the armor farthest away so you aren't hit by the telepathic backlash,_ he instructed—because he'd be damned if they disconnected from each other at a moment like this, but he didn't receive an answer. It seemed that veneer of civilization had dropped from her mind, exposing the cold, almost alien persona she had alluded to but had never exposed to him. This was Laurelín, the goddess, the Lliamérian Queen—not quite as lost as she had been in the war, but perhaps stepping on that path. As he caught sight of her blue-tinged form warping to the farthest armor, his own drain lance summoned to her hands and an expression of frigid fury on her normally warm features, he couldn't find it in himself to hate or fear this creature, as she'd been moved to this state from her love and defense of him, her mate.

But he knew she wouldn't want this, would regret the excessive force and forfeiture of Rose's identity once the haze had settled, so he sent her a brief flash of them holding hands and laughing as they'd run toward the Bridge of Fists yesterday, along with his worry.

 _Stay with me, Rose,_ he said, turning back to the elder coeurl, who was crouched in a corner and likely charged up for an attack powerful enough to kill him in a single zap.

Her assault didn't slow or decrease in ferocity, but he could feel her desperation, fear, and the chill of her mindscape melt at his image.

 _You're right. Thank you,_ she murmured, warmth growing in their connection again. _Please, be careful._

Ignis's eyes locked on the dancing coeurl whiskers sparking with electricity; all he had to do was get the giant cat to expend its energy fruitlessly before it would be safe to fight.

 _A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark,_ he noted with some amusement as he slid his blades together, igniting his steel.

 _You're a dork, and I love you dearly._

 _You may want to assess what those two premises imply about you, love._

He crouched low and stalked toward the elder coeurl weaving hypnotically to distract the creature. It leapt forward with a hiss, baring its teeth, and Ignis spun to the side and landed into a crouch just as the whiskers snapped forward. Even with the distance of several inches, it felt as though the hair on his arms and head stood on end for a moment as the arcs of electricity dissipated in the air.

 _You mean, even more than your hair already does?_ Laura teased.

 _How very amusing to provoke me in the middle of such a hair-raising experience,_ he remarked before leaping onto the cat's back and crossing his daggers over its neck, slicing through the jugular. Flipping off the flailing body, he landed behind the creature and buried both daggers in its hips before flitting to the side to do the same with its ribs. The giant cat flailed and flopped to its side with a final scream just as the explosions of a conquered armor rocked the square.

 _Two to go,_ he commented as he summoned his radiant lance and made his way to the closest remaining armor. With a running start, he slid under the belly of the great beast, pointing the blade straight up in the air before forcing it through the metal. Throwing all his weight into the effort, he dragged the blade forward, slicing through the delicate circuitry and sending the machine staggering back as the pilot attempted to escape his assault.

Laura spun past him, twisting out of the way of an exploding missile and completing several perfect coupés jeté en tournant en manége around his machine as she sliced at the joints of the legs. As he darted over to her armor and began his assault on its vulnerable leg joints, admittedly with less finesse, the vanity in him wondered if she could perhaps begin teaching him her own style of ballet combat next. The effect of her intuitive movement combined with such a graceful, well-disciplined art was rather stunning—and an aesthetic he aspired to.

 _Add ballet lessons to the list, then,_ she said with a grin as her armor collapsed to the ground in a heap of burning metal. His machine followed suit only seconds after, and he dismissed one of his daggers before rushing toward her and grabbing her hand.

 _Rose,_ he breathed, his blood seeming to dance in his veins at _finally_ being the one to say this. _Run!_

And they did—darting to the center of the square together before the remaining missiles exploded in a cacophony of heat, light, and percussion. Despite his use of potions this afternoon, Ignis's lungs still ached as they heaved for air, to say nothing of the state of his head. But when he glanced down at his fingers woven together with Laura's before looking up to catch her gaze—relieved, smiling, and completely his Rose—he didn't feel a single stirring of his pain or exhaustion. He brought the dagger that was in his other hand around slowly, touching the flat of the blade carefully to the line of her jaw and tilting her face up to his.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes wide and searching. "I needed the reminder."

"I love you," he blurted out indecorously, still trembling from the triumphant rush of survival and so very relieved to find them both still breathing that he didn't care for the moment about silly things like propriety. Dismissing his blade and letting go of her hand, he grasped for her cheeks and pulled her to him, leaning down to devour her mouth—lips sliding against lips, the taste of tea still faintly lingering on her breath, teeth scraping against his mouth, and the warm flesh of her tongue reaching out to taste him as he did the same. The sensation of her hearts pounding made his own seem to gallop out of his chest and across the courtyard as he soothed his fingertips over her cheekbones.

As much as he would've liked for everything around them to suddenly disappear so he could stand there and kiss her forever, or perhaps drag her off to bed, there were, unfortunately, far more important matters to attend to.

"If we didn't have to get to the altar right now . . .," he gasped between breathy presses of his lips to that spot she loved just in front of her ear.

"I know," she replied, her voice low and panting.

"Save it for later?"

"You know it's always here waiting for you," she said, pulling back with a mischievous smile. "Turns out, I'm pretty easy."

"Take care that rumor doesn't get out," he warned, looking down the avenue toward Madrana Street. "Between your reputation and mine, we may not be permitted to show our faces in Lestallum again."

It seemed a full retreat hadn't applied to the land-side of the Empire's operations, as Magitek engines were still landing at several points throughout the city and dropping troops into the streets. They would never make it to the altar on foot at this rate.

"Do you think we could slip in under the radar in a small boat?" he asked, already turning to head back toward the evacuation docks.

"It depends on how much of a dick Titan wants to be. He's not a fan of mine, but he should at least be able to identify us as friends and not foes as we approach if I'm with you."

A crackle of static sounded in his ear, and for a heart-stopping moment, he thought that perhaps Noct was attempting to make contact, but Commander Ricci's authoritative tone sounded a broad announcement instead: "Attention all units: assemble at the docks and prepare for withdrawal immediately. We depart in three minutes."

"Wait!" he interrupted after he'd pressed a finger to his ear, swallowing his disappointment. "We're headed to the altar. We need a boat."

"Have you lost your marbles?!" the commander shrieked.

Ignis might have been more learned in diplomatic relations than military protocol, but the unprofessional nature of even the commanding officers of Accordo was all too apparent in a time such as this. 'Lost his marbles?' Surely not.

"Think Napoleon could probably benefit from lessons on protocol," Laura muttered.

"No," he replied sarcastically to the commander, then added seriously, "but we'll lose the King if we don't act."

 _When did you start calling him the King?_ Laura asked, but he ignored her when the First Secretary's voice cut in with, "Give him what he wants."

"Hey, Iggy, do you copy?" Prompto's voice sounded over the line, but Ignis found he couldn't answer.

An image had shimmered bright and vivid in front of his vision, as clear as the day it had happened—a starry-eyed boy of four with shiny black hair beaming up at him as he grasped both hands around Ignis's. His Majesty's voice seemed to echo in his ears, "Listen well. A king cannot lead by standing still. A king pushes onward, always, accepting the consequences and never looking back. That said, a king can accept nothing without first accepting himself. Should he stand still, I ask you to stand by him and lend him a hand—as his friend and as his brother. Please, take care of my son."

 _ **Oh**_ _,_ _Your Majesty, I'm afraid . . . I must ask your forgiveness,_ he pleaded to the memory of his dearly departed liege as fear, which even in his panic he knew was irrational, bowled over him like a tidal wave. They couldn't lose another King; he simply couldn't lose his brother, even if it cost him his own life. Ignis had _promised_ he would always look after Noct. It seemed as though the fates themselves were doing everything in their power to keep them away from the altar. What if they couldn't reach him in time?

 _Ignis!_ Laura's voiced called from somewhere far away, and he felt hands on his cheeks, grounding him back to reality. Her sapphire eyes, so similar to Noct's, were gazing up at him, searching, worried. _Come on, love. You have to stay with us if we're all to get through this okay._

Yes, he had warned himself only yesterday not to let his fear rule his head. With a deep breath, he managed to chase away his panic, if not the frantic pounding of adrenaline through his blood or the pain lancing through his head, and grabbed Laura's hand before sprinting toward the docks.

 _You're right. Thank you._

 _You save me; I save you. It's what we do._

"Ain't a hard question, Iggy," came Gladio's enraged voice over the comm. "Do you copy—yes or no?!"

"Yes, I copy."

"Then speak up next time! Look, I'm just as worried as you are, but we can't go losing our heads. If we wanna save Noct, we've gotta keep it together!"

"Yes," he admitted. "I suppose you're right. We'll keep moving."

 _He must be terrified too,_ Laura said. _They're running up against far too many troops attacking the residents looking to flee their homes. They haven't made it any closer to the altar either._

"Hang in there Iggy!" Prompto's cheering voice sounded over the comm. "You and Laura take care of each other."

"We will. Thanks, Prompto."

The streets were clear of imperial troops in the Deutatuo Residential District as Ignis and Laura made their way back to the evacuation point, but the group of rescued civilians they gathered and led past ravaged buildings and unrecognizable squares swelled to a dozen by the time they arrived at Commander Ricci's post. Ignis wondered just how many had stayed behind in the first wave of boats and how many Gladio and Prompto would need to assist before they were able to devote themselves fully to getting to the altar.

"If Lord Ravus ordered a full retreat, I wonder why Gladio and Prompto are still encountering so many troops in other parts of the city?" Ignis asked.

"It's the nature of an operation like this when you have so many strong-willed commanders in one place. Caligo has certainly shown willful disobedience towards superiors the two times we've seen him. Ardyn also has command over his own men, and even Aranea is independently-minded with her own force that seems to be loyal to her and her alone."

"Surely you don't believe Aranea would use her company to attack unarmed civilians?" he asked in disbelief.

"No, but she _is_ here for this operation. She was at the masquerade."

"Ah, likely in the air then, with her ship, but I'd have hoped she'd defected by now. I'm beginning to wonder whose side the High Commander is really on these days, as well, with his interest in preserving the lives of both the King and the Oracle."

"My guess would be his sister's side, which may bode well for us," she replied as she hopped off the dock and into the awaiting skiff.

He had just followed suit, grabbing hold of the gunwale to steady himself against the boat's heaving motion, when the Archaean gave a mighty, thunderous roar, sending tremors of soundwaves across the restless ocean's surface and vibrating deep in Ignis's chest. The god threw a fist at one of the ten Magitek engines surrounding him, sending chunks of airship debris and exploding missiles hurtling toward the water and city below.

"Hang on, Noct. We're on our way," Ignis whispered as Laura maneuvered the boat out of the channel and into the active war zone.

 _So, evasive maneuver training starts sooner than I would've expected,_ Laura said in an almost cheerful tone as he did his best to grip the handholds attached to the console. The boat was bucking wildly, the engine rising in pitch and volume as it hit each wave and rose completely out of the water before slamming back down with a crash. They were both jerked from side to side, nearly shaken from the boat as Laura spun the wheel wildly in either direction, her eyes darting back and forth between the sky and the water in front of them to dodge the hailing debris and shrapnel.

 _I'd say the likelihood of us making it are pretty slim,_ she continued, _even with me driving. This thing has all the speed and handling of a drunk bantha, but obviously, you want to keep an eye on the source of everything flying at you and anticipate where it's going to land._

She paused in her lecture as she swerved to miss an enormous piece of what Ignis believed had once been the dome roof of the great cathedral, its impact sending a wall of water toward them that pushed the boat about five yards to the left and showering them with freezing droplets of water. Ignis shivered against the cold as the wind whipped his hair back and stole what little body heat he had between his skin and his damp clothes, but he kept his eyes locked on the golden column of light looming ahead of them and growing closer.

 _If we were being chased,_ she continued casually, as though they hadn't almost been crushed or thrown from the boat, _you'd actually want to alternate between choosing the clearest path and coming as close to the debris as possible, so your pursuer can't predict where you'll go next. Swerving to put debris between you and your enemy is good if the situation applies, but not if speed is also an issue._

 _At least it appears as though the Archaean is paying us no mind,_ he noted, grateful that the god hadn't decided to take action against their incoming or Laura's presence. Having a god as a pursuer was certainly not something they needed to add to their list of experiences today.

 _Well, he's a bit busy at the moment, and we_ _ **are**_ _supposed to be allies,_ she pointed out.

They had almost made it to the altar by this point—that terrifying beacon of sparkling light nearly blinding him to everything else as they sped past the Archaean's massive stone body—when Laura's face grew pale. Ignis whipped his neck up to the sky to see the cause for her concern and spotted a Magitek engine hurtling out of control toward them—as well as three missiles.

 _Too many to swerve at once, we're gonna hit at least a couple. Hold on!_ she said, hugging the wheel to her chest seconds before an ordnance made contact with the water just off their bow. It exploded with a rush of heat and fire, killing their forward momentum with the wave of water it sent rushing back to them.

 _Not over yet. Take a deep breath and don't let go!_ she yelled.

He obeyed without question or comment, wrapping his fingers as tightly as he could around the handhold and ignoring the burn in his lungs as he sucked in the deepest breath of air he could manage. His eyes caught sight of the drop ship barrel rolling into the waves just off their starboard side, followed by several pieces of jagged masonry and debris, right before his every sense was cut off from him in an overwhelming cacophony.

Though he couldn't discern whether it was debris or the wall of water that hit him, it hardly mattered, as whatever it was threatened to knock the breath out of him and succeeded in ripping his fingers from the support, tossing him overboard as though he were no more than an inconsequential piece of flotsam. Frothing water forced its way down his nose as he desperately gripped at his glasses to keep them on his face and frantically kicked his way up. The moment he had broken the surface, he blew his nose violently, expelling the burning saltwater from his already tender lungs and drawing in a desperate gulp of air. Despite all the wonders of the ocean that Laura had shown him recently, he'd had quite enough of nearly drowning today, thank you. Spinning in a circle to assess the situation, he spotted the empty skiff floating several yards away—and no sign of her.

 _Rose?_ he queried, reaching out to locate her, and there—she was beneath him and continuing to descend. Though a Magitek engine maneuvered to hover just above his head, whipping wind and waves into his face and assaulting his ears, he ignored it for the moment in favor of her response, even as the back of the ship opened to reveal a hybrid armor of a type he'd never seen before.

 _I'm all right,_ she said, her voice calm, but he thought he could feel her struggle as she continued to sink deeper. _I'm just a bit . . . stuck at the moment. Working on it._

"Well, well. Look who it is! What could one of His Majesty's royal retainers be doing here of all places?" a familiar, sneering voice sounded over the sound system coming from the ship, and Ignis could just make out the gaudy armor of Commander Caligo as he strutted around the side of the machine to sneer down at him.

Without pausing to wait for an answer, Caligo raised a finger in the air, and the ship's guns turned on Ignis, spattering bullets in thwacking, exploding patters across the waves in his direction. As the shots grew closer, Ignis surmised that if he wanted to live, he couldn't stay where he was out in the open water; the boat was his only option, but it would mean leaving Rose behind.

They couldn't separate today, of all days.

 _Oh for gods' sakes, don't worry about me! I've got a good forty minutes or so of air down here. Get the frack out of there!_

"Bloody hell!" he growled out in frustration as he reluctantly leaned forward and swam to the boat as fast as he could manage.

 _You had better not be lying to protect me, or so help me gods . . .,_ he warned her.

 _I swear, I'm all right. My foot is caught, but I think I can use this pole as a lever. If not, I can always expend the extra energy and use magic—a plan B. I'll be fine._

Heaving his sopping, exhausted body onto the boat and dragging himself to the console, he was relieved to find that the engine roared to life on the first try. Though the Archaean gave another great roar, Ignis couldn't stand to watch the titanic form disappear in a shower of gold sparkles or spend a single moment wondering what that meant for those still on the altar because Caligo had ordered the drop ship to come alongside the skiff.

"Surrender now, and I'll ensure your end is as painless as possible," Caligo taunted.

His only goal now was to lure Caligo away from the scene, to ensure both Noct's safety and Laura's, when she emerged. That would mean a chase.

 _It seems as though I am to be tested on my evasive maneuvering competence much sooner than expected,_ he said before fixing Caligo with a glare.

"Never!" he spat as he aimed the boat at the shore and hit the throttle.

 _I have faith. You always were an excellent student._

"Then you leave me no choice," he heard Caligo say before the spray from a giant splash hit him in the back.

Ignis didn't need to look behind him to know that Caligo had chosen to chase after him in the custom hybrid armor stored in the back of the ship; those wicked-looking propellers were well-suited for maneuverability in the water, after all. However, the fact that he'd insisted on pursuing him in the watercraft only spoke to his stupidity—the drop ship, with its greater speed and better versatility, not to mention the guns capable of spreading over a wider range, would have been much more efficient. Still, Ignis was hardly one to complain about the good fortune that came to him from another's idiocy.

"Here they come," he remarked to himself as he opened the skiff's engine up all the way, trying to apply everything he'd learned in Laura's five minutes of instruction to dodge the missiles headed his way. Fortunately, there was plenty of debris for him to swerve around as he weaved the boat through clear waters, around sharp pillars jutting out of the canal that ran through the middle of the city, and past the exploding ordnances Caligo was hurling at him. Though he also attempted to implement his Intuition in the exercise, he found the jarring explosions, the roaring of the wind in his ears, and his inability to feel relevant vibrations up through his feet too distracting for the practice to be of much use, so he focused instead on the littered path ahead and the creaking, whirring mechanisms of the armor behind him.

"Once you're out of the way, the Ring of the Lucii will be mine!" Caligo bellowed.

Just as Ignis was beginning to wonder what would happen when he ran out of canal, a problem that was approaching all too quickly as he scrambled for a plan, Caligo had apparently discovered the benefits of actually aiming for one's opponent and hit the port side of the stern of the skiff. The resulting explosion deafened and disoriented him momentarily, the heat rolling across his back as his center of gravity seemed to whirl around him. He couldn't be certain, but either he slammed against something or something slammed against him hard, knocking the breath from his lungs and freezing his diaphragm in shock and pain for several moments as he rolled across the surface of whatever had just hit him—land, perhaps?

His hearing was the first sense to return as a high-pitched squeal in his ear seemed to drive a blade into his brain. His earpiece must have gotten hit at some point, which would explain the wet, seeping sensation down his right earlobe and side of his neck. As his diaphragm unlocked, he inhaled deeply, reaching up to yank the apparatus from his ear before it deafened him again and tossing it aside.

 _Ignis! Are you all right?_

 _Yes,_ he replied, keeping his inner voice from groaning in pain as he summoned a potion and crushed it in his hands. The instant relief swept over his aching body as he asked, _Have you surfaced?_

 _Yes, but Gladio and Prompto are trapped in a building under siege on Polipoli Street. I need to go to them._

Despite the effort he could feel in her mind in trying to hide it, her conflict was all too evident; she didn't want them separated today any more than he did—especially at the hands of Jared Hester's killer, but as Prompto and Gladio were most certainly in danger and he wasn't, there was no choice to be made. Even Noct's mind, strong and steady as it had remained since first they'd set out to find him, put Gladio's and Prompto's need first.

 _Yes, by all means, assist them,_ he said unnecessarily, as she had already made landfall and was rushing toward Polipoli Street. _I'll be all right. Remember, I am_ _ **not**_ _Jared._

 _I know. Now go and dance with him._

Ignis refused to allow an incompetent lout like Caligo Ulldor to best him in battle—he wouldn't abide by such a shame as his legacy. This would _not_ be the moment he died.

Summoning his daggers and calling the flame to his hands, Ignis stood tall—ready to exact revenge for Jared; for Gladio; for Talcott; for every other man, woman, and child who had suffered at this brute's ungainly hands.

"I'm afraid not. It will _never_ be yours," he replied vehemently to Caligo's threat. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

 **Author's Note  
**

Sorry, the ability for Ignis to Batman his way around Altissia but conveniently not make it across the city in 5 seconds was too much of a coincidence for me, especially if you look at the map and see that it would have taken 5 seconds for him to get to the bridge Ravus must've used—or even jump in the water and hookshot across the exploded bridge. Since I don't have the luxury of writing, "Sorry love. We can't make it to the other side of this bridge because the game won't let us," he doesn't get his Batman hookshot.


	52. Chapter 52

For the first time in recent memory, Ravus wasn't being watched. Ever since he was sixteen years old, he'd been kept a very close eye on—which even Ravus could admit had been a most prudent practice. Eager to utilize the rare power with which he'd been granted after his only hope for assistance ran away in fear, the Empire had made him an offer he couldn't refuse—join the ranks of the Empire, and they would spare his and Lunafreya's lives.

He had agreed, and not to spare his own life.

That strange sensation of freedom only fueled the oozing rush of satisfaction as he thrust his sword deeper through the vile imbecile's belly. Ravus slowly withdrew his blade, allowing Caligo's nerves to twist and jerk along its sharp edges as he danced like a puppet from the agony of his death throes. With a final, vicious yank, Ravus pulled his sword free as Caligo cried out, and he casually flicked the point against the man's armor, sending him flying back with a final grunt.

He allowed himself the indulgence to stand over the dead man for only a moment. How many times had Caligo towered over Lunafreya's cowering form as she huddled on the floor in an effort to protect herself from his meaty fists? How many times had Ravus not been there to protect her from a man four times her size? And for all that he had taught her to defend herself, it seemed the escalation of violence coupled with the need to appear cooperative meant that she would always suffer at someone's twisted mercy.

Though she had long-since ceased fearing the Commander, it would be one of Ravus's highest honors to inform his sister that at least one source of her torment had been removed from the land of the living by his very hands.

His conscription had perhaps been fortuitous, as from the very day his dear sister had been named Chosen Oracle, he'd known that her serving the lazy, ineffectual King, who spared nary a care for the people and lands beyond his own, would take her life one day. The ancient pact between the gods, the forebears of House Fleuret, and House Lucis Caelum had always, at least in Ravus's opinion, been a one-sided affair, with House Fleuret suffering most of the burden while the Kings sat back on their comfortable throne in their walled city.

Ravus had named himself Lunafreya's sole protector the day their mother had been murdered, and to protect the Chosen Oracle, Ravus would need power, an abundance of it. If she were to survive her duty, Lucis would need a new Chosen King, and Ravus would need to toil his way up the ranks of the Empire so that he might one day be in the position to put on that Ring, cite his noble blood, and prove that no one was more worthy than he to bear the mantle to protect his sister.

It hadn't worked out as he'd imagined, of course.

With shrewd, assessing eyes, Ravus turned to the Lucian boy—yet another wasted specimen of spoiled, cowardly Lucian nobility, as they all were. Given the cowardice of their king, how could they possibly be anything else? Still, he'd managed to get further than Ravus had expected, to defeat Caligo's armor singlehandedly, but then he supposed anyone likely could, with such an incompetent moron at the helm.

"Ravus," Ignis said in a low voice, but Ravus took note of the boy's own intense, assessing gaze. Though his hands were ready to summon a weapon, he hadn't yet pulled a blade, instead leaving his options open in case diplomacy were an option.

Intelligence, caution, perhaps talent? Possibly, he'd been incorrect about _all_ Lucian nobility. Though he could freely traverse the city to the altar on his own, perhaps he should join forces with this child, learn more about the people his sister seemed so eager to marry into, even if he still believed she was throwing her life away for naught. If he were to do this, however, the boy would have to prove himself immediately, as word of Ravus's defection would quickly spread if even one of the soldiers currently rushing into the square to surround them escaped to tell the tale.

His decision was made the moment an armored axeman lifted his weapon to split Ignis in two, but as he lunged forward, Ignis seemed to already be aware of the MT behind him, summoning his daggers and twisting to the side faster than Ravus's eyes could focus. Judging Ignis's previously demonstrated caution, Ravus allowed himself to lose sight of the potential enemy as he drove his blade through the Magitek core of the axeman, dropping it to the courtyard pavement in an arc of scarlet electric currents.

He took a few steps back, where he could see from the corner of his eye Ignis standing at the ready.

"I've no quarrel with you, boy," Ravus informed him. "Join me. I can secure us a way to the King and the Oracle."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Have you any other options?" he spat impatiently. They needed to secure their tentative alliance before one of these damnable soldiers alerted anyone.

There was a moment of silence before he replied, "You have a point," and Ravus heard the clank of metal, what sounded like the body of an MT crashing to the stone, and the metallic tinkling of summoning. At the very least, the boy would make an interesting companion on this mission.

"Then it's settled."

As Ravus spun to catch the neck of the nearest soldier, his white coat whipping up in the momentum, he heard Ignis say urgently, "We must be quick."

"You needn't remind me," he growled back. He was not a simpleton, and he was well aware of the consequences—far more than the boy, after all.

Concentrating on his work as he was, Ravus didn't take note of the advisor's skill until only two soldiers were left. Flickering lightning seemed to shrink back into his hands as Ignis flashed toward the bannerman, who Ravus knew by his status alone would be hopeless with any weapon. It was why such men were given the vulnerable position of holding something as useless as a banner in the middle of a battle—steel fodder for the other side while the more skilled took them out. Flipping into the air, Ignis came to balance on top of the crossbar of the soldier's banner before allowing his daggers to lengthen into pointed icicles with a flick of his wrists. He leapt high with a somersault, coming down blades-first and cleaving the frantic soldier's helm in two before landing lightly on his feet.

Ravus was familiar with the second man by his moves alone—Jason Bormundr—a decent, if middling swordsman, overly eager to bring honor to his house and family. Ravus stood back and watched, appraising Ignis's bladework in curiosity as he allowed the icicles to melt from his blades, switching to fire as he ducked the soldier's swift blow as though the man had been moving in slow motion. Ignis seemed not to even need to think as he effortlessly flipped his hold on the dagger and stabbed down into the collar, an unfortunate weak spot for an imperial rifleman. Taking several steps back, he tossed one of his flaming daggers, sending it spinning with the precision of an archer through the flailing man's helm directly into his eye.

"The Power of the Storm, Ice, _and_ the Inferno," Ravus remarked, raising an eyebrow as Ignis dismissed his blades, his chest heaving with effort. "You've been blessed by the gods."

The advisor pulled himself straight, attempting to hide the fact that he was out of breath as he used his middle finger to push his glasses further up onto his nose. An insolent smirk spread across his lips as he said enigmatically, "Hardly. Just the one, but she's more than enough."

The Glacian, then, as the Tidemother never gave her favor to mortals. The advisor's flippant explanation didn't account for how he'd managed to master the elements outside Her purview. However, it mattered not; the gods' favor was hardly worth much. His own sister had been followed much of her life by three Messengers, and yet they'd done little but further endanger her life, conveniently going missing whenever she was in danger and assisting her in passing secret messages back and forth as though the enemy Prince were nothing more than a childhood pen pal.

But Ignis's explanation also gave him pause. His own Power of the Storm manifested itself differently and came at a higher cost to wield, which was why he did so infrequently. Even if Ignis's power was not as strong as Ravus's and obviously came at a lower cost, this man was no mere Glaive. His use of elements was too versatile, the way he moved bordering on inhuman. There were only two families capable of such power, and only one Blessed.

"What is your connection to House Fleuret?" he demanded, and the advisor's brow shot up, his eyes widening.

"None, that I'm aware, though I'm told my father did hail from Tenebrae."

"His name."

His brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing in suspicion as he replied, "Venetus. I'm afraid I never learned of his bachelor's name. Scientia was the name that had to be carried on in Lucis."

Venetus—named in the style of the noble families of Tenebrae, so it was almost certain they were somehow related, even if distantly. The stripping of Ignis's name, of his heritage, of the one thing that could possibly redeem him in Ravus's eyes, however, was a crime typical of those arrogant Insomnians.

"Lucians," he sneered. "Xenophobic, the lot of you, even to your own allies."

"It wasn't a question of origin," Ignis replied calmly, though his jaw tightened at his words. "My family has carried the name 'Scientia' since it was given to our founding ancestor by Ifrit himself in the founding of Solheim. It might behoove you to realize that not all of us conform to your narrow-minded view of the world."

So, the boy had auspicious origins on both sides of his bloodline, gave off at least the impressions of intelligence, and wasn't completely hopeless with a blade.

"You might be of some use after all," he remarked, turning to head up the stone steps that would lead them toward the altar. Calling on the Power of Earth, Ravus raised a foot and casually kicked down the door that would lead them from the Padore District, and upon seeing the street before them, with its every building knocked to the side or reduced to rubble, Ignis's eyes grew pained.

Green—the boy may have had potential, but he was as sheltered and inexperienced as Ravus had initially believed. But Ravus had seen the look in his eyes as he'd stood fearlessly at the ready between the little princeling and a hopelessly superior foe back in Aracheole—the expression of devotion that went far beyond that of duty. He was well-familiar with that desperate longing, that wild, reckless willingness to throw one's life away to protect a loved one.

These past twelve years, Ravus had fully devoted the full measure of his existence to ensuring Lunafreya would survive her role—there was nothing else left in this wretched world for him to live for. Try as he did, he couldn't see the world or a future through his sister's eyes, a future brimming with light and love and goodness. Her view stemmed from the naiveté and idealism of youth, of having not yet been fully beaten down as Ravus had, which signified at least that he'd managed to somewhat succeed in protecting her as she piece by piece sacrificed herself to a ravenous, greedy, and uncaring people.

Ravus's undying love for his sister had been the only reason he'd allowed her to pursue her feelings for that dishrag of a boy despite his better judgment. He knew from experience that not having the freedom to make one's own way in life was no life at all, so he'd allowed her to make her choices, even if he thought them foolish.

Ravus wondered how much of this Ignis had endured with Noctis.

"Magitek armor," Ignis spat like a curse under his breath as they reached the edge of the balcony to fully view what was left of the street. From their vantage point, two armors patrolled the deserted rubble, keeping the area free of civilians and under Empire control.

"You needn't waste your time," Ravus informed him before he could leap out of their relatively sheltered hiding place. "I've ordered a full retreat. They'll be gone soon enough."

As Ignis came to kneel beside him, his eyes hardened, glittering with distrust, and Ravus wondered at the cause for him to suddenly doubt his word.

"Not according to my intelligence," Ignis shot back. "Even in this very moment, troops are landing in the Erteno Residential District, pulling innocent civilians from their hiding places and slaughtering them, bombing occupied buildings, and setting fire to the bridges to cut off any escape."

Ravus's eyes flashed to Ignis's ears to see that there were no communication devices on his person. "From where do you receive your intelligence?"

"Not that it matters, but I have my ways. The point is that I speak the truth, and I should like an explanation before I throw in my lot with the likes of a man capable of such malice."

"I have none," Ravus ground out in frustration. "Except perhaps Ardyn. For weeks now, my orders have been undermined by that overreaching diplomat. Doubtless he suspects my motivations."

Ignis looked up sharply at the Magitek engine coming in for a landing overhead to load the armor waiting in what had once been a decorated courtyard. Seeing for himself that Ravus's word was true, the advisor seemed to relax somewhat as he turned back to Ravus.

"Why turn against the Empire? Why now?"

How disappointing—such an obvious question. Beginning to rethink the boy's intelligence, he said impatiently, "My sister's life is at stake. Is that not reason enough?" Ignis scoffed, lowering his eyes to his boots and shaking his head in disbelief, and Ravus, beginning to understand the motivations behind such blunt words, hastened to explain. "The paths we tread may differ, but the blood coursing through our veins is one. So, too, is our calling. I must protect her."

At his words, Ignis's gaze met his in understanding. So, Ravus had been right about the boy's love, whether romantic or familial, but unlike Ravus, the advisor had gone too far in protecting the Prince, spoiling him, rotting him, raising him as a useless, pathetic waste of dull and sleepy nobility—just like his father.

"Is it safe to assume this means you'll lend Noct a hand?" he asked with a disbelieving air.

"Don't be asinine," Ravus cut off the end of his words. "Our interests may have aligned in this moment, but I have not allied myself with _him._ "

Ravus also recognized well that slightly manic, desperate light in the boy's eyes now—that edge of madness should the worst happen and his charge be lost to the darkness the Prince so thoughtlessly hurled himself into without regard for those who looked after him. The very same edge of the abyss seemed to haunt Ravus daily, as there would be nothing left in this world for him—no dawn, no hope, no future, no world at all if his lifetime of diligent care and commitment were all for naught. If Lunafreya were not worthy of the bright future which she envisioned and fought for, no one was. This brutal heartless world was undeserving of saving at the expense of her bright, sweet, selfless soul.

Ignis's eyes drifted from Ravus's own gaze down to linger on his Magitek arm, his lips tightening and chin tilting in thought. After several weeks of receiving such stares, Ravus had grown used to them, but he was curious to know the boy's thoughts on the subject. It was common knowledge that he'd lost his arm in the invasion, though the stories as to the reason varied greatly from truth to the ridiculous.

"What of it?"

"I have doubts that you were born with a prosthetic," he remarked in a dry tone, his intonation rising as though he were asking a question yet giving nothing away. Ravus recognized this as an interrogation tactic to encourage the subject to make an assumption as to the knowledge desired, the most important and relevant information. However, Ravus had nothing to hide.

"Your doubts are correct. I once believed it was I who was destined to dispel the darkness. This is proof I was wrong," he answered, examining his mechanical hand as he clenched it into a fist.

Though the foreign apparatus obeyed his command as precisely and efficiently as the one with which he'd been born, it was without feeling, without the organic power that coursed through his veins or the warmth of his blood. There was something treasonous about this arm, and not simply because the loss of his original one was the very same that had been sliced open the day his mother had been murdered. It was as though this thing had its own soul, maliciously lingering inside him in a way that made his blood run cold, but there was nothing that could be done about it now. What was done was done; he merely had to wait for the consequences of his actions.

Ravus's very last hope for saving Lunafreya had been extinguished that day, as a carefully maintained candle of vigil is extinguished against the unforgiving winds of a mighty hurricane. He'd believed that of all those walking this world, there had been no man worthier than he of noble blood to wield the Power of Kings and assist his sister in her calling. Upon their refusal, their insistence that _Noctis_ , the inutile child was to be their ignorant sacrifice, Ravus finally let go of his life's ambitions.

He still had his doubts about the child's ability to succeed; he still begged his beloved sister to hold at least _something_ back of herself in these damnable covenants so that she would live to see the future she believed in. But despite the futility of her toils, she continued to love the spineless cur that was so unworthy of her sacrifice, and he couldn't deny her the _one_ source of happiness she'd created for herself. When she'd faltered and attempted to pass on her calling, he'd encouraged her to show the Prince the truth of her heart, to inspire him to succeed and see her vision of a bright future, because Ravus certainly would not have found the empty words to do so, faithless as he was in both the boy and the future.

"We haven't much time," Ravus said, standing. Apparently, even the armors in this area had chosen to disobey his orders and continue their sweep of the area. They would have to take them down together by stealth if they were to reach the altar.

"I'm aware," Ignis replied in a sarcastic, lilting tone, crouching low and ducking behind a shot-up Gelati Galigione cart.

As they approached the MA Veles, Ravus, doubting the boy's ability to handle such an operation at his level of skill, called over his shoulder, "Keep up."

But the advisor had already flitted past, summoning his daggers as he nimbly sliced through the foot joints—as effectively as though he'd been the one to design and assemble the machine himself. With a powerful kick, he sent the armor tumbling before sliding out of the way of its descent. But for the boy's expertise, he wasn't quite as effective as Ravus at taking the apparatus down; the core was still operative. Ravus leapt high in the air, grabbing hold of the body for support as he landed, and twisted his sword with a violent jerk into the port of the MA Veles's arm. Before it could fall to the stone with a ground-shattering clash, Ravus leapt off its back and landed lightly in front of Ignis, raising his eyebrow in a challenge.

"Ready?" Ignis asked.

Ravus rolled his eyes. Honestly, he wasn't one of the child's road trip pals. "Do you have to ask?"

They had just taken down another armor in tandem, with Ravus piercing the core as he had before, when he heard the roaring buzz of another Veles on the roof. Whirling to spot the source, Ravus found he had to take a step back as Ignis leapt in front of him, hurling a polearm with deadly speed and fluid accuracy into its inner workings, his body following through with the movement as though he were dancing. Clearly, the child hadn't been trained by the ineffectual Crownsguard, not even with the dullard of brutish strength that was the Shield's claim to fame. He'd gone beyond the standard sources to acquire his skill, and even Ravus could hold a grudging appreciation for that sort of dedication.

Somewhat taken aback at being caught off guard and saved by a Lucian noble, of all people, he warned, "Don't get in my way."

"So long as you stay out of mine," he snapped back before leaping on the walkway that would lead them to the Pitra District.

As much as it pained him to admit it, even to himself, the child was beginning to earn his respect. Green and still a bit naïve though he was, Ignis Scientia was resilient, cunning, and ruthless when it came to protecting those he loved, not unlike Ravus himself. Ravus could hardly imagine such a man pledging his undying allegiance to a spoiled brat of a Prince. Was it at all possible that Ravus had been mistaken about the boy? He doubted it, but he needed to ask if he was to be certain the child was worthy of receiving his father's glaive.

"Tell me," he said quietly as they darted across the smoky courtyard, hopping over piles of rubble and jumping over great tears in the paving stones left by hurled Magitek engines. "Do you truly believe Noctis is the one True King?"

"I believe that goes without saying."

"If he is, he still has much to prove. The darkness will not wait for his ascent. It will consume our star and all upon it."

"I know," Ignis admitted. "He may not yet grasp the gravity of his calling, but once he does, he will rise to the occasion and fulfill his destiny."

White his conviction was admirable, Ravus had seen far too much evidence of the boy's weakness. He would need something more if he was to hand over King Regis's sword—one solid piece of evidence beyond this boy's blind faith.

"One can only hope you're right."

Hope—it wouldn't be enough.


	53. Chapter 53

The chill in the air brushed across Ignis's damp body as he and Ravus _finally_ sprinted onto the stone Altar of the Tidemother just as the sun was beginning to set.

"Noct!" Ignis called out, wishing with all his will to hear Noct's impatient and exasperated voice call back to him, demanding to know what had taken Ignis so long to get to him, but he was met with only silence.

"Lunafreya!" Ravus shouted from beside him.

As Ravus rushed ahead, a flash of white out of the corner of Ignis's eye distracted him, and he shifted to face the possible threat, his fingers twitching in preparation to summon a weapon. His hands stilled, however, at the sight of Pryna lurching toward him before collapsing to the ground, her body heaving with the effort of her pants.

"You're her dog," Ignis remarked softly, thinking of Umbra's sister.

Her dark eyes met Ignis's before she heaved a great sigh, golden fireflies of Eosian power flitting around her prone body that coalesced into a light, beginning as a gentle glow and growing brighter and brighter until he had to throw his hands up to his face to shield himself from its radiance. He could taste that indefinable scent of time on the dog's aura that he would sometimes detect on Rose and wondered if the dog was attempting some sort of time travel with her last breaths.

He realized he was wrong, however, when a cold, foreign presence pushed against his consciousness, inserting itself into his mindscape without regards to his wishes. The sensation wasn't the warm, comforting contact he'd grown accustomed to from Rose; it was sharp, emotionless, frigid, though not necessarily malevolent. Still, he didn't care for it invading his mind as it was. Doing his best to fight against its invasion despite not being a telepath, he reached out to Rose, who was dangling by her fingertips from the roof of what used to be a quaint brownstone in Erteno but was now a charred, bombed-out shell of broken masonry.

Words didn't need to be exchanged as she dropped to the street and swept fully into his mind, beating back the foreign invasion with her own wall of sparkling gold as Ignis's tension eased. All was still for a moment as Pryna's consciousness hovered just outside of Rose's—an impasse.

But a sudden rolling tide of grief crashed into him from Rose's thread as she said, _It's safe for you to know now. Let her show you?_

Did she mean for him to allow this contact? Did he truly wish to hear what the gods had to say to him? In his entire life, Ignis could never turn down the offer of knowledge, no matter its contents, source, or consequences. Knowledge was who he was, apparently—a Scientia, and it was only as he'd told Ravus of his name's origin that he began to wonder why, precisely, Ifrit had named his ancestor for it. How much impact had that name had on his own character? And that was to say nothing of what his mother had told him of his family's rather unique naming tradition for the eldest child.

Forcing himself to relax against the oncoming discomfort he was about to allow, he gave Rose permission to withdraw her protection.

 _Please, forgive me. Remember, this is all to save the world. We all have a higher calling,_ were her last, ominous words before she withdrew the wall, and Pryna's presence swept in—bitter cold and strangeness creeping over his brain next to Rose's light, drowning out his vision of reality, only to replace it with images he begged for all the world weren't being seared into his mind.

Noct's face—weary with time passed and the weight of a future he didn't ask for, pulled into a vicious snarl as he summoned King Regis's sword and rammed its tip into the floor at his feet, which were pressed tight against the throne at the Citadel. Ignis's breath was stolen from him, watching helplessly as the apparitions of the full Royal Armiger appeared in a circle around the staircase leading to the throne, the beauty of their phosphorescent sparkles belying the price Noct had paid in acquiring them—the price that Ignis was now learning. The spectres of each of the twelve Lucii took up their weapons before slamming the cold, sparkling metal into Noct's chest, and as Noct recoiled from each blow, his hand slowly slid lower and lower down the hilt of His Majesty's glaive before slipping off completely.

Just as Ignis was about to let go of his composure and scream his objections to the sky, to the gods, anyone who would listen, a deep, craggy voice boomed through his consciousness.

 _ **A power greater than even that of the Six, purifying all by the Light of the Crystal, only at the throne can the Chosen receive it, and only at the cost of a life, his own.**_

Ignis took in a shuddering breath when he recognized His Majesty's battle armor as the final thirteenth Lucii hung in the air in front of the throne. No, surely the King wouldn't . . ., but the man that had once slowly allowed himself to be eaten alive by the power of the Ring to save his city, the man that had smiled tenderly from afar as Ignis had painstakingly dedicated every aspect of his life to care for his son, dove down from where he hovered, took up his sword, and drove both his glaive and himself into Noct's chest, into his own son's barely-beating heart.

 _ **The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price must be paid.**_

Whatever executioner had decided he should see this spared Ignis the image of Noct's final moment, only to show him standing in a void of swirling colors, screaming in agony as the spectres of the Royal Armiger exploded from his back. The thirteen Lucii once again took up their arms, and Noct, his skin threatening to break apart from the sheer amount of power coursing through him, signaled the charge against a Starscourged Chancellor.

 _ **To cast out the Usurper and usher in Dawn's light will cost the life of the Chosen. Many sacrificed all for the King; so must the King sacrifice himself for all.**_

Ignis couldn't bear the final vision—the sight of his childhood friend, his eyes rolling up in his head, his skin shot through with paper thin curls of ash and burning lava, collapsing on his back before being consumed to ash and phosphorescent petals.

Everything—their entire lives had been a lie. From the moment Ignis's parents had allowed him to be taken away: his _fucking_ indoctrination; his promise to the King; his lifetime of servitude and devotion, of learning and working and suffering—it had all been a sick and twisted mirage to trick him into thinking he was making headway in an effort to save his beloved brother from a cruel fate. All this time, and he'd been unknowingly helping them raise him as their sacrificial lamb.

Ignis stared down at the hands that had committed such treachery as he kneeled on the wet stone.

"What did I just see? A vision of what is to come?" he asked himself in disbelief, praying that this somehow wasn't so, that it was somehow all a horrific nightmare.

 _Yes,_ Rose said solemnly, but there was an undercurrent of grief that alerted him to the fact that he hadn't yet realized the full scope of the consequences of his voice grew remorseful and pleading as the realization broke over him. _I couldn't tell you. It had to be this moment, from someone in your timeline, or we would have killed us all. Please, Ignis, I'm so sorry,_ she beseeched.

She knew. Of course, she'd known. She had known of the Fall before they'd even left the city, so why wouldn't His Majesty or the Crystal have told her about this? She had known in every moment as she smiled at him, held his hand, promised her undying love, and knocked through every wall he had spent his entire life meticulously crafting around his heart, brick by brick, sealing his soul in along with the one pure thing he'd had in his life—love. He had never been a man to give away his trust as one did pamphlets on the street, to say nothing of the scarred remnants of his heart, but the very idea that he'd fallen asleep on her as she dreamed of the death of his country before fusing his mind with hers as she concealed from him the death of his brother . . . his naiveté was too great for him to bear.

That overwhelming sense of betrayal flooded his chest, stealing his breath away and making him tremble, and for once, he didn't put the wall up between them to hide himself away or protect her. He _wanted_ her to feel the blade she'd pressed so precisely into the soft underbelly he'd exposed to her—took relish in her answering anguish at just how thoroughly he hated her in that moment, not only for making him love her and lying to him but binding him to her, his shame, forever. No longer was she his lodestar, she was his lodestone, and in that moment, who she was or what she had given him was of absolutely no importance.

Ever since he was a child, she'd been guiding and manipulating his life, twisting his relationship with Noct into whatever she deemed would make it easiest on the both of them when it was time to send him off to slaughter. She'd manipulated Noct into loving them all even more deeply than he had—including Lady Lunafreya—so that his soul would be properly prepared for the moment his blood was spilled in reparation for a sin no one had committed.

 _Neither of you had a choice. I didn't have a choice. Ignis, please, listen to me! I was only trying to help make the best of a hopeless situation. There's still so much you don't understand, that I don't even understand. The one thing I can still control—the one flux point I can influence is your life._

 _You_ _ **are**_ _the anathema,_ he hissed at her, but he wanted to scream it aloud until her synapses were branded with his loathing, wished he could push venom into her veins so that she would know what it felt like to be poisoned as she had poisoned him. _You're no different than the Six—forcing us to dance like puppets to your whims. If you couldn't tell me, couldn't help me save him, then why did you stay here and burden us with your existence? Why don't you just leave?!_

 _I'll do whatever is necessary whenever the time comes, and you may find the problem will take care of itself. But if we're both still alive when this is over, I'll do whatever you wish._

Ignis ignored the implication of her words, and to his satisfaction, she didn't put the wall up between them, choosing instead to take her just punishment as his mind lashed at hers, whipping at it until she bled. Even as she caught Prompto around by the scruff of the neck to pull him down behind a crumbling section of wall, Ignis gnashed his teeth at her, sending her the sensations of tearing into her flesh and raking desperate claws over her—every place he had once allowed his bare hands to caress in treachery to his liege. A traitor. Ignis Scientia, who had once prided himself in being the cautious discerning strategist, had followed his youthful ignorance down this twisted path and had been transformed into a traitorous, foolish child—disloyal to his king.

His liege. With one final crack of his whip of hatred, he flung a solid wall of mythril up between them so that her poisonous golden thread was no more than a weeping, faded filament of wire. Would that he could banish it from his body forever, but he was soiled, tainted for eternity by her _love_. He would beg Noct's forgiveness for his own dishonesty regarding _her_ later; he needed to ensure Noct's safety first.

Hurling himself to the altar, he knew before he'd even gotten a sufficient look at the two figures huddled together on the ground that it was too late for Lady Lunafreya. Ignis had to squint against the sparkling gold power of Eos emanating from them to see Ravus's silhouette, stiff-backed, fists clenched, and eyes raised to the sky in inconsolable grief. But what about . . ..

"Noct!"

As he drew closer, Ignis could taste the healing in the magic on the air as glittering golden light trickled slowly from Lady Lunafreya's body to Noct's until it faded and grew dark; she had given her last to save Noct's life.

 _So that he may complete his journey to the throne one day to be killed by his own father,_ Ignis thought to himself bitterly.

Still, if there was anything that could be done . . .. Summoning a phoenix down, Ignis held it out to Ravus, but he only shook his head.

"Your accursed covenants were killing her long before the wound. Already, her flesh had begun to fail her."

So there truly was nothing they could do. But Noct was alive for now, breathing, at least, and though Ignis made an attempt at breathing in a sigh of relief, it didn't quite bring the cleansing purge and alleviation he'd been hoping for. Noct had already lost everything, or so Ignis had thought, but in addition to losing his home and father, he'd just lost the fiancée he was only just beginning to realize he loved along with his future. How could Ignis bear to tell him what he'd learned—to dash the one remaining sliver of hope that would make the rest of his short life worth living?

A prick of empathy struck him in that moment for Laurelín in the same situation, but he ignored it. She, after all, may have known about Lady Lunafreya this entire time as well, for all he knew.

Noct's future wasn't the only light that had been extinguished today; Lady Lunafreya herself, a strong and kind woman, had been ripped from the world far too soon, and their only source of healing the scourge in a time when it was raging viciously was lost. What did that mean for the fate of their world? Had she only temporarily stayed the execution of mankind by her sacrifice? Was Noct to sacrifice himself for naught? Was he to suffer a slow, agonizing fight for the rest of his life only to see the end of everything regardless of his suffering?

No. For all that Laurelín had deceived Ignis, even through the violence of his anger, he knew that her general nature was truthful, and she had said this was all to save the world. But that was little comfort. Without Lunafreya, their world would fall into eternal darkness, and humanity would be doomed to languish in the pits of despair until Noct rushed to his final judgment.

Examining Lady Lunafreya's body, Ignis's eyes were immediately drawn to the column of dark blood staining her dress. She'd been stabbed, by the looks of the wound, standing or kneeling in a vertical position—atypical of the slashing and hacking preferred by blade-wielding MTs and soldiers. Had the Chancellor been the one responsible for dealing her the blow after Ignis and Laurelín had seen his ship flying toward the altar? Why had he left Noct untouched?

"No . . .," Ravus choked, his breath coming in gasps, clenching his teeth as though he could use them to hold back his wash of grief as he lowered his gaze to the pair.

And, of course, in that moment of despair, slow, fat raindrops began to fall from the sky, splattering heavily against the stone of the altar and on Ignis's already damp shirt. How cliché would this horror become before it was over? Even the seas were beginning to surge, the waves of the bay growing angry with frothing white tops in seeming agreement with Ravus's vehement denial and mounting anger.

"First, the Lucians stole from me my mother," Ravus growled under his breath, his voice laced with fury. He reached for the hilt of his sword and drew it, holding the blade aloft. ". . . and now they make a sacrifice of my sister!"

Ignis hadn't truly believed Ravus, even consumed by grief as he was, would harm his dear sister's fiancé, but as Ravus swung his sword down in a high arc above his head, Ignis had to throw himself between the blade and Noct, catching the High Commander's elbow and summoning a dagger with his other hand to meet his blade.

"Get out of my way!" Ravus roared.

Ignis could feel his knees trembling beneath Ravus's prodigious strength—that very same inhuman strength that had taken Gladio down those weeks ago. Grimacing in an effort to hold his position, he managed to grunt out, "What are you doing?"

"What I should have done long ago: ridding us of this menace!"

Knowing he wouldn't last this assault much longer, Ignis made a desperate move and let go of Ravus's arm, bending to catch him around the middle and push him back—all while trusting that the desperate, enraged man wouldn't take his head off in the process. He stumbled to the ground when Ravus merely pushed him away—not completely consumed by his rage then—but Ravus hadn't retreated far enough to ensure Noct's safety in Ignis's mind. Running at him again, he bent low and pushed the High Commander by the hips until they both stumbled—Ravus backwards and he forwards—rolling into a clear stretch of masonry on the other side of the altar.

"Stand in my way and you, too shall meet the same fate: death!" Ravus screamed as they both jumped to their feet, and Ignis summoned his daggers to defend against the attack he now knew would come, for he had no intention of stepping aside.

A jolt shot through him as he called on the skills Laurelín had taught him—to duck and dodge every move Ravus made before he was even aware he was making it. Calling on the ability had seemed natural in the moment, and his surprise stemmed from the fact that he felt not the slightest hint of grief in summoning it. She might have taught him the skill, but his Intuition was all his, even if its acquisition was polluted with the memory of her.

"The Power of the Storm surges through my blade!" Ravus yelled as he infused his steel with arcs of purple lightning, and its appearance reminded Ignis strongly of that moment when Noct had summoned Ramuh at Aracheole, of when Noct had first received the Mark of the Fulgurian in Fociaugh Hollow.

"Come to your senses, man!" he shouted at Ravus, meeting his electrified sword with both daggers and attempting to absorb some of the lightning that was licking its way up his nerves in fiery pulses.

Ignis understood all too well what Ravus was feeling in that moment, for his identical experience was still stinging his every nerve like the aftershock of a ringing slap, even if the events in question hadn't yet come to pass. And he, too was still overwhelmed with the desire to lash out against all those responsible for this gasping torment: His Majesty, Laurelín, that godsdamned dog.

Lady Lunafreya's dog.

Lady Lunafreya had been surrounded by Messengers since she was a child, and it had just clearly been proven that the Six and their Messengers were well aware of Noct's fate. Had Noct's own fiancée possessed foreknowledge as well? It would have made Lunafreya and Laurelín more alike than Ignis could have imagined, and what were the odds that both Ignis and Noct could have been betrayed so completely in the very same manner by those they thought loved them?

But Noct wouldn't even live to that morbid destiny if Ignis didn't stop Ravus now. No matter what, Ignis wouldn't allow Ravus to expel his daemons on Noct. This was what Ignis was born for—to protect his liege, his king, his brother, even if it was a hopeless venture. But unless Ignis's strength had grown to eclipse Gladio's, Ravus was clearly conflicted, as Ignis had won both shoving matches against him and was managing to hold his own against this most recent contest of blades against blade.

"I understand the pain you must be feeling, but Noct isn't the one who did this to her," he shouted, dipping to the side and pivoting to land a blow to Ravus's thigh, but as Ignis was not striking at full speed so as not to truly do him injury, Ravus was able to block the blow. Ignis saw no need to attempt a true assassination until he'd proven that his aims to kill the King were fervid.

"Oh yes, he is!" Ravus screamed as he stretched out a wide-open palm to send an arc of purple lightning through Ignis's body, but he was able to fall back into a back handspring to avoid yet another chilling assault on his nerves.

Ravus was clearly mad with grief, and it was only the similarities in their situations that allowed the small, niggling voice at the back of his head to suggest that perhaps Ignis might have been mad with grief as well. Could he be lashing out at Laurelín just as irrationally as Ravus currently was to Noct? He couldn't see how, but then again, he'd done so before—in regard to Noct, in fact.

As he twisted away from another swift advance of steel, he dispassionately noted how interesting it was that the skills Laurelín had taught him should be used to free up the space in his analytical mind in order to pass his judgment on her.

If he had, in fact, lashed out irrationally, he might have just irreparably shattered every beautiful, kind, life-changing moment they'd shared together—his first time picking shapes from the clouds, watching the stars, expressing his love with his body, visiting another world. He might have lost her love and esteem, and _oh_ , why did that thought pain him so greatly?

As much as he wished he could sit down on this very stone and weep as he never did, even as a child, he couldn't afford to lose himself in Laurelín just now, whether or not her actions had justification; he needed to focus.

There was just enough of their bond left in his mind, diminished though it was, to call on the Crystal's powers, and he pulled it from her, taking his due payment for that which was necessary to save Noct's life from this threat. Coaxing gently at his connection with the Crystal through Noct's side, he found he was able to siphon off enough to supplement what he had in order to bring his namesake to his palms and out of his blades as he lunged to meet another assault from Ravus.

"Lady Lunafreya came to her King's aid in his time of need. She was fulfilling her calling!" he argued from somewhere deep within, and he found that the words had brought a sudden moment of clarity.

This was his damned head at war with his damned heart—as always. He'd never been equipped to balance the two, not really, even after allowing himself to fall for Laura. Even her foreknowledge of the Fall hadn't carved itself into his flesh so deeply, as she hadn't yet settled into his marrow, found a home in his blood, wrapped roots around his heart.

Stepping back from the seething storm of emotions, he could see that his words were correct. Even if she had possessed foreknowledge of Noct's fate, Lady Lunafreya had undoubtedly continued to forge the covenants regardless of her impending death in order to ensure Noct's success, endured hell in the process, and had willingly laid down her life for him. But a woman who had devoted her entire life to her calling as the Lady had wouldn't simply abandon the people she'd so painstakingly cared for in order to preserve a notion as selfish as personal love. Her sacrifice, perhaps even her silence regarding her foreknowledge, had all been to achieve that higher calling.

"Don't try to justify this. She didn't need to die!" Ravus screamed, raising his hand to deliver a stream of bolts to Ignis's chest, but the preparation for the move took far too much time for Ignis's Intuition not to react to with another roll to the side.

Just as His Majesty hadn't needed to die, but he had walked to his gallows with his head held high. Just as Noct wouldn't need to die, but his dear brother would wind up doing the same . . . as his own father plunged his own sword into his own flesh and blood. Who had done this to them all? Who had ripped all their futures away at such a tender age? What sin had they all committed to deserve this?

Ignis might not have known the root of the torment they all had shared from their childhood on, but he was, at the very least, beginning to understand the reason for it—the future.

Allowing his blades to lengthen to icicles, Ignis tossed them, hurling them to Ravus's abdomen and forcing him to stagger back before Ignis dismissed the still hurtling steel. As Ravus recovered his stance, Ignis tried his best to find some reason left in the man. "Kill him, and her sacrifice will have been for naught. Kill him, and you kill her hopes for the future."

"What hope is there in a future that my sister will never see?"

Indeed, what hope was there in a future that his brother would never see? Every iota of Ignis's own being had been steadfastly devoted to Noct since he was three years old—wrought into every stone that made up the foundation of those meticulously-built walls he'd crafted as best he could against the manipulation of his tutors, the bite of the whip, the undermining from his own weak and foolish emotions—except for perhaps the one positive emotion he'd felt from boyhood to manhood—love. His love for his brother was a whispered word every evening as he lay awake in bed, desperate to find a moment's respite from the daemons swimming in his head, screaming at him that no matter how hard he worked, no matter what he learned, no matter how much blood he spilled, he would never be enough to protect Noct from the oncoming darkness, to be of use. What hope was there left for Ignis now, knowing for certain that he would fail to keep him safe? That he would break his childhood promise? That it was never meant to be kept?

After ducking a swipe of Ravus's sword and somersaulting back, he said, "You of all people must understand how Noct feels: bereft of both parents and forced to carry on despite losing those you love. You both feel that pain!"

And Ignis felt that pain as well—most keenly. Ripped away from his own blood at too young an age to even remember them enough to mourn them if they had, in fact, passed, he had also lost the only man that had been a father to him—to both death and betrayal. And Laura . . . whether to his betrayal or hers, he certainly felt the pain of her loss most acutely, a fresh, open, bleeding wound that was even in this moment draining him dry.

"Yet I overcame it!" Ravus raised his blade at his exclamation, and Ignis met it, the metal on metal meeting edge on edge with a sparking clang, which Ignis pushed against to create the flame that would protect him from Ravus's lightning as they glared at one another over the crossed steel.

"And he has as well, and will continue to do so, for I have foreseen it," Ignis growled. "He will walk tall into his destiny knowing that everyone he ever loved, including myself, has betrayed him in favor of this world. Because _that_ is our _true_ higher calling, Ravus—to support theirs."

Even as the words issued from his throat and shook him to his very core, he shivered at the truth of them. Because no matter who had forsaken whom in this desperate endeavor, their utmost intention for fulfilling the prophecy had always been to save the world, not to save Noct, despite Ignis's most fervent wishes. Even though Noct's, Ignis's, and Gladio's entire lives centered around Noct's destiny, their higher calling was grander than that, and Ignis had either lost sight of that or had never truly understood it—if it was even possible to make a child understand such things.

The image of Noct's determined, snarling expression swam in front of his eyes, and even Ignis's broken heart couldn't deny that, before his beloved brother finally collapsed under the piercing blades of his ancestors, his gaze held that of the most determined resolve—the gaze of a man, a King, selflessly fulfilling his duty with pride and honor, just as his father had. It was the same expression that was now forever etched onto Lady Lunafreya's corpse, now growing cold.

"Because preserving the future of the human race is their wish, Ravus—their higher calling. And we will abide by it because we love them most fiercely."

Applying the same standard, Ignis couldn't help but think of Laura in that moment, and her higher calling to keep the world, the universe, the multiverse intact. He acknowledged the thought before shoving it to the side to deal with at a later time, but not before the shiver of fear at what he may have done slithered down his back.

Everything he had endured that day combined with this connection with the Crystal, using the two bonds in such a manner, had worn him down, and his limbs were fast turning to stone with each thrust, each leap into the air, each swipe of his blades as he alternated the elements pouring out of his hands in an effort to tire the High Commander.

Ignis spotted the perfect opening when Ravus fell to the stone beneath his blows, leaning on his Magitek arm, and Ignis drew a dagger high above his head, extinguishing the fire that would cause Ravus undue injury and burying the blade into the complex apparatus of metal and moving parts. At this symbol of victory, Ravus slumped, the fire in his spirit extinguished. Heaving with exhaustion, Ignis also fell to his hands and knees beside him.

"And yet I have to find it in my heart to forgive those who have deceived us for that same calling," Ignis panted between labored breaths, "because they're all I have left. I'll not kill you, because we are the same, Ravus. I know you can overcome this irrationality despite the pain that's threatening to rip you apart because I must also do the same."

Ravus straightened up to one knee, yanking his arm from where it was pinned to the stone. Ignis would have dismissed his blade from where it was still lodged in the High Commander's circuitry, but he found he couldn't summon the energy to do so as he pressed his aching head to the freezing wet altar, shuddering in heartache, cold, and exhaustion.

"I always knew," Ravus murmured, stumbling to the prone forms of Noct and Lady Lunafreya, and Ignis turned to ensure that his ire hadn't been rekindled. ". . . that you would face your fate without fear, fulfill your duty without regret." Grunting in pain, Ravus fell to his knees at Lady Lunafrya's side. "But part of me always hoped . . . that I might see you happy one day. Your burdens lifted, free to live and love as you please."

Gods, Ignis remembered only too well the nights he'd spent poring over a report on incoming Glaive intelligence or driving a blade into a practice dummy in the deserted Crownsguard training facility, wishing in every moment those identical aspirations for Noct.

Overthrowing his weariness, he staggered to his feet stepping gently up behind Ravus but maintaining a distance to allow the grieving man privacy as he cradled his dead sister in his arms.

"You would have made a beautiful bride," he whispered.

Those same golden sparkles that had enveloped Pryna overtook Lady Lunafreya's body in that moment, and a swell of hope lodged in Ignis's throat, but Ravus's voice was still desolate as he spoke. "Even in death, the Oracle does not rest. Only once the darkness is dispelled is her calling truly fulfilled," he said softly, unsurprised at the disappearance of his sister's body and her reappearance as a golden spectre over the restless water next to the altar. He had implied back in Lucis that he'd known the price of the covenant—just how much had _he_ known about this entire process? Was Noct's destiny also included in his expertise? As with the fall of Insomnia, had _everyone_ been aware but the four of them?

As her glittering golden power lit the darkening sky like a beacon and ghostly sylleblossom petals fell to the altar along with the raindrops, he continued in a low, defeated tone, "And, as in life, I know she will confront that challenge with a smile on her face."

And indeed, a sweet smile was gracing the beautiful apparition's expression as she floated back and faded from view. Ravus reached out, collapsing with a shuddering sob, "Sister . . ., please don't go. Please, don't leave me."

Ignis's first instinct was to comfort, to place a hand on Ravus's shoulder, and though he hardly knew the man, he knew that Ravus would prefer his privacy for appearing so indecently, weeping on the stone as he was. Instead, Ignis cast his gaze down to Noct, clenching his jaw, closing his eyes, and allowing a tide of his own grief to wash over him—grief for Lunafreya, grief for Noct, grief for the pieces of his and Laura's broken relationship.

His moment taken, he turned to Noct and bent on one knee, assessing his condition. He was about to scoop Noct into his arms to carry him to the hotel when he heard Gladio call out behind him.

"Iggy!"

"Gladio!" he stood and greeted, relieved to see at least one of his family alive and whole. But something wasn't right. "Are you all right? Where are Prompto and Laura?" Keeping the wall up in his mind, he touched her weakened filament to ensure its presence. It seemed to shiver at his touch, but all was as he'd left it.

There was something not quite right about the smirk that spread over Gladio's face as he sauntered toward Ravus, who was still kneeling on the altar and drowning in his mourning. His eyes were lacking that warm spark of mischief that the Shield possessed even when facing an enemy—they were cold and ruthless.

"Well, well, what have we here?" he said, summoning his greatsword.

Something inside Ignis was screaming to reach out and taste the aura around this man, despite not yet being able to ever feel anything from Gladio, but as soon as Ignis tilted his head and looked with his Intuition, it was instantly clear that this was _not_ Gladio. And though his fingers twitched to summon his remaining dagger, it was too late to act, as Ravus had already met not-Gladio's blade with his own in a resounding clang and slap to the side.

"You!" Ravus hissed, seething with hatred. "Ardyn!"

Ignis could no longer see the Chancellor's expression on not-Gladio's face from his position, but he could hear the oil seep into his voice as he casually flicked not-Gladio's hand in the air and dismissed his sword.

"Oh dear. Was I that transparent?" he oozed, melting into his proper form as he took off his hat with a flourish.

Distracted as he was by the shock, or perhaps through some magic of the Chancellor's, Ignis didn't notice the squad of soldiers rushing onto the altar until a swift kick to his lower back sent him sprawling to the unforgiving stone at his feet. He was just able to catch sight of Ravus being forced to his knees by yet more soldiers before the breath was knocked out of him, and he couldn't move for a moment, frozen from the shock of the force of his landing. Recovering his breath and ignoring the sickening tightness in his gut, Ignis twisted and squirmed, fighting furiously with all his might against the freezing metal gauntlets holding his cheek, shoulders, back, and legs to the ground and groaning in pain as yet another pair of hands twisted his arms behind his back roughly, rendering him completely immobile and helpless. His entire body trembling with fatigue and terror, he summoned some spark of courage from somewhere deep within him as he did his best to grit his teeth against the rain falling into his eyes and glare up at his enemy.

The Chancellor. Ignis hadn't been terribly surprised to see him in his vision, as they'd only needed the proof to be certain that he was the embodiment of the darkness Noct would have to face. No—what had surprised him was that he had likely murdered Lady Lunafreya, leaving Noct untouched before taking off in his ship, and had now returned. But _why_ had he returned? To finish the job he'd started? Where had he gone? Something didn't add up, but despite all his best efforts to remain calm as the Chancellor loomed over him, he couldn't come up with any answer besides the fact screaming through his head: Noct was in grave danger.

Desperate for assistance, he lowered the wall in his mind to call the one person in the entire multiverse he knew without question would come running—not only because she was obligated to save Noct and preserve Time, but because Ignis knew in his heart that she would come if he asked, no matter what he did or felt toward her. He reached out, feeling for her mind lost somewhere among the streets of Altissia.

Pain. She was mad with it. He couldn't see properly through the blurry haze of tears in her eyes, but he could feel her very skin lit with streaks of burning fire—down her arms and legs, across her back, over her ribs—and she was letting it fuel the agony in her hearts as her hands slapped around the helm of a man and snatched his chin to the side, snapping his neck in two and nearly ripping it clean from his shoulders. As the corpse dropped to her feet and she registered his return, she froze, the physical and emotional agony vanishing instantly from his sight as she waited warily for him to speak.

 _Laura. Noct's in trouble and I can't get to him. He needs your help._

 _I'm coming._

His view of the Chancellor's sneering face was blocked by the black sole of a heavy boot fast approaching his face. "The game's up my boy," he heard the Chancellor croon before darkness consumed him for the second time that day.

He could feel her frantic thoughts as she raced through the city streets, the edges of the world turning gold as buildings whipped by faster than he could discern them. Rose? Laurelín? Beloved wife or betrayer of trust? But no, he had told himself less than two weeks ago that duty must always come first, had he not? Duty to the world, to time, over even Noct, over even King Regis those two days he'd been sent back to Insomnia. How could he possibly hate her for adhering to the very same standards to which he applied himself? Sorrow. Remorse. Regret. Forgiveness. So many thoughts and emotions swirling disorganized in his disoriented head like a swift and treacherous river that he wasn't certain whose emotions were whose.

He had been in the middle of something rather important, hadn't he? But he was so very tired. It felt as though he were being pulled under, and as much as he wanted to surrender to the inky blackness of rest, there was something he was supposed to be doing—if only he could remember what it was.

Laura seemed to pull at the threads of his consciousness, gathering them together and yanking hard.

 _Fight! Stay awake!_ she snarled. _Don't give up!_

He gasped and opened his eyes, his blurry vision slowly coming into focus on the Chancellor squatting over him, a wicked smile painted across his tilted face. Something thicker than rain was sliding into his right eye, down the bridge of his nose, and over his lower lip, and a vague sort of numb pain seemed to pulsate from those general areas of his face. As he turned his head to meet the Chancellor's eyes, he realized his face felt too light. Of course, his glasses had been stomped on, likely shattering and burying the shards of glass into his skin.

"Come now," the Chancellor said softly, toying with the point of a dagger—not quite a threat just yet, but a suggestion. "Why not follow your liege's lead and stop resisting?"

Grunting with effort against the hands that held him fast to the ground, he managed to eject, "Never!"

"You risked life and limb to safeguard the 'King of Kings,' only to witness him fail so spectacularly," the Chancellor sighed, standing to take a couple of swaggering steps to Noct before kneeling at his head. "You must be so disappointed. I know I am."

"Un—hand him!" Ignis spat, but his threatening tone had no teeth behind it, bound impotent as he was.

"Oh, what good is a world that only ever lets you down? Why not end it all right here?"

Gently lifting Noct's head from the stone by the back of his neck, the Chancellor raised the dagger high above Noct's chest, poised to strike, and what seemed every vision Ignis had had since he was a boy flashed in his mind's eye in that moment—every solitary assassination attempt he had dreamed up as he lay alone in the quiet night. But he'd never been paralyzed like this—completely immobile and helpless. Where was Laura? Had it really only been a minute or so since he'd called to her? Desperation and terror clawed its way up from his guts to his throat.

"No . . . you can't! Noooooooct!"

 _I'm coming as fast as I can. I'm close._

A metallic thunk interrupted his howl, cutting it off as his dagger, which had been previously buried in Ravus's arm, buried itself in the stone next to him. The Chancellor squinted at it, tilting his head for a moment as he slowly lowered his striking hand.

Whipping his head to Ravus, the Chancellor mused, "My, you two certainly have become fast friends." Ignis let out a huff of a breath as the Chancellor dropped Noct's unconscious body and sauntered to where Ravus stood with teeth and fists clenched.

But Ignis had stopped paying attention to Ravus and the Chancellor, because as Noct's limp hand flopped to the floor and his fingers loosened, a tinkle and clink had danced teasingly across Ignis's ears, and that gunmetal grey ring he'd seen on the hand of the King his entire life bounced mere feet from his face. That image of the Lucii on the crest, holding the crystal core of a rayed sun, seemed to whisper to him. _Use me. Save him._

So, this was how he would die. He was about to put on the Ring and forge a contract with the very entities that had helped bring them to this accursed moment, and as he wasn't of royal blood, they would no doubt take his life in payment. It would be a price he would pay gladly if it meant seeing Noct, seeing the world, safe.

Laura was still an option, however; even now he could feel her presence, her aura growing ever closer. The Ring would certainly be a last resort, but he needed it in his hands if it were to even be considered a tool in his arsenal. Summoning blades would be of little use, as his hands were still pinned to his back. He called on his bonds with the Crystal, attempting to bring to life the sparking lightning that could electrocute those holding his hands down, but he'd surrendered too much of himself in the fight against Ravus and every other battle he'd endured today to produce more than a spark.

Astrals, he was so exhausted. Even in his current state of peril, he was fighting to keep his eyes open. Distantly, he noted that he was running out of time to take advantage of Ravus's distraction. The Chancellor had raised a fist, vicious purple and black miasma pouring off his hand like rolling fog, and thrust it into Ravus's chest, sending the High Commander flying back and slamming into the column behind him.

Ignis was about to attempt another round of slamming his body against the stone to twist out of the soldiers' grip when Laura snapped at him, _By the light of all the stars, stop._

She slammed to the ground hard, going down on one knee to soften the blow, between Ardyn and Noct.

 _Free me first; I can help,_ he said to her. There was still so much more he needed to say to her, so much more she still needed to say to him, but even if one or both of them died in the next few moments, they had run out of time.

 _Of course. I only ask you don't commit suicide unless absolutely necessary. Forging a contract with the immortal that loves you, at least, will spare your life._

Attempting to blink away the blood dripping into his eye, he caught sight of her as she turned toward him, pausing only just long enough to place a web of glittering protection around Noct's body.

And he didn't recognize her.

Frigid blue fire seemed to emanate from her baleful eyes, glaring coldly feral from a death mask made of spatters of her crystalline blood and the deep red of those she'd slain since he'd last laid eyes on her. Her bodysuit was in tatters, nearly dripping with that pearlescent crimson as the rain made a halfhearted attempt to wash her clean. Even her hair, which seemed to have long ago lost its clip, was hanging loose and soaked in blood and water.

A split second before she warped in his direction in a silhouette of blue, intent on bowling through the man holding Ignis's face to the ground, Ignis saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The Chancellor had finished with Ravus and was raising a miasmic hand, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face as he sent the purple-black ball of flame in the direction of the soldier for which she was aiming.

 _Behind you!_ Ignis warned as she appeared again in a whoosh, but oh _gods_ he felt it as it hit her. She'd had no time to recover from the warp as the spell carried her momentum past Ignis's prone body, through the soldier, and face first into the column behind him.

And then he felt nothing.

It was though someone had reached into his head and clawed her golden thread from his protesting brain, leaving behind a torn and bloodied chasm of aching emptiness, loneliness, pain, death—oh the agony in his head threatened to consume him as dark spots swam in his vision, but he bit into his lip, drawing more blood from his wound in an effort to keep himself from drowning in the loss. She was _gone_. Had the Chancellor killed her? It was as though he couldn't gain purchase on his existence any longer; he was slipping in the dark, reaching out, but all he found was anguish and nausea.

 _Rose!_ he screamed into the void, but all he heard was the echo of his own panic.

With slow, exaggerated steps, the Chancellor sashayed toward them, flicking a casual hand against Noct's shield with a soft-spoken, "How interesting."

Convinced that Noct was no longer the focus of this play, Ignis was able to flip his head to see her, refusing to believe that she was . . . no, she simply couldn't be.

She lay cheek-down on the ground, her expression slack and her eyes half-lidded and vacant, and Ignis's mind simply stopped for a moment, not even attempting to comprehend what her appearance and the state of his head implied.

"Well, well, well," Ardyn sang as he approached her prone form, giving her a swift kick to the ribs to roll her over onto her back. "If it isn't our dear Prince's most special retainer. I was so hoping you would make an appearance, and what an appearance it was! A sanguine beauty indeed."

He crouched down by her head, running a gentle finger over the curve of her cheek, and Ignis raised his head high, slamming it against the stone in an effort to build enough momentum to shake off the hands still holding him, to no avail.

"What's the matter?" he purred, smearing the blood on her cheek down to her chin with a fingertip. "No pretty words for me this evening?"

"Don't touch her!" Ignis snarled, still struggling against his captors.

"Now now, no struggling from you. It may be too late for the two of you, but I might be amenable to sparing your beloved Noctis—if you behave."

Laura gasped a deep breath in a groaning shudder, her back arching off the ground as she inhaled. The Chancellor made no move to stop her as she turned to her side, bracing herself as she gagged and convulsed.

Ignis could still barely see past the roaring pain and emptiness in his head, but she was _alive_ at least. However, the relief that pulsed through him at the thought allowed him to fully register the Chancellor's words, wiping it away only to be replaced with dread as he finally realized why the Chancellor had returned to the altar.

Oh, gods, what had he done?

This had never been about Noct; the Chancellor had already left him here untouched once today. He'd been helping the group along because he needed something from them—the blessings of the gods, perhaps? Noct's reunion with the Crystal? Some other act that would set the prophecy in motion? It didn't matter in this moment what he needed, because whatever it was, it guaranteed Noct's safety.

This entire scene, from the moment the Chancellor had appeared on the altar as Gladio, had been a charade—a ruse to lure Laura here, perhaps even to taunt Ignis into becoming desperate enough to use the Ring and kill himself. _This_ was why he'd come back to the altar. And Ignis had fallen for it—called her here—desperate to protect his liege and unknowingly delivering her to the most dangerous creature on Eos.

It seemed betrayal was their theme today, though hers hadn't directly resulted in the loss of life as his had, only a gross withholding of information. Ignis may as well have driven the steel into her hearts himself.

The Chancellor turned his head toward Ignis, a slow, beatific smile spreading wide over his lips. "I think it's time we tell him the truth, don't you? Tell your dear friend that you've known all along who and what I am?" His hand moved to her hair, stroking gently as though she were a docile, beloved pet.

Why was she so still?

"How you all have suffered so on this ordained expedition of yours, grasping as blinded beggars, reaching out for a goal hidden deliberately from your view by her—" he looked down tenderly at her still slack face, "—and her siblings. That cold heart of hers could have wiped away your ignorance and adversity with a wave of a hand."

While his words weren't entirely untrue, Ignis was already aware of the reasons why she hadn't. She'd volunteered for this mission altruistically because she'd wanted to help, and in return, she'd only received the iron mantle of forbidden knowledge and scorn. "Whatever your quarrel with the Six, you're mistaken. She is _not_ Shiva. She has nothing to do with _any_ of her go!"

"Ignorant whelp!" the Chancellor growled, the mischievous persona dropping from his visage and tone as he whipped a hand behind him, grasped Laura's throat, and dragged her bodily to Ignis's face.

 _Rose,_ he mouthed as her deadened eyes met his, but she made no indication that she'd seen or heard him.

"Even if you're too insensate to feel her aura . . .. _Look_ at her—the igor of a goddess—her very veins run through with ice!" He shook her by the throat in frustration, slapping her skull against the stone as her neck flopped like a rag doll.

Ignis closed his eyes, blocking out the sight until the thudding ceased. As it was, it was only her hoarse whisper that made it worth it to open them to her expressionless face again—until he registered her words.

"Don't say another word. It's too late."

"Indeed it is!" the Chancellor crowed, rising to his feet and pulling her up by the throat along with him. He scoffed, looking down his nose at Ignis. "'Shiva, the Glacian, gentle as snow.' You mortals are disappointingly dense. Winter is frigid, biting, deadly—or she _was_. Not going to bite me now, are you, my dear?"

Bringing the hand that wasn't around her throat to her cheek in a grotesque mockery of a loving caress, he murmured, "So very beautiful—full of gold and ice and fire." He dug his fingertips deeper into her skin. "Let us speed things along, shall we? We could be here for weeks at this rate, and I'm certain you're most eager to join your husband in my thrall."

 _No, no, gods, please,_ Ignis thought to himself as a dark web of veins spread across her face and down her neck. He'd infected her, and she wasn't immune, clearly.

And for the second time that day, Ignis realized that he had been wrong about the foundations of his relationship with her. He'd married her believing he could keep his love and devotion for her completely separate from the rest of his life, and how foolish and naïve was he to believe he could compartmentalize something so all-consuming? He would gladly lay down and die right now to save her life if it weren't for his duty to Noct. Doomed to die or not, his brother still had a difficult journey ahead of him that Ignis needed to be present for. But assuming he lived through this, he was going to be half a man for the rest of his life—half of even what he'd been before meeting her.

Because he saw it now; the Chancellor was going to use her to kill him—unless he could somehow kill her first.

But surely, she must have some measure of defense? _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus,_ she had said. 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon,' and he knew the meaning of that all too well after having met Eilendil. There was always the possibility that she would regenerate, and by the gods, he'd never thought he'd wish for her to become another person so desperately—at least then he wouldn't have killed her permanently, merely this body. But what if she regenerated without healing? Would he have to endure killing all thirteen of her bodies before she finally succumbed to death?

Even thinking of it ripped at his soul.

His thoughts turned briefly to the Ring behind him. He would need something to burn his soul away in order to make this possible, but even with the Power of Kings at his hands, the chances that he could defeat her were slim. He doubted the gods would grant the Old Kings a weapon with the power to defeat them, and she was just as powerful as the Six. The Old Kings might not have even granted him the power, as Noct wasn't currently directly in harm's way because of her. Ignis would have to rely on her strength of mind to fight the scourge enough—to allow him to do what must be done.

The inky blackness had spread to her sclera now and had turned her sapphire irises to a muddy brown. Sticky, heavy waves of ink dripped from her eyes like putrid tears and gushed from her nostrils. It couldn't end like this. His last personal words to her had been flung at her in irrational, misplaced hatred. She couldn't die thinking he'd meant them.

It was as though she'd heard his thoughts and responded. " _Ithīr,"_ she whimpered in shuddering sobs, thick black tears rolling down her pale cheeks and hitting the stone at her toes brushing the ground. _"Tye méla. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me."_

That terror and pain in her voice tore at the protector and healer in him, the husband in him. He'd so recently held those cheeks between his palms and declared his undying love for her. How had it all gone so wrong so quickly? He recognized some of the words from her bonding vows, and despite the risk, he had to send some message back to her—even if the Chancellor heard it. She couldn't die thinking he'd turned on her, and she needed some message to let her know that he would keep fighting if she did. He couldn't risk repeating the words back to her; they would sound too much like a vow of love, so he whispered the one word he was familiar with that he thought represented the same sentiment, praying that her acute hearing would pick it up over the sound of her gasps, the rain slapping on the stone, and his own heart shattering.

" _Oialë."_ _Forever, Rose. I forgive you. Please, forgive me. Please, don't go._

 _"Sorry?" the Chancellor asked in a dangerously low voice, his lip curling in a snarl as his fingers tightened around her throat. "You_ curse me to heal the land of your scourge, allow it to consume me, then toss me aside for two millennia, and you're _sorry_?! _Yes, my dear one, you_ _will_ _be sorry."_

Laura's mouth fell open in a silent scream, the oily black scourge frothing from her lips, dripping down her chin and throat before writhing like a living serpent wrapping itself around her chest. She seemed to have lost the will to fight, however, as she convulsed limply in violent shudders between Ardyn's hands.

"That's it . . .," the Chancellor cooed. "Just let go." Removing the hand that wasn't around her throat to brush the knotted, soaking hair back from her face, he murmured, "So alluring, so very delicate, but a clever disguise for all that power, yes? What a stunning daemon you'll make for me to toy with, and just imagine how much pleasure I'll take from you! Can you imagine how heartbroken the dear little Prince will be when I use you to kill his precious advisor?"

 _Laura seemed to be trying to say something, her mouth opening and closing like a gasping fish as she continued retching against the flood of scourge pouring from her mouth. With a tilt of the head, the Chancellor stopped the flow from her lips. "Well, go ahead, my dear. I'll allow you a final word."_

She took in a deep, hitching breath. "Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray," she choked on a rushed exhale. "Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

 _A message. One last message, and Ignis understood. Likely one of her allusions, it meant she was still there, and she wasn't going down without a fight—neither should he. But she would be going down; for all she would rage against it, the light would die. And it had been entirely his fault._

 _Taking a moment to sneer at Ignis, the Chancellor leaned in and pushed his lips against hers, a flood of miasma just barely visible as his mouth moved over hers. Ignis couldn't help but take a moment to nurse that niggling doubt in the back of his mind as Laura's hands moved to cup the sides of the Chancellor's head, and his vision clouded over in tears, mixing with the rainwater and gooey coagulation over his eye before falling to the altar he could soon be sacrificed on. Had he already taken control of her mind? Selfish as it was, the only thought stabbing through his torn and emptied mind was that if she failed, they would die alone; they wouldn't even have the comfort of each other's minds in the end._

He could just make out her outline as she ripped her mouth away from the Chancellor's and let out a high, clear, animalistic scream. Seemingly everlasting and radiating with her silver and gold power, it was a primal sound that rocked Ignis down to his bones. Streams of silver and gold light poured from her claws, now digging into the sides of the Chancellor's face, and in contrast to Laura's grotesque visage, that purity poured from the Chancellor's eyes, nose, and mouth in a brilliant ray of incandescence.

Both mouths open wide and screaming, the cacophony built until the Chancellor's body exploded in a shower of stars.

The last thing Ignis saw before he felt a blow to the back of his head was his beloved wife, her infected eyes rolling up in her head as she fell on the stone next to his unconscious brother.


	54. Chapter 54

**Author's Note:**

Warning: Angst. There's going to be angst for a bit. Also, possible character death.

* * *

The slapping and pounding of his feet through puddles and over the stone was all Prompto could hear as he followed behind Gladio, finally reaching the walkway that would lead them to the altar. He was surprised he still had anything left at all in him to run, soaked, chafed, and exhausted as he was; he felt disconnected from his feet as though they were being controlled by someone else, as though his body were being driven by nothing but terror alone. They'd been through hell these past several hours, meeting wave after wave of imperial troops with nothing but Gladio's sword and his gravity well plus, and to say that he was about to drop would be the understatement of the century.

He'd thought he was gonna die when they'd been cornered in that flower shop with ten civilians, surrounded by three platoons of soldiers intent on ripping them to shreds. As it was, they'd lost half the people hiding behind them in the bloody assault, with no break in the incoming fire to even get back to where they were trying to take cover and revive them. Prompto had died twice already and Gladio once, and while the rush from the phoenix downs they'd taken quickened his reflexes and steeled his nerve, they both knew they'd be fucked if they happened to both die at the same time.

After what felt like forever, it had seemed like the number of shots into the building started decreasing quickly—a little too quickly for how much headway he was making with sucking a few of the soldiers inside at a time and having Gladio finish them off—when Laura sauntered in, that sunny bright smile plastered on her face as she dripped with red and pearly blood.

"Hiya guys! Man, this place sucks! Didja miss me?"

Prompto knew that smile; it was the same one he'd glue to his own lips when he felt like shit, the same one he was beaming back at her.

Things got better with the three of them together until they'd managed to jump their way over what was left of the bridge to the Finangia District and fight their way toward Padore. Prompto couldn't tell what had caused the sudden change, but Laura had lost her fucking mind. She hadn't started babbling like she had on Ravatogh; she'd gone wild, leaping at entire squads of soldiers without even summoning a weapon and ripping them apart with her bare hands before warping to the next, tears in her eyes and an inhuman look of fury on her face. Prompto had always known that potential was in there; he'd seen it in her eyes every time she fought daemons, but being so close while it happened made _him_ a little scared every time she got near him. Even Gladio had tried to lighten her up a little with a "Steady on there, Princess," but she acted like she hadn't even heard him.

It was when she'd suddenly frozen in the middle of the Padore District and looked toward the altar, saying in a calm, cold voice, "They're in trouble. Follow as fast as you can," before taking off in a whirl of gold that Prompto really began to get scared. They'd long ago lost contact with Noct and Iggy, so the fact that she could feel something like that with her mind from that far away could only mean really, really bad things.

Just like the fact that he could now see Ravus being held by imperial soldiers, two unguarded heaps on the ground, and a third heap getting hit in the back of the head with the butt of a rifle was probably the worst bad thing Prompto could have envisioned.

With a roar, Gladio summoned his greatsword and leapt at the soldier intent on bashing Iggy's head in again, and Prompto set to work on the five soldiers holding Ravus down, aiming for the thinner metal of the face mesh to pierce their armor better. After Prompto had taken two down, Ravus seemed to recover from whatever daze he'd been in, as he stood to take care of the other three himself, freeing Prompto up to help Gladio with the . . . six? Had it really taken six grown men to hold Iggy down?

Prompto's hands trembled in front of him as he dismissed his pistols, frozen in indecision as to who to go to first as he looked between the three of them. And _oh_ , sweet Six.

Laura.

Catching Gladio's gaze on her black-stained face, he knew it wasn't a hallucination. She'd been infected with Starscourge, which meant that Ardyn was somewhere nearby. Were they safe? Probably not. They needed to get out of there quick, and there was nothing Prompto could do for her. But there was still Iggy and Noct to take care of—something he could do to make himself useful.

But he couldn't get to Noct. As Gladio knelt down in front of Iggy, flipping him over and feeling for a pulse at his neck before spreading his hand wide over his chest, Prompto fell to his knees as close as he could get to Noct, pushing at the glittering web of magic with his fingers. He'd never actually touched a Glaive shield before, and he was surprised to find it warm and humming with energy, making his hand tingle with the vibration. Pushing harder against the shimmering wall, however, made it all too clear that they weren't going to get anywhere near Noct until they'd gotten that shield out of the way.

"His health is sound," Ravus said from above him, and Prompto looked up to see a thoughtful expression in his cold, blue-gray eyes before they shifted over to Laura's body. "The shield will dissipate when you've killed the girl."

"Uhh . . . right," Prompto said with a grimace. A yawning hole of heartbreak opened up in his chest at Ravus's words and threatened to bring tears to his eyes, but he couldn't cry like some little kid in front of the High Commander. Deep down, he'd known the second he saw her what they'd have to do, but he'd been trying not to think about it. He only hoped Gladio would be better at facing this hardened soldier shit than him, cause there was no way he'd be able to just . . . kill her when the time came.

Ravus turned to lean over Iggy, inspecting him closely as Gladio cracked a hi-potion over his chest. "Exhaustion," Ravus said with a sharp nod when Iggy didn't stir. Even the cuts on his face didn't heal all the way as the magic cleared from his body. How long had it been since he was injured? How bad was his exhaustion that a potion wouldn't work right on him? "He'll be all right."

Without another word, Ravus straightened and began striding back toward the city. "Wait," Prompto called after him. "Where're you going?" Was he really not going to tell them any more than that?

He turned back just long enough to say, "I've a calling to fulfill. As do you. May fortune favor us all." After a brief pause, he looked down to where Noct lay still on the stone, his wet, slack face glowing blue in the light of Laura's web. "And you as well, Noctis." With a final sweep of his eyes over the gruesome scene, he spun on his heel and stalked away.

Gladio heaved a sigh and stood, walking with slow, heavy steps to where Laura lay still a few feet away. Prompto scrambled to his feet, following after him. He wasn't just gonna . . . do it right here and now, was he?

"Isn't there something we can do?" Prompto asked, panic beginning to tighten his chest and make his voice come out high-pitched in that way he'd always hated, but sounding cool was the last thing on his mind right now.

Gladio summoned his sword and hefted it over his shoulder, looking down at Laura with his face scrunched and nostrils flared in pain. Inhaling deeply, he raised his eyes to the sky, and Prompto could've sworn he saw tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It was hard to tell, since Prompto's own vision had grown blurry.

"Fuck," Gladio groaned. "We know exactly what we gotta do. She told us herself back with that guy. I just . . . I just dunno if I can do it and ever look Iggy in the face again."

"I can't believe this is happening," Prompto sniffled. "She was s'posed to be indestructible."

Gladio rubbed at his eyes before grasping the hilt of his sword tightly with both hands. "We gotta protect the people," he said under his breath as though steeling himself.

Laura's terrifying eyes snapped open—black and piercing and dripping—and he jumped back, yelping in shock at the suddenness of the movement and the fact that he was standing close enough for her to grab him. As quick as Ramuh, Gladio heaved his blade off his shoulder and swung it in an arc over his head, down to Laura's neck.

"Gladio, wait!"

Damn, there was still something of her mind left; they should've waited to see if Iggy would wake up so they could at least say goodbye to each other. But Prompto knew from trying to lift Gladio's sword himself in the past that there was no way he could stop the swing he'd started, even if he wanted to.

"Fuck!" Gladio roared, bending over with the effort to change the path of the arc. It still looked to Prompto like he'd cut the top of her head off as the blade clanged against the paving stones, but Laura only shuddered violently, releasing a stream of oily black tears into her bloody hair as she closed her eyes.

"Laura!" Prompto cried, flinging himself to his knees at her side, but she recoiled from his closeness.

"Don't touch," she choked, her ink-and-mud eyes darting between his and Gladio's. Prompto looked up to see that Gladio had stepped closer to her head to hear her words, but he still had his sword positioned to strike, ready to take her out at the first sign of transformation.

"Hey, we need you to remove the shield on Noct. Can you do that?" Gladio asked, his voice gentle and cracking.

Prompto jumped back again as her head lolled in his direction, but those sickly mud-brown irises focused on Noct as her eyelashes fluttered, and the web of protection around Noct flickered and disappeared.

"Healing," she sighed up at Gladio. "Please . . .," she paused, choking up a thick stream of black scourge before groaning, "tell Ignis . . .."

But for as much as she seemed to want to finish what she was saying, she let out her breath in a whoosh of air as her eyes fell closed. Prompto waited for something to happen—for her to move, for her to transform, for Gladio to do something. What could they do? It wasn't like a potion could cure her, even if she could take one.

"She said 'healing,' so that means we don't have to kill her, right?" Prompto asked, leaning in a little closer to inspect the black handprint on her face for signs of it going away.

Gladio rubbed a hand over his face wearily, spreading the dust and blood in finger-shaped smears over his face. "Gods damnit. I dunno. She can do a lotta weird alien shit, but this? We'd have to trust she's not gonna change into a daemon and kill us all. And it doesn't even look like she's breathing anymore."

Prompto whipped his head back down to see that Gladio was right—she was completely still, her chest not even rising and falling with breaths. That was a bad sign. Did daemons breathe? As many times as he'd been in battle with them, he couldn't really say he'd ever taken the time to notice. But if she wasn't transforming or disappearing or whatever, that had to mean she was dead, right? That feeling of panic and loss was threatening to overwhelm him again in a way it hadn't since Insomnia, but he was so damn tired and sick, it was like numbness was also fighting for dominance in his head. There was no way he was gonna come up with a plan—that was always Iggy's thing, so he looked up to Gladio.

"So what're we gonna do now?"

Gladio turned to face the path that led back to the Pitra District, seeming to look for something. As a section of Accordion soldiers picked their way over piles of rubble toward them, Gladio muttered, "We call in some reinforcements."

Inserting a thumb and forefinger into the corners of his lips, he blew hard, emitting a shrill whistle that Prompto had always been jealous of, which immediately caught the attention of the six soldiers and sent them scurrying faster in their direction.

"Sir!" they all barked simultaneously when they'd reached the altar, standing at attention.

"You," Gladio said, nodding to the closest soldier. "Report." At his words, that heartbreak swelled in Prompto's chest again, remembering Laura saying the very same thing in the very same tone just a few hours ago. It had been as much of a shock to hear her say it then as it was for Gladio to be saying it like that now, but he guessed they were all soldiers now in this war they didn't want to be a part of.

"Imperial forces have withdrawn, sir. We've been placed on search, rescue, and cleanup."

"The Leville still standing?"

"Yes, sir. All bridges in Altissia have been targeted and destroyed, but most infrastructural damage was concentrated on this isle alone."

"You got a boat?"

"It's how we got here, sir."

"Okay, you see those two men over there?" he asked, pointing to where Noct and Iggy lay on the stone. "They both just saved your asses, and as much as I would love to be the one to take 'em back myself, I gotta take care of some stuff. So you guys and Prompto here are gonna have to do it." He paused for a moment, seeming to grow taller as he stood over the soldier. "You fail me? I'm gonna have to track you down and take care of _you_ myself. Got it?"

As the soldier's eyes hardened into resolve and he nodded, Prompto hoped that he could one day be able to just take charge like that. Even if he was technically Crownsguard, with more training and battle experience than even an Accordion commander, he was still only a private. But if he'd learned anything today working with the lost and terrified soldiers, it was that command was mostly about looking like he knew what the hell he was doing, of giving the appearance of confidence.

It was a skill Prompto had perfected since he was a kid.

"Yeah, you guys with me. You carry them while I cover you," he said, rising to his feet, puffing his chest out, and standing tall.

"Yes, sir!" they barked in unison, and Prompto had to frown just to cover up the self-satisfied smile that wanted to cross his face. But then he looked down at Laura again, frail and helpless and _dead_ , and the reality of their situation came crashing back down on him.

"What are you gonna do?" he asked Gladio quietly.

"Got the thermal suit I can use to carry her. Gonna take her somewhere safe, but I gotta get on the horn with Claustra to see where that'll be. Get 'em settled in the hotel and keep guard. I'll join you when I secure her."

"So you're not gonna kill her?"

"She's already dead, from the looks of it," Gladio said with a sigh. "But if I can make her safe, we can keep her body around and see if she performs one of her crazy ass miracles."

"Here's hoping," he said softly.

He'd been 'the new guy' in the group, the last one to really get to know them all five years ago when he'd finally worked up the courage to approach Noct, until Laura joined them. She'd given him a sense of seniority, a sense that his opinion and approval mattered. She'd become like a sister to him, even if they'd only known her . . . damn, had it only been two and a half months? It felt more like two and a half decades. And Iggy . . . Six, this was gonna kill him. Prompto sure hoped he already kinda knew what had happened to her, because if Iggy woke up while Gladio was gone, Prompto sure didn't wanna have to be the one to tell him his girlfriend was either dead or a dead daemon.

Prompto kept his pistols drawn the entire boat ride back to the Leville, the whine of the little engine through the debris-filled waters the only sound in the deserted, smoking city. It felt weird seeing the now-familiar sight of charred remnants of bridges and rubble in the part of the city they'd spent most of their time in. But beyond all the street decorations and furniture being missing and some chunks of buildings from when Leviathan had done her suction tornado thing, everything was quiet, untouched. He could almost pretend they'd just gone through a really bad storm, if it weren't for the memories and his paranoid trigger fingers.

It felt like he didn't even take a breath until Iggy and Noct were safely placed on one of the beds in their suite, and even then, Prompto thought he'd heard a thousand mysterious bangs and thuds as he took a shower, washing the grime and blood and guts from his skin and wishing the entire time he could do the same to his memory as he finally let go and sobbed silently into the cool shower tiles. He cried for how indescribably shitty today had been, for his own lost innocence, for whatever Iggy and Noct had gone through to make them like this, and especially for Laura. He'd had to put a lid on his grief twice in those fifteen minutes to wrap a towel around himself and double check that the door to the suite was still locked and Iggy and Noct were still okay. His eyes swollen, his face hot, and his skin nearly scrubbed raw, he sure as fuck didn't feel very clean as he got dressed in his PJs.

He wished Gladio was there—he'd feel a lot more settled having backup. No one ever left him in charge of anything, and it felt weird being the one to watch over both Noct and Iggy, two of his own family that were way more powerful and talented than he was. And seeing them helpless like this as he took off their boots and socks—it was like having the lives of his brothers and heroes in his hands. No matter what, he couldn't, wouldn't let them down.

He hesitated for a moment when it came time to take off their clothes. He'd seen Noct undressed a thousand times in the locker rooms after P.E. in school, but it still felt like kind of a violation to do it himself while Noct was unconscious. And Iggy . . . the first time he'd seen any of Iggy's bare skin besides his arms and feet was when he'd climbed up onto the boat in nothing but his swim shorts. Not only did he always consider Iggy way less approachable than Noct, Iggy was always just so _proper,_ so put together, so covered.

But they were wet, completely filthy, and probably cold, and Prompto _had_ to do something for them. Iggy especially would hate being in bed filthy like this.

He started with Noct first, doing his best to dry him off and not really focus on anything as he redressed him. Iggy, of course, took longer, since he was a freaking mess. It was as he'd wrestled the upper half of Iggy's body forward and was pulling a t-shirt over his head that Prompto felt two hands fist themselves in his shirt.

"Noct!" Iggy gasped.

"Iggy! I'm so sorry! You were wet and dirty and I didn't think you'd wanna be in bed like tha—"

"Where's Noct?"

"He's right next to you. He's gonna be okay."

"The bridge," Iggy said in a strangled voice, burying his face into Prompto's chest. "The bridge is _gone_. Oh, gods, it's been ripped away, and it's so dark—so dark and cold. All my fault, all my fault."

Prompto patted him gently on the back as Iggy clutched desperately at his shirt. It started to hurt a little when Iggy moved his hands to grip Prompto's arms—the blunt tips of his fingers digging desperately into his skin—so he pulled himself free as gently as he could, pushing Iggy to lie back on the bed. The expression on his face was one Prompto had never dreamed him capable of—wild with sickly green, darting eyes and waxy pale face. He looked insane.

"It's okay, Iggy. You survived the bridge, remember?" Prompto said, summoning Laura's blanket to put over him. Maybe, he'd calm down, stop whipping his head back and forth and rubbing his face, if Prompto could just get him warm and comfortable.

"I survived. I'll always survive to do my duty, but _Astrals_ , how will I live? The dawn has set, and the light of the stars is not enough to see by." His voice grew louder as he began thrashing on the bed, panting and tearing at his hair. "I wielded the blade that slaughtered the sun for shining, ripped the petals from the rose for pricking myself on her thorns. I deserve no less than to be cast out, forever the bane of the goddess, the harbinger of death!"

"Iggy . . . please. Stop," Prompto pleaded, his lip trembling at the thought of the anguish he must be in to act like this—what he must've gone through today—and it was only gonna get worse from here. He had no idea what Iggy meant by his words, but this hopeless agony could only be about Laura.

"The first test of my honor, and I . . .. Soiled and stained, cursed and defiled, blighted! Betrayer! Oath breaker!"

There was nothing for it; he seemed to be getting worse the longer he was awake. Doing his best to hold Iggy down with one hand, Prompto summoned a syringe of sedative with his other. He'd never actually given anyone a shot before, especially thrashing around like Iggy was, but as he jammed the needle into Iggy's thigh and pressed the plunger, it only took a few seconds for Prompto to know he'd done it right. Iggy's flailing grew clumsy and slow before he finally stilled and closed his eyes.

"Just rest," Prompto whispered. "Noct's okay. You're gonna be okay."

Hopefully, he'd have some better news to tell him about Laura when he woke up again. Fuck, what the hell happened on that altar? They hadn't even heard anything about Lunafreya yet. Could it be both her and Laura Iggy was freaking out about?

"Duty first. Dark and cold, my fault," Iggy whimpered before sighing and going limp.

There wasn't much to do after he'd wrestled the two of them under the covers, taking extra time to rub Iggy's arms to generate some friction. He sat at the desk, watching the moonlight shine down on the curling tendrils of smoke rising from the isle where it all had happened and trying really hard not to think of the day he'd stood on the overlook and watched his home burn.

His home. There was no doubt about it now; he was Lucian, and he'd fought in the battle to prove it. After everything they'd all been through together and seeing how surprised the other guys were to find out that Insomnia wasn't exactly friendly to outsiders, Prompto had been considering just getting it over with and telling them he'd been born in Niflheim. There was still the slim chance they'd think him a traitor, but hell, after he'd seen how Noct and Iggy had been with Aranea, he was starting think they'd give anyone decent a chance. Prompto would never be great—it was just a fact of his life—but he could do decent, at least.

But he shoulda told them before all this happened, when they were all safe and together and alive. No one was gonna wanna hear about his shit now, with Noct recovering from his ordeal and Iggy losing his mind. And then Laura . . . he was still holding out hope for her, but if she really did die, it would gut them all.

All those dark thoughts were still swimming in his head when he heard the lock jiggle behind him, jarring him from the silence of the hotel room. Prompto flung himself behind the armchair, summoning a random gun to point a shaking, exhausted hand at the door, but he immediately dismissed it with a sigh when he saw Gladio's bulk shuffling in. Gladio froze when he spotted Prompto, probably wondering why the hell he was crouched behind an armchair, but he seemed to figure it out and gave him an approving nod.

"How's Laura?" Prompto asked as Gladio staggered toward the bathroom door. He thought he knew the answer though, as Gladio turned on the bathroom light to reveal his puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

"Dead," Gladio replied in a tone that matched his response. "Once we got her settled, got a stethoscope and shit. No heartbeat, or heartbeats, or whatever; no blood pressure; no respiration. She's gone."

"Umm . . .," he began as he looked up to the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from falling again. They seemed to come automatically, as he didn't really feel anything besides a shocked numbness of denial. "Where is she?"

"Took some convincing," Gladio said, removing his jacket and tossing it on the floor. "The Secretary wanted to execute her. Might've had to make up some birdshit story about her being ordained by the gods to assist the Chosen King of Light to defeat the heart of darkness and retain the Orb of Bemusement, or something, but I got her locked and chained in the lowest level of the prison."

"She's in Stonecage?" Prompto asked in horror.

Prompto didn't know a lot about foreign countries, but _everyone_ knew about Stonecage. It was featured in every TV show about prison, used as a threat to every kid who did something bad—it was even in the title of the third book of a famous magical book series—Hirtus Plastes and the Prisoner of Stonecage. Buried deep in a high cliff island in the middle of the sea just off the city of Altissia, Stonecage was known as the highest-security prison on Eos for the worst criminals in the world. The thought of Laura chained in one of those vaults was . . . unthinkable.

"Safest place I could think of. She shouldn't be able to escape if she transforms."

Prompto shook his head in disbelief. "That's so awful."

He had to awkwardly look back toward the bedroom as Gladio dropped his pants and stepped into the shower. Even if Gladio didn't seem to care, Prompto would never get used to how casually he'd just strip down like that. He would've left him to shower in private, but Prompto really wanted to hear everything he had to say. There had to be _some_ good news about all this crap.

"Better than a beheading," Gladio said with a sigh as he turned the water on. "Easier on me too. Kept practicing what I was gonna tell Iggy the whole time I've been gone. He stir at all yet?"

"He . . . he did wake up," Prompto said in a small voice as steam and the scent of soap began filling the room, warming him a little. It felt like he'd been chilled ever since he'd gotten back to the hotel room, even during his own shower. "He was yelling for Noct and about bridges and roses—I have no idea. Tried to calm him down, but he'd lost it. I had to sedate him. I think I gave him enough to knock him out all night."

"Good, probably gonna be the only rest he gets for a while. You go ahead and get some sleep. I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay," he said reluctantly as he turned to head to the empty bed. After the events of the day, he wasn't really ready to be alone again, even if it was only for a minute or two. What the hell was wrong with him? It wasn't like he was some kinda little kid or something. But he drew back the covers anyway and settled into the mattress, trying to get comfortable.

He'd wrestled with the images of blood and gore and death until they'd started fading into the background of his mind and was starting to doze when he heard Gladio's thumping feet on the carpet and the dip of the mattress as he crawled into the bed. As Gladio stilled, Prompto thought he heard a deep, shuddering sigh, but that couldn't be right, could it? As tired as they all were, Gladio was invincible—hadn't even shed a tear when Insomnia fell and his dad died. There'd been something different about today, though—something even more violent and bloody than the Fall, worse than all the bases they'd busted down, that had taken both Gladio and Iggy out.

"You okay?" Prompto asked, looking over to see the outline of Gladio's tense face in the dim light.

"Yeah. S'just . . . one word. We're basing this whole thing on her saying 'healing.' I sure hope we're doing the right thing."

"Yeah, but it's like . . . there's no risk now, right? With her locked up? Maybe Iggy'll know more when he wakes up." That was, if Iggy was back to normal when he woke up, but he didn't wanna add that part.

"I hope so," Gladio replied doubtfully, putting his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. "I'm usually good about putting this kinda shit behind me and doing what I need to do. But between you and me? I got nothin'. No plan."

Prompto would've rather not heard him admit that he was just as lost as Prompto was. It was like finding out his childhood heroes on TV were nothing more than regular, everyday people pretending to be something special just to get a paycheck. Fishing around in his brain to find something that would make Gladio feel better and maybe encourage him to be that hero for them all, he was able to find one comforting thought.

"Maybe we don't need a plan. Maybe we just need to wait." As much as he wanted to add that it had worked out like that for Laura these last seven thousand years, he thought that maybe it would be a bad time to bring it up just now.

"Yeah," he said on a sigh. "We'll see."

* * *

Something bright was shining in Prompto's eye—ugh. Was the sun up already? But as he took a deep breath and prepared to open his eyes, he thought he could smell something delicious on the air, like Iggy'd gone all out for breakfast this morning—toast and miso soup, maybe even fish and rice. His eyes shot open when he realized he shouldn't be smelling any of these things, but he couldn't see a thing with the sun shining through a gap in the curtains and hitting him directly in the face. Bolting upright, his gaze immediately targeted a perfectly dressed and done-up Iggy placing a tray of steaming rice, fish, soup, toast, fruit, and seaweed salad on the coffee table in the parlor.

"Iggy!" Prompto cried out, leaping from the bed and nearly bowling him to the side to wrap his arms around him. "You're okay!"

But as Iggy gently removed his hands and turned back to the breakfast tray with a soft, "Yes, good morning," Prompto could plainly see there was nothing at all okay with Iggy. The scars on his eyebrow, nose, and lip were still angry and red, standing out viciously against his bone-white skin and sickly green eyes. Even his hands seemed to be trembling a little as he summoned the silverware and set it neatly on the tray with a gentle clinking sound.

"Iggy?" Gladio asked, stumbling up behind him and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Are there any projections for when Noct will awaken?" Iggy asked quietly, not looking up at them. "Magical exhaustion, am I correct?"

"Uh, yeah," Gladio said uncertainly, taken by surprise at Iggy's attitude. "Should be a day or two? Dunno exactly, but he'll be all right."

Iggy stared down at the tray, out of ways to make adjustments or fuss with it. "Good, good."

Gladio and Prompto shared a look, waiting for Iggy to say something more, but he'd fallen silent. After unnecessarily straightening the lapels of his jacket, he lightly picked up a glass of juice and strode into the bedroom. Gently coaxing Noct into a sitting position and letting his head rest against his shoulder, Iggy brought the glass to Noct's lips.

"Even more cooperative than when conscious," he murmured with a half-quirk of the lips, but his eyes still looked dead as he spoke. "This bodes well."

Prompto could hear Gladio's breathing slowly pick up as Iggy got Noct to drink down the entire glass before tucking him like a kid back into the blankets, pulling the covers back up to his shoulders.

"Well?" Gladio demanded when he'd returned to the parlor, irritation making his voice go all deep and rough in a way that always made Prompto a little nervous. "You even gonna ask about Laura?"

Iggy breathed in, deep and sharp, closing his eyes and curling his fingers into tight fists at his sides. "I'm certain you handled the situation as best you could. I . . . of course I wouldn't blame you for however you did it," he said calmly. "In fact, you have my sincerest gratitude."

"She's—" Gladio began, but Iggy interrupted him.

"I'd rather not . . . hear the details, for once in my life, please," he said in a low, pained voice. "If it is at all possible, however, to safely extricate her necklace, please let me know; it is . . . beyond precious."

"Fuck, Iggy, what the hell happened out there?!" Gladio spat, and Prompto couldn't blame him for his tone. They all knew Laura and Iggy expressed their relationship differently than everyone else, but seeing him concerned about a damn necklace when his girlfriend was dead—and he didn't even want to _know_ about it. He probably thought Gladio had just chopped off her head, and that was the end of it. It was what would've happened in any other situation. Granted, Prompto knew about her condition, and even he hated this fragile hope stabbing at his heart that she might pull off a miracle and come back to life. Maybe it was better this way if they didn't tell him until whatever was gonna happen happened.

Ignis still had his eyes closed and his head bowed in sorrow as he nearly whispered, "The Chancellor . . . killed Lady Lunafreya and," his voice cracked before he inhaled again, "well, you saw the rest." He took another deep breath, seeming to collect himself before nodding sharply down at the breakfast tray.

"Well, breakfast is served. Staff will be here any minute to bring us fresh sets of sheets; ours smell of wet dog." He turned to the desk, taking a seat and opening his laptop. "I'm afraid my mobile was ruined during the events yesterday, and I've been unable to reach the First Secretary on Prompto's comm. I imagine the two of you will be out and about assisting today, so if you would please inform her that she can reach me here at the hotel until I manage to obtain a new one, and that I am at her disposal, so long as her tasks don't require me to leave this room until His Highness has awoken."

"You're fucking incredible, you know that? There's something _wrong_ with you," Gladio said in a low, growling voice, raising both his hands in the air in surrender before turning back to the bathroom. "We're leaving in fifteen, Prompto, so do what ya gotta, and let's get the fuck outta here."

Prompto hastily threw together a rice, fish, and seaweed sandwich with a quiet, "Um . . . thanks, Iggy," before gulping it down and getting changed out of his PJs.

So Lady Lunafreya had died yesterday, too—another huge loss to them all. Even though Prompto hadn't known her very well, she'd practically changed his life. If it hadn't been for her letter, he never would've started losing weight, never introduced himself to Noct, never have become a part of this family. He'd been so looking forward to finally meeting and thanking her in person. She sounded so nice—like someone else he could've maybe been good friends with.

And what about Noct? Things were hardly gonna get any better when he woke up to find his fiancée was dead; this was gonna kill him just as much as losing Laura was probably killing Iggy inside, maybe even worse. Six, was this what the trip was gonna be now? Prompto and a pissed-off Gladio dragging a gutted Noct to the Crystal while Iggy did his best to pretend everything was normal?

It felt so wrong, closing the door on a stiff-backed, blank-eyed Iggy typing away at his laptop, and as Gladio stalked away with a snarl on his face, Prompto couldn't help but say something.

"Are we gonna tell him?"

Gladio didn't look back as he answered, "His stubborn ass doesn't wanna know. He may not have loved her as much as I thought he did, even as much as I did, so I'm gonna keep an eye on her until he gets his shit together. Maybe after Noct wakes up, he'll stop using his duty as a shield for his moping and pull his head out of his asshole."

"Oh . . .," he said awkwardly as he jogged to keep up with Gladio's long strides. "So you and her . . .." He'd always wondered about them, with the way they always flirted with each other, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know _this_. It felt too much like betraying Iggy.

"Not like that, fool," he grunted, rolling his eyes. "She was family. But I guess . . . what was I gonna tell him, anyway? She's just as dead as he thinks she is, just happened to say the word 'healing' before she died." He sighed, his face relaxing from his scowl into sorrow. "I dunno, maybe it's easier on him this way. Not allowed back in for another three days, so hopefully we can bring him some good news then, at least get his necklace."

"Oh, so that 'boats out there every three days' thing is true? Weird they'd make that kinda knowledge public, don'tcha think?" he said with an uncomfortable laugh.

As they strode out of the hotel entrance and into the bright sun to find some way to make it to the First Secretary's estate, Prompto couldn't help but notice that Gladio was already talking about Laura in the past tense, like he'd already lost hope. Prompto hadn't completely lost all hope yet; he was still holding out for things being better by the time Noct decided to regain consciousness.

It was another four days before Noct fully woke up, and absolutely _nothing_ had gotten better.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I realize the altar is in the middle of the water, but I added a path. Why? Because I think too much about dumb things, and I hated the idea of everyone showing up having had to find a boat in that mess.

I also know that it's spelled Accordian, but come _on_ . . . they play accordions in the background, the place is called Accordo . . . they are just begging to be called Accordions.


	55. Chapter 55

Noct groaned, squinting in pain against the light coming in from the windows before he'd opened his eyes, but his breath was still hitching from the dream—or the nightmare—he'd just been pulled from.

He'd been drowning, desperately swimming as hard as he could to get to her, to just _touch_ her. If he could just get close enough, maybe he could save her. But as her ethereal apparition stood serenely at the bottom of the sylleblossom field that had suddenly transformed into a swirling, painted sea, her gauzy white gown dancing in the current, he knew that nothing he did would bring him any closer.

 _When you find yourself alone amid a lightless place, look to the distance. Know that I am there and that I watch over you_ _ **always**_ _. Farewell, dear Noctis._

Reaching up with a soft, graceful hand, she released a sylleblossom into the current, where it floated gently up to him, dissolving into his dad's ring as he reached out for it, reached out for her.

There was still some small chance the dream had just been his mind's way of dealing with everything he'd seen before he passed out . . . how long ago? But even lying on the wreckage, so close but too far from the altar, he'd seen the dagger driven into her belly, the blood bubbling from her wound. After fighting with Leviathan and feeling himself slipping from the world, she'd been there beside him, fading fast and pouring whatever she had in order to keep his heart beating. All he'd wanted to do was protect her, and she'd ended up saving him instead. The first time he'd been tested, and he'd failed her, been the one responsible for her getting killed.

"Back with us?" a soft, familiar voice sounded to his right.

Noct cracked his heavy eyelids open and looked over to see Ignis arranged carefully in the armchair next to the bed, a stack of papers in his lap and a pen in one of his shaking hands. He had new scars on his face, which seemed to stand out against his dull, empty eyes heavy with purple rings and his pasty skin.

Pushing himself up to a sitting position to see him better, Noct asked, "Iggy, you've been hurt. What happened to you?"

"A few minor scrapes when my glasses were broken in the battle. Fortunately, I happened to have a spare pair," he replied smoothly, straightening his papers before standing and heading for the door. "I'll go tell the others you've awakened."

"And Luna?" he asked, hoping against all hopes that everything he'd seen had just been a dream.

Iggy paused, not turning around to look him in the eye as he hung his head, and Noct knew before he answered, "She has passed."

His blood turned to iron at Iggy's words, weighing him down and making it hard for him to draw a full breath. When they'd come here for the Ring, Leviathan, and Luna, all Noct had cared about was making sure Luna stayed safe. With her gone . . . fuck, he'd throw the Ring and Leviathan's blessing into the sea right now if it would bring her back.

Clenching his fists tightly against the tears that wanted to escape, he couldn't help thinking how unfair it all was. Luna was so filled with light and goodness; she'd always been so kind and selfless. Why did she have to die for this world that didn't even really care? Why'd she have to die for him? He hadn't even gotten the chance to tell her . . . but that didn't matter anymore, did it? Twelve years, he'd been pouring himself into that book to create that fragile thread of emotion that seemed to follow him wherever he went, and he'd lost it, lost her, just as he was starting to figure it all out.

The injustice of it all kinda pissed him off, actually.

A bruising, burning feeling in the palm of his hand let him know that he'd been squeezing something as he sat there growing more and more angry. Bringing his trembling fist closer to his face, he slowly uncurled his aching fingers, suspecting that the dream had been more real than he'd thought, given Luna's passing. A spasm of breath seized his lungs as his dad's—his—ring was revealed, dark and shiny and innocent-looking in his palm.

He'd seen that damn ring on his dad's hand for years as it drained the life out of him, knowing that the burden would one day be passed to him when his dad couldn't hold up any longer. Noct had hated this thing that had always made his dad sad, had always made Noct dread the future. But now that the future was here, he wasn't any more ready for it than he had been back then. He _certainly_ didn't see the point of putting it on now.

"Umbra left that for you," Iggy said softly without turning around, pointing to Luna's notebook sitting next to him on the bed.

Desperate for some final word from her, Noct tore the book open and flipped to the last page. To his disappointment, he didn't find a last message, some sort of advice that would explain just how the hell he was supposed to go on after this, only a single, pressed sylleblossom—a clue, maybe, that their last meeting hadn't been a dream at all.

It was only after he heard the door closing behind Iggy that he allowed the breaths catching in his throat to grow to sobs and the tears start to fall.

He didn't know what took Ignis so long to come back with the others, but he was grateful for the hour of privacy. It had given him some time to collect himself, decide that instead of letting this clobber him, he was gonna do his best to push forward in her name, just like she'd done for him. Her sacrifice was gonna mean something, and he was gonna keep his promise as best he could.

By the time Iggy, Gladio, and Prompto pulled chairs up around the bed, he still had his fist pressed to his forehead in thought, but his eyes were dry, at least. He sat up groggily, crossing his legs underneath him with a sigh as he heard the tinkling sound of summoning coming from Prompto's direction.

"Here ya go, Iggy," Prompto said, and Noct looked up to see him handing a can of Ebony over. "Got Weskham to score us a few cases. They haven't completely run out here yet, ya know. Should help with your hands."

"How did you kn—thank you, Prompto," Iggy replied before opening the can with trembling fingers and taking several long draughts, the knot in his neck bobbing with each swallow.

He grimaced when he lowered the can, and Prompto frowned, asking, "Is it bad or something? Weskham said they stopped sending shipments a couple weeks ago, but those shouldn't be old or anything."

"No, it's perfect. I'm afraid I've grown accustomed . . . this is an enormous relief. Again, thank you."

"What's wrong?" Noct teased with a half-hearted smile. "You already drink through all of Laura's stash? Where is she, anyway?"

He didn't think Iggy's face could get any whiter than it already was, but it looked to Noct like he was gonna pass out as a veil seemed to lower from his forehead to his chin. He set down the can on a coaster on the bedside table carefully, his eyes dead.

Gladio was the one to break the stillness.

"What the _fuck_ , Iggy?! You mean you didn't tell him?"

Noct looked back over to Iggy, who was staring at the floor, his jaw and fists clenched tightly. Shit, they hadn't lost her too, had they?

"Tell me what?"

"You know, I could pretend that you moping in here was all in the line of duty as you watched over Noct. But Noct's awake now, and since you apparently gotta be the one to remove her necklace yourself, you're gonna have to hear about her at some point. She gave her life for you guys, and she doesn't deserve this shit." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "And here I thought you loved her. Not as much as she loved you, I guess."

Noct turned to Ignis, his mouth falling open, but Iggy's expression had gone carefully blank as he continued to stare down at the floor.

"Laura's dead too? What happened?" he asked in disbelief, but Iggy only gave a single, sharp nod in response.

"Naw, no more of that shit," Gladio said. "You're gonna tell us what happened. You're gonna say the words out loud."

After Iggy closed his eyes and sighed deeply, he told them of arriving at the altar with Ravus, the fight between him and Ravus for Noct's life, how Ardyn had disguised himself as Gladio, how he'd threatened Noct with a dagger, and how Laura had gotten infected trying to free Iggy from the soldiers.

Another person loved by the group, loved by Iggy, dead protecting them because Noct had failed getting Leviathan's blessing on his own. But the goddess had been so much more vicious, the Empire and Ardyn so much more ruthless this time around. How was he supposed to have done it all by himself? He'd been so wrong about being able to take care of himself, and Luna and Laura had paid the price. Noct had cursed Specs to the same fate as him, losing a loved one, and Noct wondered how Iggy had been taking it these past few days. He seemed to be okay doing his job as always, but the look on his face, the fact he was showing any signs at all meant he hadn't been doing well. If Iggy was having trouble coping, how would Noct ever expect to overthrow his own grief?

When Iggy had finished his story with a shuddering sigh, crossing his arms and curling in on himself, Noct didn't even want to ask him more questions, but there was still one huge hole in his story.

"So wait, is she dead or a daemon? What happened after that?"

Ignis raised his head and looked to Gladio, saying "I'm assuming because I cannot go to retrieve her necklace for another two days that her body lies in Stonecage? Not that I'm not grateful for the ability to recover it, but did her body not fully dissolve when you . . .," he took a breath, "killed her?"

"I'm really sorry I forgot about the name thing," Prompto said, looking down at the floor. "She told me all about it on Ravatogh and everything."

"See? That's the thing. After you got hit, she said, 'Healing. Tell Ignis,' but didn't finish before she died on her own," Gladio said.

"Gladio!" Iggy gasped, his eyes going wide. "Do you mean to say that you didn't make her safe? We don't know if she retains her powers as a daemon. Could you imagine the havoc she could wreak on Eos as a daemonized Goddess of Time and Space?"

"She wasn't so indestructible that she didn't get herself in this position in the first place. I got her in their highest security vault. Believe me, she ain't goin' nowhere. Now—important question: she ever tell you anything about being able to heal in some kinda alien way?"

Ignis's gaze turned inward for a second before he said, "She mentioned a healing coma once, but no details."

"She's definitely dead, not in a coma," Prompto said with a shudder.

"I dunno about that," Gladio said, and Iggy's head shot up at his words. "Hearts still aren't beating, but the scourge is clearing from her skin. Saw her yesterday, and no rigor mortis, no signs of decay. She's s'posed to have been dead for four days now."

"And no signs of transformation?" Iggy asked, leaning forward. "No vapor?"

Gladio shook his head and said, "I take it you can't . . .." He wiggled his fingers in some kinda meaningful way at Iggy's face, and Iggy shook his head back at him.

"How is this the first you're hearing of this?" Noct asked incredulously. Specs, after all, had always been the one doing the informing. It was weird hearing all this information from Gladio. Had he really done nothing at all except sit by his bed these past . . . was it really four days he'd been out?

"Told you," Gladio said, his volume rising. "He's been refusing any information on her in some twisted notion of duty to you!"

"I told you yesterday that my first duty was to the Crown, did I not?" Iggy snapped. But his voice grew quiet and faraway as he continued, "Alive or dead, she of all people understands that . . . more than anyone."

Specs had always taken his 'duty to the Crown' way too seriously, Noct thought; it was why they were always telling him to just freaking relax already, why it turned out he had no personal life until he'd left Insomnia. Even through the heavy fog of his own mourning, Noct could plainly see Iggy was using duty as an excuse to not deal with stuff, but short of Laura suddenly waking up, he didn't know what to do to help, especially with him drowning in the same boat. Still, it might've been too late for them to save Luna, but if there was anything in the world they could do to save Laura, they were gonna do it.

"Well you're all going again in two days, right? I'm coming too."

Gladio nodded. "As you should. We all got a duty to look out for each other, too, and no one more than the King. But today? You stay here while we finish with this temporary bridge we're working on. Magical exhaustion's no joke."

"Don't gotta tell me twice," Noct said, falling back into the pillows. Even just being awake this last hour and a half or so had worn him down, and he was starting to feel weak and shaky. Closing his eyes, he let himself go, not caring that the others were still sitting around him—succumbing to the heavy sleepiness that had been trying to pull him back down since he'd woken up.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Ignis asked two days later after he'd ruthlessly pushed the curtains aside to allow the sun to shine into the room and sit stiffly in the armchair next to the bed.

Terrible. He felt terrible. All night, Laura and Luna had haunted his dreams. As he stood in a field of sylleblossoms, Luna would reach out to him, her fingers outstretched as he desperately tried to grab her hand, but he could never make contact for some reason. Then Laura would appear, her miasmic eyes glowing black and purple as she took Luna's hand. Luna and Laura would begin to glow gold, and just before he would wake up, he could hear Ardyn chuckling directly in his ear, sending shivers down his arms.

Three times he'd had that dream last night, and each time, he'd sat up suddenly in bed covered in a cold sweat. It was like when he'd been attacked by the marilith as a kid. He hadn't slept for months as his mind had kept cycling over and over, reliving the slice of the blades against his back and the sticky warmth of his nanny's lifeblood between his fingers.

He finally managed a grunt in response to Ignis's question.

"Noct?" he asked hesitantly, almost as though he were nervous about bringing up whatever he wanted to talk about. His tone caught Noct's attention immediately. Specs was never nervous about talking to him unless he was the one being interrogated about something personal. "Perhaps it might be best if we . . .," he paused for a breath, "brought our journey to a close."

"Why?" he asked, sitting up suddenly, unable to even believe that Iggy, of all people, had said such a thing.

With a small, pained groan, he said, "It's just that uh . . .," he hesitated, as though choosing his words very carefully, "we've already lost so much. Too much."

"Are you kidding me?!" he asked in disbelief, meeting Iggy's bloodshot eyes. "That's exactly why I have to keep going—because if I give up now, their sacrifices would have been for nothing!"

Noct may not have understood the magnitude of the destiny he'd undertaken when he promised Luna all those years ago that he would help her rid the world of darkness, but he understood it now—probably better than anyone thought he did. Luna had given his life purpose for all these years, even if he hadn't known it at the time, and now that she was gone, he was damn well gonna finish the job that she had died doing in his name.

But he couldn't believe he was hearing this from _Ignis_ —the guy who'd been pushing him to be more since before he could remember.

"And you . . .," he accused, thinking of the girl Iggy had fallen for so fast, currently lying dead in a dungeon in Stonecage, "you, of all people . . . you should know that better than anyone."

When Iggy didn't respond, Noct stared down at his feet in thought. Every now and then, Noct would have little doubts here and there about Iggy's judgment, but he'd usually ended up the one in the wrong. This was the first time he'd actually doubted Iggy himself, _mistrusted_ Iggy's motivations for his advice. Noct had _thought_ this lost hopelessness had been about losing his girlfriend, but if he was suggesting this, he clearly didn't get the meaning of all those deaths in Noct's name, why they _had_ to do this.

"You know, I've known Luna for twelve years. She was gonna be my wife," he said, the word still sounding foreign as it passed his teeth. "It was s'posed to be my duty to protect her, and I failed. She died protecting _me_. It's like, I had this responsibility as her future husband, and it's sacred, and I let her down. Maybe it's cause you and Laura weren't as close, but . . . that kinda connection does something to you, Ig. I can't let her die for no reason."

Before Noct could look over at him again, Iggy stood and strode swiftly toward the door, but he stopped in the archway between the bedroom and the parlor, letting out a defeated sigh before turning his head to speak over his shoulder in a husky, pained voice.

"The decision is yours to make, and yours alone. But do remember we will stand with you always and help you bear your burdens." His voice grew stronger as he continued, "Don't be afraid to let us share the load."

Noct blinked in surprise. Had he missed something? This conversation clearly wasn't what he thought it was about, since it had headed in this seemingly random direction. Before he could take another step and reach the door to the suite, Noct stopped him.

"Iggy?"

"If you're feeling up to it, the First Secretary says that there are a number of people trapped in the library," he said, looking over his shoulder again, but not enough to make eye contact. "She can't seem to offer a clear explanation as to why, but their forces are having trouble getting at them. This may be a mission Gladio and Prompto will need our assistance with."

"Uh . . . sure," he said reluctantly. As much as he'd rather sleep another day away, it wasn't like he could with people needing help. Maybe actually getting out and doing something would keep him from obsessing over Luna and the heavy blanket of depression that kept threatening to pull him under. "Give me like, twenty minutes?"

"Excellent," Iggy said with a nod, turning back toward the door. "We'll be downstairs waiting for you."

* * *

Running his hands over the window and the red forcefield covering the frame, Noct could easily tell why the Accordion forces had needed help, but he couldn't imagine what Camelia expected their group to do about this. They'd gone to the Tigiano District on Northern Isle to see about this library people were supposedly trapped in, only to find every door and window sealed off with a flickering red light that couldn't be penetrated by any force, weapon, or spell they possessed.

Noct could tell by the amount of damage in the area and looks on the guys' faces as they prodded their forcefields that they'd done some fighting in this area. Specs especially kept looking out to the main square like it was torturing him to be there.

"Are we even sure there are people trapped in there?" Gladio asked. "Think they would've answered our knocks by now."

"Dunno," Noct replied as he summoned his sword and prodded at the frame around the window. "I've never seen anything like this." The sword scraped off the energy as though it were solid rock, shooting sparks and ringing in the quiet, still smoking air.

"I bet Laura would know what to do," Prompto sighed.

"Not helping, Prompto," Gladio said under his breath, pushing his fist carefully into one of the energy panels covering his window.

Ignis was running his gloved hands over the front entrance, his head tilted and his eyes narrowed in thought. "The energy must be coming from somewhere. If we could locate and disable the source, the forcefields should disappear."

"Do you have any idea how long I've been kept waiting?" a familiar oily voice sounded from Gladio's window, and Gladio let out a small surprised exclamation before stepping back closer to Noct. "It's a rather rude habit, you know."

"You!" Noct spat at Ardyn, ducking out from behind Gladio and ramming the tip of his sword into the panel with every ounce of strength he possessed. It hit the forcefield and bounced off, the metal against energy shrieking in protest

"Ah, ah. I wouldn't do that if I were you," Ardyn said, raising a finger in the air and tilting his chin mockingly. His eyes traveled over to Noct's other side, where Iggy stood just behind him. "I imagine you're surprised to see me."

"Not particularly," Iggy replied.

"Ahh," he sighed, his eyes closing serenely, "the curse of immortality. Was your freakish friend able to tell you before it happened?" He opened his eyes again and stared Iggy down intently. "Did you get to see it for yourself? Clearly as stunningly powerful as I expected. Was she a beauty to behold?"

Noct didn't bother waiting for Iggy to respond. This was the guy who'd killed Luna and maybe Laura, and if anything was gonna scare him, it'd be that Laura had resisted the one power he was able to hold over everybody.

"She's more powerful than you think. Looks like you weren't able to change her after all."

The satisfaction that spread through Noct's chest and down his limbs at the sight of Ardyn's smug expression dropping to subtle surprise was almost worth the glare he got from Iggy when he stepped forward to meet his eyes, but it wasn't like Ardyn could do anything with that information.

"I wonder," he began in a soft, thoughtful tone, "do _you_ even know what she is?"

"Sucks not knowing, doesn't it?" Noct shot back in mock sympathy. "Who's the incompetent one now?"

Specs relaxed his face before turning to smirk at Ardyn. "Perhaps an old dog simply cannot be taught new tricks beyond the third dimension—a spherical dimwit, indeed."

"My, but you two certainly are brave this morning. Where was that display of youthful vigor when last we met? Is it possible your gall is due to the presence of your Shield and not a show of true courage?"

Gladio took a step forward, summoning his sword and hefting it over his shoulder with a frown. "You're the one standing behind a shield right now. Why don't you come on out, and we'll show you how courageous we can be?"

"Another time, perhaps," he sighed with regret. "I have some rather unfortunate business to attend to, but rest assured, I'll be seeing you again very, very soon. You see, your little companion has seen fit to leave me with a gift, and if she does, in fact, live, I fear I must return the favor. It's only polite, of course."

"What kinda gift? What do you mean return the favor?" Noct asked, his heart beating a little faster at the thought that maybe he'd given Ardyn too much information after all. If Laura was dead, it wouldn't matter what Ardyn tried to do to her, but if she was alive, she couldn't be any more vulnerable than she was now.

"I mean," he said with a smirk and a tip of his hat as he began backing away from the window, "until we meet again, little Prince."

* * *

Even though their travel lights were on as they plodded down yet another level of dark, freezing, winding staircase, Noct did his best to stick close to the warden in front of him and the warm circle of light his lantern was providing. This place reminded him too much of Costlemark, and his overused reflexes were itching to summon his sword at every flash of Prompto's swinging arm out of the corner of his eye.

When they'd run out of stairs to descend, the warden led them down the aisle of barred cells and sealed doors, some even displaying the protective holy runes similar to those he'd seen on the haven floors. Snatches of whispers and muttered conversations skittered over his ears and fled like spiders scurrying away from the light as their five sets of footsteps echoed down the dark hallway.

As they passed by one of the barred cells, a sudden flash of movement and a scream brought Noct's sword to the ready, and he froze in preparation for a fight. Wild, viciously violet eyes stared up at him from underneath a mop of gray hair and sunken withered skin as an old woman clutched at the bars with gnarled, arthritic hands. Recognizing that he might've overreacted, Noct dismissed his sword and followed after the warden, but he could still hear the woman's maniacal laughter chasing after them.

"Three and a half cups of sugar to get to the fucking moon, darlings!" she screamed as the light from the lantern left her, and she was enshrouded in darkness again.

"I still can't believe we put her in here," Prompto said, his voice echoing off the stone walls to be heard by everyone, including the prisoners in their cells.

Noct sped up for a couple steps to lean closer to the warden as he asked, "What did that woman back there do?"

The warden stopped in front of a large, round door covered in runes and reached into his pocket, pulling out two keys to hand Gladio. "I dunno. You learn not to ask questions in this job. Come get me when you're ready to leave. I'll be in my office."

"Not very friendly, is he?" Noct muttered when the warden had turned and walked far enough away to not hear him.

Using one of the keys he'd just been given, Gladio unlocked the round door, pulling it back with all his might to reveal another barred door behind it. Iggy, who'd been completely silent since he'd gotten on the boat to come here, rushed forward to shine his travel light into the pitch-black, oppressively small cell.

"Ya gotta move, Ig," Gladio said gently, pushing him aside so he could unlock the second door.

It was once the door was opened and the four of them squeezed inside to stand around the stone table she'd been chained to that Noct really got a good look at the friend that had died defending him. He'd never considered himself particularly close to Laura like the others had—she'd been more of a friendly mentor than actual family. But he was forced to reconsider that position as he took in her shredded uniform covered in the blood of two species; the oozing, festering blade slashes and bullet grazes on her bare arms; the nearly solid mats of her bloody hair hanging off the edge of the platform; the purple bruises in the shape of hand and fingerprints on her neck and face; and the blue tint to her skin and lips. Her arms were crossed over her chest, held tightly in place by thick, iron shackles attached to chains that wrapped around the underside of the table and over her body several times.

Every trial she'd undergone that day to keep them all safe was still written on her body like ink on paper.

Ignis drew in a deep, hitching breath and released it in a shuddering sigh. "Still not breathing, but her aura . . .," he murmured, and before any of them could even make a move to stop him, he reached out to place a hand on her forehead. Noct hadn't even noticed him removing his gloves. Had he planned to touch her scourged body this entire time? Even if they couldn't currently see any scourge on her skin, there was no way they could know that she was clear of the disease.

"Fuck, Iggy!" Gladio roared as the three of them jumped back toward the door. "You're probably infected now!"

Iggy glared up at them all, fire dancing in his bloodshot eyes. Those eyes and pale skin of his had been some of his subtle signs of stress he'd been showing since Noct had woken up two days ago; even his hands had stopped shaking once he'd gotten some caffeine in him. Noct had realized when little Ignis had showed up those weeks ago that no one was better than Iggy at hiding stuff, except maybe Laura, but there was no way Noct could've known the constant shivering and inability to eat and sleep had been hiding this level of willingness to self-destruct.

"Come now, what do you take me for? I'm not suicidal," he said impatiently. He looked down tenderly at the corpse under his hand and moved his fingers to her neck. "She may not have a pulse or breath, but she has an aura, and it's clear of the scourge. Now, give me the key to her shackles. We're getting her out of this terrible place this instant."

He held out his hand to Gladio for the key, but when Gladio only glared at him in response, his brown eyes darting back and forth over his face as though he were inspecting him, Iggy turned to Noct.

"Noct, I assure you that I am of sound mind and judgment," he said calmly, his hand not leaving Laura's neck, but his chest was rising and falling a little too rapidly for not having been in battle.

"Since when can you read auras in that much detail? Hell, since when can you read auras at all? She in your head again?" Gladio asked, glaring back at Iggy.

"Since she taught me to, and no, she isn't," he said shortly.

Prompto stepped forward and raised his hand a little. "Whaddya mean by in his head?" he asked Gladio.

Gladio's eyes widened as he looked back to Ignis. "You still haven't told them?"

"No," he said, shaking his outstretched hand, "but you may as well while I unlock her." When Gladio still didn't move to give him the key, he turned to Noct. "Highness, please," he pleaded.

It was the word 'please,' that plucked at something inside Noct—not that it was an uncommon word to hear coming from Iggy. But in all their years together, Specs had hardly ever asked anything from him for personal reasons, and he'd definitely never asked for anything that required Noct's complete trust like this. That trust had been shaken when he'd suggested they stop their mission to get the Crystal back because Noct had thought he'd been too lost in his grief or afraid of dying. But seeing him willing to put his life on the line to prove that he was right about Laura, seeing him staring back at Noct with that weird combination of defiant rationality in his expression, Noct realized that his 'duty to the Crown' hadn't been moping after all. The speech about bringing their journey to an end hadn't been about his own losses and fears; it'd been about protecting Noct. Iggy had been carrying on as best he could despite the pain of loss. That kinda strength was something Noct knew he could never be able to match, but he could sure as hell try.

Iggy would never put any of them in danger, no matter what.

"Give him the key," Noct said, nodding at Gladio, who frowned, but gave a sharp nod before dropping the key in Iggy's still outstretched hand. Iggy brought the shaking key to the locks on Laura's wrists, and Noct said, "We'll just . . . wait for you outside."

As the frantic clanking and pulling of chains echoed out into the hallway, Noct gathered Gladio and Prompto around him, asking in a low voice so as not to be overheard by the other prisoners, "What's this about the head thing?"

Gladio sighed and closed his eyes. "I shouldn't've said anything, but I thought he'd gone nuts. You know she's telepathic, right? She gets in his head, and they're in pretty much constant contact. Or they were, anyway, before this happened. It's like, a couple's thing."

"And you knew about this? Why the hell didn't you say anything?" Noct demanded. "How long have you known?"

He knew from experience that having gods in his head, even having Laura in his head, was no small thing. How much had she been messing with Iggy this entire time? And gods . . . when he was all messed up in Caem, had that been her too? If it weren't for what she'd done to be lying in that cell right now, he'd have half a mind to leave her there.

"Because he didn't want people to know, and it wasn't my business. Figured it out on the boat here, and I checked, man. I checked to make sure he was safe. And can you honestly tell me that he hasn't been happier since we left Insomnia?"

"If you would all kindly finish discussing my private life at a later time?" Iggy said as he appeared in the doorway to the cell, Laura's limp body cradled in his arms. "The sooner we leave this place, the better."

To Noct's surprise, they had no trouble removing Laura from the prison, as her imprisonment had been unofficial and semi-voluntary. The phrase 'Orb of Bemusement' was bounced around with all the weight of fate itself between the warden and Gladio before he let them go, but Iggy stood stock still and quiet in the corner of the warden's cramped and littered office, refusing to sit despite Laura's dead weight in his arms.

"She's so still, so cold," he said in a small voice when they'd stepped out of the warden's office and were led out to the front entrance.

"You sure you don't want me to carry h—" Gladio began as they stepped outside into the afternoon sun, but he was interrupted by Iggy's soft curse.

"Bloody hell," he breathed down at Laura as his steps toward the boat dock faltered.

The darkness of the dungeon, even the dim lighting in the warden's office, had been kind in shrouding Laura's true condition. Besides the bloodless blue of her skin being way more obvious in the light of day, Noct could see that every tear in her body suit had hidden more wounds of war—still sickeningly juicy and swollen—as though they'd only happened hours ago—and an odd greenish-purplish-red.

"I've seen corpses that look better than her," Prompto whispered, and Gladio elbowed him, shaking his head before glancing in Iggy's direction meaningfully.

With all that had happened in the last few days, no one was alarmed or even questioned the fact that they were boating through the canals and walking on the street carrying a corpse, but the city was still mostly clear of civilians. The few people they did pass averted their gaze down and away or bowed their heads, as though mourning in solidarity along with them. Noct wondered how many others were still wandering the city searching for lost loved ones and how many had been found dead for people to no longer be at all shocked by the sight of a corpse in the street. It seemed they'd all, even the civilians, had aged and hardened in the last few days, and a tightening coil of anger sprung inside him at the thought of all the stolen lives and broken families.

Ardyn and the Emperor were going to pay for this.

As soon as they got back to their room, Iggy carried Laura straight to the bathroom and shut the door behind him while he, Gladio, and Prompto settled in for a long wait in the parlor chairs. It was only behind the semi-privacy of the closed door that Iggy finally seemed to let go, and the agony he'd been hiding away, all that emotion they'd all been doubting the existence of, was released like water from a broken dam. The three of them stared at their boots in silence, pretending they weren't hearing the sounds of wracking sobs wrung from reluctant lips just barely rising above the sound of the water filling the tub.

As the roaring rush of water ceased, giving way to little splashes, Iggy quieted to the occasional gasp and small, choked-off sob, but it still felt like they were all desecrating something sacred—taking a piss on Bahamut's altar—to be sitting there listening to someone as private as Iggy pour his heart out. In all his life, Noct had never seen him cry, not even when little Ignis had had the panic attack back in Keycatrich.

Since Noct had woken up two days ago, Iggy had seen to his every need, asking after his health and mood, making sure he ate a well-balanced diet and drank enough water, ensuring his sheets were fresh and the bedroom picked up. But what had any of them done to take care of Iggy? Gladio had pushed food at him a couple of times, and Prompto had gotten him that Ebony. But what had Noct done to help Iggy when he'd been going through the same thing Noct had? All three of them would have to step it up.

If Laura had been awake, she probably would've kicked all their asses by now.

After an hour and the third time they heard the tub being drained and refilled, Prompto stood up suddenly. "I can't take this anymore," he said, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'm gonna go find some food. Doubt Ignis is gonna wanna move from her side when he gets out. Either of you wanna come?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," Gladio replied. "With Ardyn out there, none of us should be alone."

"I'm gonna stay here," Noct said. "Bring me back some chips?"

"You got it," Prompto replied with a half-hearted wink and finger guns. "Move my stuff in here and take my spot on the other bed? That way he can stay with her."

"Yeah, no problem."

"We shoulda been doin' that the whole time—not lettin' 'em get away with all that propriety garbage," Gladio said as he stood and stretched, cracking his neck. "Not like those two were gonna start fucking with us in the next bed over, anyway."

Once the door had shut behind them, the silence was almost stifling as Noct moved Prompto's stuff and pulled out his phone to start a game, and it was only the silence that allowed him to hear the words beneath Iggy's murmuring.

"Rose Laurelín Tildari Haránathat Ni'annen Tyler."

Was that her full name? It seemed ridiculously long, even for royalty. Noct hadn't known that 'Rose' was _actually_ her name and not just an alias, which made it a little less weird that Iggy called her that from time to time. But why was he saying her full name like it was a spell or something? Even as he sat there shooting down little green aliens, he could hear Iggy sigh and repeat her name three more times in that same flat tone.

It was another hour before the door opened and Ignis emerged, carrying Laura and wearing his pajamas with his hair still down and wet. It reminded Noct of when they were teenagers, when things were so much simpler, and Iggy had looked so much younger. Sometimes he forgot Iggy was only twenty-two and not forty-five, with the way he talked and acted and kept them all in line. He wasn't supposed to have all his shit together yet, but they all sure as hell treated him like he did. Noct wondered how often Iggy was just pretending to be holding it together, like he apparently was now, with that mask of cool composure.

As Ignis laid Laura's limp body down with her head at the foot the bed, Noct noticed even from his spot in his armchair that she looked marginally better with all the blood washed off her skin, but her sleep shorts and t-shirt had laid bare even more of the open wounds, burns, and rings of bloody flesh around her wrists and ankles as Iggy carefully arranged them in a more comfortable position. Iggy turned to the parlor, reaching out to grab the other armchair, and froze when he caught sight of Noct sitting there watching him.

"Highness. Apologies, I'd thought you all left," he said with a nod before picking up an armchair and setting it by the foot of the bed. As he headed back into the bathroom, Noct stood and dragged his own chair next to Iggy's. Maybe he could find out some more about Iggy's head space with a little chat. He didn't wanna believe that Laura would hurt him, but even if Gladio had checked, he felt like he had the responsibility to double-check.

When Iggy emerged from the bathroom holding a comb, he greeted softly, "Noct," before sitting down and setting the comb on the bed next to Laura's head. Placing his thumbs carefully over her temples, he let his fingers rest down her cheeks as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After several tense and still moments, his entire body seemed to slacken before he leaned down to briefly press his lips to her forehead, and Noct had to suppress that crawling feeling of awkwardness seeing him kiss someone for the first time. Their dance at the masquerade had already been a shocking side of Specs to witness, but this tender, loving Specs was just as strange. Why did he suddenly feel free to do it in front of other people?

"Come back to me, please," Iggy whispered into her skin, adjusting the necklace he'd been so obsessed about around her neck. "Again, we have much to discuss, you and I."

Iggy didn't acknowledge Noct's presence as he picked up the comb, fanned Laura's matted hair in a halo around her head, and pulled it apart into six sections. Picking up the left-most section of tangles, he began working through them, starting at the ends and working upward in quick, gentle strokes.

As much as Noct wanted to leave Iggy in peace for a few minutes, his mind was buzzing with questions. He really could've used some of Iggy's interrogation skills to handle this right now, but all he had was himself.

"What was that all about? Were you trying to contact her? Are you telepathic now?"

Iggy leaned in closer to his work as he said in a hushed voice, "No, but I am . . . I was with her. I can't feel an inkling of her now. Her mind is just as silent to me as anyone else's."

Noct tried to imagine what it would be like to share a mind with someone—with Luna—all their years of contact in that book shared instantly across the distance from soul to soul. He could've shared in her gentle sweetness in the sylleblossom fields of Tenebrae for the last twelve years of their lives without the Empire knowing a thing. But Laura was a different story; she was so different from Luna. She'd been inside Noct's mind before, and she was just . . . so much more than human—immense and terrifying. But as much as Noct wanted to be pissed at Laura for possibly screwing with Iggy's head, he really wanted to know what Iggy thought about it. His mind was important to his job, and Noct knew he wouldn't let just anyone in there. Noct doubted Iggy would even let him in his head if such a thing was possible.

"So, what's it like, sharing a mind with someone like her?"

"Oh Noct," he breathed in awe the second Noct had finished asking, as though he were desperate to tell someone, "you have no idea. She has lived over seventy of our lifetimes, and I have walked among her memories as clearly as I sit before you now— an entire life lived in the moments in between, where I can fully pursue both my leisure and my duty."

Iggy paused in his work as he met Noct's gaze, his eyes wide in wonderment.

"Every hobby I wish to pursue, anything I ever dreamed of learning or seeing is right there in her mind—lost secrets of ancient civilizations, elemancy, healcasting, blade techniques, magic and methods humans haven't discovered and couldn't even use on this planet are available to me, with more practice, because of our connection.

"I've seen the birth and death of stars, the rise and fall of mighty civilizations, the very first sunrise on a newly formed planet; attended lectures and concerts by some of the most brilliant philosophers, scientists, and composers humanity will ever know; seen worlds with three purple suns, frozen waterfalls made of diamond, and cities that take up entire planets. I've danced on a bloody moon! I have seen the breathtaking and the absurd."

Noct was speechless as Iggy turned back to his work, and after working out a particularly stubborn knot, he continued in a more subdued tone.

"More than that, I have seen her soul firsthand, and by some absolute miracle, I'm permitted to know for certain that she worships me as much as I do her. And if she dies here, now, because of my failure, all of time and space will have lost the most precious treasure in existence."

Studying the bleak, serious expression on Iggy's face, remembering when he'd first noticed the odd light in his eyes back in Caem, Noct wondered just how much was left of the guy who'd first left Insomnia with him. From the sound of it, he'd been on twice the adventures the rest of them had—the kind no one else on Eos could ever have—and Noct certainly didn't recognize this affection-displaying, loving guy he was seeing right now, had seen since Iggy had first held Laura's hand by the campfire.

"Wow, Specs. No wonder you're so different. You've seemed . . . I dunno, older somehow, kinda separate from the world." _Separate from me,_ he thought to himself, but even as he thought it, he knew the words weren't really true. Despite all Iggy'd been through in these past months, he'd always been there the moment Noct needed him, and often when he hadn't.

Ignis stopped working to adjust his glasses before lightly brushing his fingers against Laura's cheek and starting on the next section of her hair. "It's just that she gave me so much more than the world to contemplate that I could no longer completely be a part of it. But now that she's gone, everything is shallow, two-dimensional."

"So you think she's really dead?"

He pursed his lips before he replied, "I can't say. I've never met a corpse with an aura; however, I've never met a living person without breath or a heartbeat, either. She warned us a powerful spell could kill her, and she certainly performed one while infected just before . . . this."

"Can you use any of the healing stuff you know on her? I mean, even for just the wounds."

He shook his head. "Her energy and mine combine for that sort of healing on her body. If she is, in fact, drained, I could be doing more harm. I was still working on learning some of the more advanced healing magics before the battle."

Noct sat in silence and watched Iggy worked until Prompto and Gladio returned with behemoth burgers and chips a couple of hours later, which didn't surprise Noct, since most of the bridges were out and so few places were open for business. Iggy had just finished braiding Laura's hair, and when had he learned to braid hair, anyway? He'd summoned bandages and a bunch of healing salves from the first-aid kit and was standing to get started on Laura's wounds when he was pushed back into his chair by Gladio's heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Sit down and eat. Haven't seen you eat a damn thing all day, and Ebony don't count."

"I'll eat when I'm finished," Iggy protested.

"Sorry, buddy. You're gonna eat now," Prompto said, thrusting a wrapped burger into his hands. Then you're gonna get in that bed and sleep until you can't possibly sleep anymore."

"Yeah, I got this," Gladio said, picking up the medical supplies from the bed and opening a tube of ointment. "I don't look like much, but I know the medical shit too, ya know."

"Of course I know," Iggy replied with a frown before sighing down at his burger. "You have my thanks, truly."

The three of them ate while Gladio dressed Laura's many wounds, practically wrapping her from head to toe in gauze, as they traded stories about the more heroic things they'd done while they'd been separated—like when Prompto saved Iggy and Gladio by crashing the weird Nif craft into two armors, or when Ignis and Laura took out over forty MTs and soldiers and two armors on their own. When they'd finished eating, Prompto cleared away the trash, Gladio moved all the chairs back into the parlor, and Noct helped Ignis move Laura to face the right way on the bed and get her covered. Iggy had started heading to the couch in the parlor when Noct stopped him.

"Go on, get in bed, Specs," Noct said, thrusting his chin at what had been his spot on the bed. "We did some rearranging."

He opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, but then looked down at Laura's body, seeming to realize Noct wouldn't wanna sleep in the same bed as his dead girlfriend anyway. Glancing first at Gladio on the other bed, then Prompto setting up his spot on the couch, then Noct, he said in a soft, warm voice, "Thank you, all of you."

"Just rest now. She's got an aura, right? And the scourge is gone. So there's still hope."


	56. Chapter 56

The second Iggy stood up from the bed, leaving his papers in a neat stack on the nightstand, Gladio took his place, sitting up against the headboard and pulling Laura's arm over his middle so that her tepid body was pulled up against his side. Gladio and Prompto had been taking turns keeping her warm during the rare times Iggy would have to leave her side since they'd brought her back to the suite a week ago, but none of them had any idea if the practice was doing her any good besides making her feel somewhat less like a corpse. Cuddling with a dead body was definitely the weirdest fucking thing he'd done in recent months, but Gladio had decided that Laura definitely wasn't dead, and he was gonna do whatever might help to get her to wake up again. Iggy, despite being practically glued to her side as he worked, wasn't quite as optimistic.

"I'm afraid I've lost the ability to be impartial in this matter," Ignis said, rolling his shoulders as he pulled his jacket on. "I can hardly ask you all to indulge me in carrying a corpse with us all the way to Gralea."

"Damnit, Ig, you think we haven't? Pretty sure not chopping her head off when I should've made that pretty clear," Gladio said.

Gladio had been taking it easier on Iggy since they'd gotten back from the prison, since he'd heard the most heart-shattering sound possible to be wrenched from a man like Ignis from behind a closed door that none of them dared open. It wasn't until he'd watched 'Ice Cold' Iggy stoically walk into that room, completely crumble to rubble, then completely rebuild himself to take care of Laura that Gladio had realized that no one was capable of kicking Ignis Scientia's ass better than himself. He really _had_ been feeling something for her all that time, been beating the shit out of himself for whatever had really happened on that altar. And while Gladio still hadn't approved of the moping, at least Ig was doing something about it now.

Nothing pissed Gladio off more than sacrifice going unacknowledged. There was something of a sore point in it when his entire line of ancestors, good and strong men and women, had dedicated their lives and bodies and children to protecting the line of kings. He'd thought Iggy was using his duty as an excuse to move on from Laura and forget about what she'd done, and normally, Gladio would agree that duty came first. But any one of them could've watched Noct when they'd visited her at the prison that first time, and Iggy _definitely_ could've at least heard his reports on her. But he _had_ been acknowledging her sacrifice, in his own way, the entire time, and Gladio was starting to feel a little bad for being so hard on him those first few days.

"It doesn't matter who's impartial and who isn't," Noct said loud enough to be heard from the parlor. "We're taking her with us whether she's dead or not."

Gladio heard that decisive, commanding tone, the tone of a king, and was almost proud for a second—until he looked over at Noct's hands to see his fingers still bare. The more days that passed without Noct putting that ring on, the more irritated Gladio was starting to get with him—for almost the same reason he'd been irritated with Ignis, but he'd kept his mouth shut so far. Even though the kid had been sleeping way too much, not training with him in the mornings, and generally being a pain in the ass, Gladio had to admit he'd been doing a decent job of picking himself back up, considering everything he'd lost. If he still hadn't put the Ring on by the time they got back on the road, however, words were gonna have to be said.

"How're we gonna protect her from Ardyn though?" Prompto asked from his spot on the couch next to Noct. "Not like we can just toss her in the trunk."

Gladio furrowed his brow as looked down at Laura's slack face—her long black eyelashes laid against her pale skin, her blue lips turned down into a slight frown, those godsdamn fingerprints across her cheek. She looked no different than she had a week ago, and because of Noct and his big mouth, a dangerous man with a personal grudge would be coming after her as soon as he was done with his 'business,' which was why the three of them had to stay in the room in the first place while Iggy gave his report to Claustra on organizing the bridge rebuilding efforts.

"We'll figure it out," Noct said. "Services to the Empire are slowly shutting down for some reason, but Camelia got us on the last train out to Gralea in a few weeks. Hopefully she'll have woken up by then."

"It's gonna take like, two weeks on the boat just to get to Terraverde to catch the train, anyway. She can definitely come with us for that," Prompto said.

"Hopefully the radio reports after the Fall were right, and the Crystal actually _is_ in Gralea," Gladio muttered.

Prompto had obviously lost whatever round of game he was playing because he groaned and put his phone down before replying, "But then we gotta figure out where in Gralea it is. Not like that's gonna be a small place to search. Are we gonna have to walk the _whole_ city?"

Iggy had pulled on a single glove but paused to say, "I did some rather extensive studies on Niflheimian geography during my stay at the library. I must say Zegnautus Keep captures my interest as a likely stronghold for the Crystal. It's not a sure bet, but a good place to start."

"And I bet Ardyn's gonna give us some hints along the way," Noct growled bitterly.

"Indeed. No doubt he'll be following us," Iggy said, and Gladio thought he could almost hear contempt in his tone as well.

Leaning over Gladio, Iggy placed a hand on Laura's forehead before pulling back to put his other glove on. "Still cold," he said under his breath before turning his eyes on Gladio. "I'm leaving you in charge, Gladio. Should the Chancellor appear while I'm away, I'm counting on you to get _everyone_ out safely."

As he'd drawn closer, Gladio examined Iggy's face for signs of that broken guy he'd seen in the prison and heard in the bathroom. That kinda pain didn't just go away, even if he'd been doing a kickass job taking care of Noct, Laura, and all Claustra's relief effort tasks. He still wasn't eating enough—and was drinking Ebony like a fiend—but that death mask on his face seemed to have improved a little. Surprisingly, he'd seemed to be getting more restful sleep next to Laura's dead body, which Gladio wouldn't've figured, but when he'd asked about it, Iggy'd muttered something about her aura and changed the topic to handling the civs that wanted to move back into the city.

"You got my word, I'll keep her safe," Gladio said seriously, even though they went through different variations of this _every_ time Iggy had to leave the room. It didn't need to be said between the two of them that Noct's safety would come first. "We're all gonna stay here together in the room until you get back unless something happens—maximum protection. Even got the staff downstairs keeping an eye out for us this time."

"Very well," he replied before looking back down at Laura. "Be sure not to keep her in that position the entire time. I should be back in time to change her bandages, but as it now has become an hour of circuitous walking to get to the First Secretary's estate, I may be delayed in returning."

"We got this, Ig. She'll be okay."

"I'd prefer her to be better than 'okay.' Remember your promise. And call me if there are any changes whatsoever."

"I will." Before Iggy could turn away and head for the door though, Gladio reached out a hand to stop him, speaking in a low voice so Noct and Prompto wouldn't overhear them over their game in the parlor. "Hey, Prompto said something the other day that made me think."

"A dangerous notion, to be certain," Iggy replied, "especially considering the source."

"Shut up. Tryin' to be serious here." Gladio glanced down at Laura draped across his torso, looking for all the world like she was sleeping on him if it weren't for her color. "You know I'd never make a move on your girl, right? We're not like that."

A shadow of his old self crossed over Iggy's face as he smirked back down at him. "Of course, I know that, and not only because she would have likely castrated you if you'd tried." The quirk dropped from his lips as his eyes moved over to Laura. "She cared for you in the same way."

"Good, just makin' sure," Gladio said with a nod, doing his best not to take note of the fact that Iggy preferred to use the past tense when it came to talking about Laura.

Gladio respected that Iggy was a realist no matter how much it hurt, even if Gladio had gotten up in the middle of the night a time or two to see him sleeping all wrapped around her like she was a big stuffed moogle, his head centered over where one of her hearts should've been beating. Gladio himself had been doing his best not to feel anything about this whole ordeal—move on, that's what he did, what he always had to do—but gods damnit, Laura always made things harder, sticking around and giving hope instead of just waking up or dying like a normal person.

"Was there anything any of you needed me to pick up on my way back?" Iggy asked as he strode toward the door.

"Nah, I think we're good," Noct said, not taking his eyes from his phone. "Thanks, Specs."

With one final, significant look at Gladio, Iggy shut the door to the suite behind him.

"All right, Princess," Gladio said with a sigh. "Let's see what kinda shit you got going on in this book today."

Gladio had long ago finished reading and outlining all his plans with _The Business of Agriculture_ , at which point, he'd asked to borrow anything Laura'd had in her Pocket. He hadn't taken any real steps forward in his plans to start a farm beyond asking Dustin and Monica to inspect the house and the protective runes if they had the time. He couldn't ask them to do anything more than that—just checking things out was way beyond the call of duty. Anything else would require Gladio's direct attention and an actual staff—things that would have to wait until after they'd returned with the Crystal.

He was lucky the armiger held any kinda book they had on hand because the floppy, leather-bound monstrosity Laura had given him was a pain in the ass to carry around. It looked ancient, like most things from Laura's Pocket tended to, and he wondered how old it'd been before she'd placed it in null-time. The story actually seemed like a more old-fashioned version of their own journey, but with a whole lotta alien words like horses, elves, and roasted chicken, which, because of Laura's influence, Gladio couldn't help but imagine as a roasted chocobo. Hell, even some of the main characters were aliens. But Gladio'd had a lotta fun so far roasting them for their shitty battle tactics and why the ever-living fuck those eagles couldn't've just solved the entire problem in fifteen minutes.

Turning to the first page, he ran his fingers over the hand-written title and wondered just who the hell would take the time to write all this out. But then again, given the age of the book . . . maybe they hadn't had printers back then.

 _ **There and Back Again…**_

 _ **A Hobbit's Tale, By**_

 _ **Bilbo Baggins**_

 _ **The Lord of the Rings**_

 _ **By**_

 _ **Frodo Baggins**_

"How much longer we got to go in this thing, anyway?" he muttered partially to himself, partially to Laura, as he flipped to the back page of the book. He was about to keep turning past the few blank pages at the end when he caught the flash of the same handwriting at the bottom of one of the pages and stopped to read the inscription.

 _Laurelín, I don't understand why you requested to be removed from my story, but I've given the revised version to Sam. Here is the original version, with no accounts omitted._

 _Please stay with him for at least a little while after I've left. He has Rosie, Elanor, and little Frodo, but I fear the loss of both of us at once would be too much for his tender heart to bear._

 _I cannot thank you enough for your assistance on our journey._

 _May the light of the Valar shine upon you, always._

 _Fondest regards, Frodo_

Of course, she'd given him some damn historical account and not an actual book. Gladio wondered if any of them would write an account of their trip when this was all over. Would she carry it with her to share with someone else in however many thousands of years from now? It'd have to either be him or Iggy; Noct and Prompto would probably wanna make something dumb like a videogame or something about it. Still, it was worth putting some thought into.

With a new outlook and level of gravity, now that the characters were actually real people, Gladio reviewed what he'd read so far. He'd had his suspicions about the character Laurelín for a long time now, but it was only once he'd read the note that he'd remembered—her full first name _was_ Laurelín. He'd only heard her full, long-ass name once by a campfire the night they'd all lost everything, so he'd had more important things on his mind at the time. Feeling pretty bad about mocking the battles now, he flipped to where he'd last left off and began reading, even more eager to find out what had happened to Laura's friends after the Ring was destroyed. Much as he kept trying to concentrate on the story though, the annoying squeak of laser fire and trash talk coming from the other room was making it difficult.

"Hey," he called out. "Shut the door, will ya? Tryin' to read over here."

"Sorr-ee, Grandpa," Prompto said with a laugh, getting up to close the pocket doors between the bedroom and the parlor.

Gladio's eyes raced across the page faster and faster as Frodo and company set out from Minas Tirith to head back to Rivendell. He was so engrossed in what would happen on their journey back—there were just so many pages left for things to happen after the final battle—that he almost missed the soft sigh and puff of breath across his chest. But he hadn't, and it took a hell of an effort to keep from jumping out of his skin.

"Ignis."

Looking down, he saw two clear, blue, completely scourge-free eyes fluttering open.

* * *

"He's still not picking up," Noct said. "I'll send him another text and keep trying."

"I'm not surprised," Gladio said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "She said he'd feel it when she woke up, but she was too weak to make a connection. He's probably jumping over the godsdamn canals himself to get here."

Gladio had been pacing back and forth for the past forty-five minutes, impatient to get Iggy's return over with—because Iggy was gonna skin him alive with one of his daggers and turn his hide into a sparkly, tattooed button-down for him to wear out—hopefully at least on fancy occasions. He couldn't imagine what other reaction he was gonna get when Ig came back to find the bed empty and his formerly dead girlfriend gone.

When the door finally slammed open, it was almost like Iggy had warped to the bedroom, he'd gotten there so fast. Gladio froze mid-pace in front of the bed.

"Iggy," Gladio managed to get out, but Ignis had already seen the empty bed, had probably already deduced that the loss of whatever kinda telepathic connection had re-established in his head meant that she was gone. Iggy'd already whirled on Gladio, taking two long strides with clenched fists and fiery green eyes as he walked Gladio back against the wall behind him. Gladio was starting to think that whole skinning him alive thing wasn't beyond the realm of possibility; he'd never seen Iggy this pissed off, not even that one time he'd sneaked Noct out to a bar for his birthday and gotten injured defending him from a drunk asshole.

"Gladiolus Amicitia," he began in a dangerously low and threatening voice, but it seemed to grow in volume, fury, and even a little fear with each additional word, "you _promised_ me. Where. Is. My. WIFE?!"

Did he just . . . what the _fuck_? Despite the messenger of death currently staring him down, Gladio's eyes flickered briefly to where Noct and Prompto stood frozen, as though they too had stopped partway to reaching him when they'd heard the word 'wife' leave Iggy's lips. He quickly eyed Iggy's gloved hands, not remembering seeing a ring on them when he'd put his gloves on before leaving.

They'd known each other just shy of three months, when the fuck could this have possibly even happened? He tried to picture it—Iggy in that sparkly velvet tux of his and Laura in some shimmery white princess dress covered in diamonds . . . standing outside the gas station at Hammerhead or next to a pile of birdshit at Wiz's, and he just couldn't do it. Not only that, Iggy was still so damn young to be getting married, not even taking into account that Laura was laughably older than him and a different species.

Oh, Ramuh's rigid rod, they'd given Iggy and Laura an entire day free just before the battle; they hadn't done it then, had they? Had they only been married a single day before she died?

"Eyes forward!" Ignis barked. "I demand an answer."

"She had to leave, Ig," Gladio said quietly, hoping his tone would calm him down some. "She'd been in some kinda Time Lord healing coma, whatever the hell a Time Lord's supposed to be. Guess they look dead when they do that. She recovered just enough energy to leave so she could heal and recharge, but if she stayed here, this universe was gonna drain her and she was gonna die."

Watching Laura disappear before their eyes had really brought to light just how stupid Gladio had been in not beheading her when she'd been infected, even if everything had worked out for the best. Sure, she always could do shit with magic that none of them ever could, but he'd witnessed her turning translucent gold as she faded in and out, making a weird grinding wheezing sound before letting go of her solid form and dissipating into nothingness. No amount of chains, runes, or locked doors could've stopped that kind of power of the gods, and if daemons retained the powers they'd had in life, everyone on Eos could've been fucked because of his shitty decision.

Seemed like Iggy and Noct weren't the only ones who needed ass kicking now and again.

The fire extinguished immediately from Iggy's eyes as he stumbled backward to sit down hard on the edge of the bed behind him.

"No," he exhaled bleakly. "Though . . . I suppose it's no less than I deserve."

His entire body seemed to sag as he stared down at his hands in silence, his shoulders and back curling down and inward, and Gladio rushed on with the rest of her message so he'd understand there was no reason for this hopeless despair.

"She's coming back though. Said she'd have to time travel, so she can't give an exact time—something about temporal resistance and the Blinovitch Limitation Effect or some shit. I dunno. But within the next coupla days."

A bitter chuckle escaped Iggy's lips as he shook his head down at the floor. "You can't know that. The last time we spoke didn't exactly end on excellent terms. I . . . misjudged her grievously."

Even though he'd just voluntarily alluded to it, Gladio knew Iggy would never tell the full story of what had happened on that altar, but it must've been something pretty dramatic if he thought she'd leave him over it. Laura hadn't even left that day Gladio had come within a hair's breadth of slitting her throat after Insomnia fell. But whatever had happened, it might've been why she'd been so adamant about leaving proof of her return.

Gladio pulled the necklace out of his jacket pocket, taking a second to get one last look at the sparkling blue crystal, the mythril tree, and the shadow of the house key that was buried in the back. What was so damn important about this necklace for the both of them? Laura had worn it before they'd met—probably long before Iggy had even been born. Letting the pendant dangle from the chain, he held it out in front of Iggy's face so that it swung back and forth in front of his eyes.

"Here, she left this as her promise," he said as Iggy's head snapped up, and Gladio let go as Iggy grasped for the pendant, cradling it in his hands as though it were the most precious item in existence. "She told me to call you a fracking idiot and say that you forgot 'Scientia.'"

That particular part of her message hadn't made much sense to Gladio when she'd mentioned it, but the pieces were starting to come together now that the word 'wife' was involved. Prompto had told him after that first trip to the prison that only Laura's full name would release the clasp and that only Iggy knew what it was. It sounded like the moron had tried to remove it and forgotten to add his own damn name to the end of hers.

The wide-eyed look of hope and wonder in Iggy's eyes as he looked back up at Gladio just about stabbed him in the heart. "Really," he tried to remark in a casual tone, but Gladio wasn't buying it. "I suppose I hadn't considered . . .." He fell silent as he secured the chain around his neck, the pendant hanging just below his skull amulet, and grasped it tightly, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

"So!" Prompto interrupted the moment, skipping to the other bed, bouncing down on it, and crossing his legs. "Laura's alive! And she's gonna be back in the next few days, so we can all be happy now, right?"

"At least I'll have plenty to keep me busy in the meantime," Iggy said with a sigh. "There's a dispute going on about which government is to pay for the restoration efforts, the brick layers' union is demanding hazard pay for working in a post war-zone, and absolutely no one has done a survey as to the extent of the damages yet—let alone set up a timeline for repairs. The flood damage is nearly as considerable as the infrastructural damage."

"Yeah, that sound real interesting," Noct said in a low voice, sitting down next to Prompto on the bed, "But I just gotta ask . . . wife?"

"Ahh, yes. This wasn't how I intended to tell you," he began, smoothing out the fabric of his pants as he looked down at his lap. "That telepathic connection—a piece of her mind resides permanently in mine, and mine in hers. By the customs of her people, we're married."

Gladio had never figured Iggy to be the type to fall head over heels and start dating, fucking, then marrying a girl all in the span of three months. He'd thought theirs was just an intense first love, something that could, perhaps one day, grow into something more. But Iggy'd surprised the fuck out of them all more than once on this trip, and Gladio was starting to believe he hadn't known a single damn personal thing about the guy until they'd left. Maybe in addition to being a blade-wielding, element using, gourmet cooking, ballroom dancing, smartass, suave, manipulating motherfucking genius, he was also secretly a reckless, rebellious romantic.

But his shocking revelation really only brought into sharp relief just how fucked up these last two weeks had been for him. Gladio figured the loss of the head thing must've been hard on him, but he hadn't known it was some kinda permanent alien marriage connection. What must the loss of that physical embodiment of his relationship have felt like? Gladio didn't really wanna know. He imagined it was bad enough exchanging rings and losing a spouse to death, let alone brains.

"I'm really happy for you, Specs," Noct said in a small voice. "And . . . I'm so sorry for what I said the other day about you and Laura not being as close. Six, that must've sounded bad."

Gladio didn't know what Noct had said to Iggy, but he knew Noct was really able to stick his foot in it whenever feelings were involved. There hadn't been much time between Laura waking up and leaving, but Gladio'd noticed Noct had been a bit . . . off since she'd woken up. He'd known Noct had never been particularly close to Laura, so he'd thought it was just awkwardness at how far she'd gone in protecting them on the altar. But maybe it was more than that—jealousy, perhaps, that Iggy's wife had come back from the dead when Luna hadn't. It was an ugly emotion, but it was real—something Gladio couldn't blame Noct for feeling—as long as he didn't act on it.

"The fault was mine for not telling you, and for that I must ask your forgiveness," Iggy said, meeting Noct's eyes gravely. "There was a bit of an adjustment period after it happened, and then it hardly seemed appropriate to bring the matter up that day."

"'Adjustment period,'" Noct said, narrowing his eyes. "Was that what Cape Caem was all about?"

Iggy's gaze turned glittering and hard as he replied, "Yes, and the entire process was completely mutual, pre-planned, and voluntary, so I'll thank you not to blame her for my inadequacies during that time."

"You know," Prompto interrupted before Noct could respond, "we should really have a meeting once a week or something and make sure everyone's up to speed on all these revelations."

"Well I, for one, have nothing left to reveal," Ignis said tiredly. "My entire being has been laid bare these last two weeks, and yet I can't currently bring myself to care."

"Good," Gladio replied. "Hopefully that means you'll stop hiding shit from us, stop hiding your thing with Laura from us. Think we've all been through enough together now to prove that we're family."

The room fell into silence for several moments as they all nodded, careful not to make direct eye contact with anyone in particular.

"I was born in Niflheim," Prompto blurted out suddenly, and Gladio's eyes darted over to see him hunched over, his expression hidden as he stared down at his hands. "While we're confessing . . . not exactly something I could tell people growing up in Lucis."

Gladio looked over to Noct to see his reaction, but the Prince was only staring at Prompto in silence, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"You guys are like . . . the only friends I've ever known. I just hope that things can stay the way they were," Prompto continued in a low, trembling voice.

"Whatever," Noct scoffed. "Who cares where you were born?"

While Gladio held the exact same opinion, Noct's sheltered-ass upbringing in the Citadel, even his community service and public schooling in the wealthy and middle-class districts, kept him far away from immigrants that had come in before the borders had shut down or the Glaives brought in fresh from the outlands for their talent. Since leaving Insomnia, Gladio had been surprised to learn that the segregation and unrest had been even worse than he'd thought. Noct's ignorance wasn't all that shocking, as the kid often couldn't see past his own face most of the time, but Gladio would've thought Ig would've had a better overview of the political situation than that.

Had Prompto only been pretending to be surprised this whole time to cover up his origins? Gladio couldn't blame him for that, if so.

When they all got back to the Citadel and took over, that was gonna be one of the first things they took care of—making sure they, the ones in charge, didn't get so locked up in their Citadel towers that they were no longer in touch with the people.

"I don't see you turning against us. Not now, or ever," Iggy added with a slight quirk of the lips.

Ignorant and innocent as it was, Noct and Iggy's attitude was a good one to start off with as King and Hand, but they didn't really understand the magnitude of what Prompto had just confessed. They were all gonna have to do better recognizing the hardships others had had to go through because of things that couldn't be helped.

"You always got a place here with us," Gladio said, reaching over to slap Prompto hard on the back.

"Once this is all over," Noct said thoughtfully, "I say we break down the borders—come together as one nation. We're gonna make this world a better place. Whaddya say?"

The kid was thinking big, no doubt about it, almost like a king, but there were more than a couple of issues with such an idealistic view of things. Even Iggy was opening his mouth to bring the kid's big heart back down to reality, but Gladio caught his eyes and shook his head. There'd be time to let him know that Accordo, Tenebrae, and Niflheim would probably have some objections to being brought under Lucian rule, no matter how good his intentions. Hopefully, he was just referring to the outlands, though. In the meantime, maybe thinking like a king would get him to put that godsdamn ring on and actually get him to become one.

"Ever at your side."

"Always."

"You bet."


	57. Chapter 57

Regis leaned closer to the smooth, polished stone, inspecting the lines of the bust that were supposed to be familiar, as he had, in fact, seen his own face in the mirror at least a time or two before. Yet for all that he trusted Saxum's experience creating similar busts for the Lucis Caelum family for the past two generations, he couldn't help but wonder if his resting expression were truly so cold, so befitting of a future Lucii. That he should even have to endure this show of vanity was unfortunate. However, as all one hundred and twelve of his forebears had managed to find the time to have their official busts placed just outside the Hall of History, he supposed he could hardly be the first to break tradition.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked under his breath as he turned to Clarus. A lifetime of hushed conversations in this lofty, echoing throne room had taught them both well how to speak at just the right volume so as not to be overheard by whatever subject awaited his word on the dais below.

"I think you're getting old, and not even the ever-flattering Royal Artist can mask that fact anymore," Clarus said with a smirk.

"Thanks for the encouragement, old friend," he said, chuckling and shaking his head. "Still, it's better than the alternative."

Because the alternative wouldn't occur until Noctis was old enough to undergo his trials.

But no, as fresh as the wound still was, he couldn't dwell on such thoughts.

Clarus gave a little chuckle of his own, reaching out to tweak the nose of the bust. "One thing I'll never shield you from is the truth."

Turning toward Saxum and noting his back bent with the weight of time, his gnarled hands, and his knees that seemed to tremble beneath his trousers every now and then, Regis wondered if he would make it to the prodigious age the old sculptor had managed. Even if fate would have allowed for such a thing, he doubted he had the stubborn pride to do so. As many times as Regis insisted that Saxum sit on a bench off to the side as he and Clarus inspected his work, the old man had most respectfully declined, insisting that decorum required that he remain standing in the presence of royalty. Regis supposed it was a small mercy the old man hadn't insisted on genuflecting the entire time as the subjects of old.

He was about to inform Saxum that his services had been satisfactory and that he would be sending a messenger to his shop the following day to compensate him for his artistry when the door hidden in the alcove on the balcony to his left opened silently. A small, sandy-hair boy stepped out, carefully closing the door behind him without making a sound, but as Ignis realized he'd already caught Regis's attention, he froze and immediately dropped into a deep bow.

"Ignis," he greeted.

"Please forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty."

As always, there was a serious calm surrounding the boy, a wisdom that reflected the age he seemed to possess beyond the short nine years he had spent on this eos. Regis had seen that serene, rational, yet commanding presence in him even at three years old and knew that such a prodigy would be a perfect Hand for his somewhat boisterous infant of a son. Few knew of House Scientia's illustrious history, as the family had been cast into the anonymity of lower nobility after the fall of Solheim and Ifrit's betrayal—and had languished ever since in that purgatory. But the Lucis Caelum house was old enough to remember, and Regis by no means took the weight of their line less seriously simply because of something as silly as perceived wrongdoings. The union of Houses Scientia and Étoile, with its strong connections to the Fleurets, made the boy family—even if only distantly. When Caeli had suggested his nephew as a possible advisor and mentioned that Ignis had undergone their family's divine naming ceremony, becoming the first Ignis Scientia in their house in over three thousand years, Regis suspected that the very heavens had aligned to create the perfect advisor, especially after having met him.

Of course, he hadn't anticipated just how soon and how much the boy would have to undertake in the role after the death of his dear Aulea, and Astrals, the naming of his son as the Chosen. Regis wasn't quite aware what, precisely, the roles of Chosen King, Hand, Shield, and the Unnamed Soldier would require beyond a vague representation depicted in the painting just outside, but three of the four boys' fates had already been sealed, unbeknownst to them. His own bright, somewhat rebellious, precious boy and Ignis, the most dedicated and intelligent boy he'd ever encountered—who'd become almost as a second son to him—would at some point in their lives be stripped of their innocence and forced to march off to the ultimate war. And Clarus . . . the Amicitia family had already sacrificed so much in the name of Lucis Caelum; the strapping young Gladio would only be the latest in a very long line.

But such was the way of the world, was it not? Noct would find his own way to complete his journey, much as he himself had done all those years ago, whether his friends accompanied him on his mission or merely assisted at the end.

"Not at all, my boy. Not at all. Please, come closer," he said, beckoning him with a hand, and it was only at his words that Ignis straightened from his bow and stiffly approached. "Clarus and I would like your opinion on the Royal Bust."

Ignis approached the throne, slowly circling the temporary stand on which the statue had been placed for Regis's viewing convenience and leaning in to study the stone as though he were the one being evaluated for his artistic criticism abilities. After several moments, he stepped back and bowed his head.

"It's quite well-done, Your Majesty. I believe in the style of the Tonitrusian Era? And a very good likeness," he said in a quiet, genteel tone.

Clarus snorted, attempting to hold back his mirth and failing miserably, and Regis shot him a look before turning back to Ignis, who seemed upset at Clarus's reaction and was furrowing his brow in distress.

"I do hope I haven't inadvertently said something to offend. You have my most sincere apologies, if that is the case."

Wondering if the boy would ever get the chance to exercise those diplomatic skills of his before fate took over, Regis answered, "No, son. What is it you came here for?"

He knew the answer already—Noctis. Ignis never approached him for anything other than when Noctis's safety, wellbeing, or happiness were compromised beyond Ignis's precocious authority to influence.

"His Highness is feeling unwell after the blade warp lesson this afternoon and requests your company in his chambers this evening—if Your Majesty is available."

"How are the lessons progressing?" he asked, though he knew already that Noct's performance in his first lessons on his command of the Lucis Caelum powers left something to be desired.

Ignis seemed to hesitate only a moment before he responded truthfully. "I have my concerns about his proficiency, but it's still too early to tell."

"Thank you, and do send my regrets along, as I won't be able to visit this evening."

His son seemed to have noticed already that he was beginning to draw back, not only due to increased stirrings and whisperings from his contacts in Niflheim, but also because of his rapidly increasing enfeeblement. Perhaps he was being too soft on Noctis, but he didn't wish the boy to watch his father grow weak and brittle as he waited for his turn to do the same. Not that Regis's current tactic was without its own inherent suffering; Noctis would undoubtedly cease seeking his attention, and their already too-distant relationship would eventually grow cold. It was yet another aspect of fate Regis wasn't looking forward to.

"Of course—" Ignis began, but a shuffling and scurrying echoing below them made Ignis turn in alarm and step in front of Regis as though shielding him from whatever threat may have entered the throne room unexpectedly.

Perhaps the boy should have been born an Amicitia.

Adopting a calm visage so as to appear to have complete confidence in his Crownsguard, he stepped around both Ignis and Clarus, who had taken his position in front of the both of them.

The entire shift of Crownsguard was standing at the ready in a circle around where Saxum had once stood, their weapons pointing inward. From Regis's vantage point, he could see the top of a head, hooded in a dark blue velvet cloak that trailed on the floor around the figure. Blue-tinged black hair spilled out from beneath the hood, though the woman's face was completely obscured from his view, lowered as it was. At her feet, Saxum lay on his knees, his forehead touching the floor in fearful prostration

Regis was about to demand what had stopped the Guard from bringing her down when the light from the window caught the silvery gossamer-thin shimmer of ice in the air, which seemed to form a sphere around the woman and Saxum that the Guard could not penetrate. There existed no one in the kingdom that he knew of that could command magic to such a degree outside of his authority, not even the Auburnbries—except perhaps the Astrals. Still, it would be foolish of him to make assumptions.

"I assure you there is no need to take a hostage. If you have committed no crime beyond appearing in my throne room, you will be free to go when our conversation is over. Let us not allow matters to escalate into violence."

"Curious words coming from the first instigator of such," she replied in a dreamlike, accented monotone. If not an Astral, then she was clearly a member of high nobility—or a very skilled imitator. But her diction was slow, carefully enunciated, as though she weren't accustomed to speaking in this tongue. "My actions are borne of defense alone. I did not wish for your artist to be trampled due to what you all _believed_ to be my sudden appearance."

Regis glanced down at Ignis and paused. "Do I have your permission to dismiss the boy? He is of no importance to these negotiations."

The girl, for she did appear more a girl than a woman, looked up suddenly, her sharp, inhuman gaze locking immediately on Ignis, who stared back passively, unafraid. But Regis had grown somewhat alarmed, because whatever this visitor was, she wasn't human. Burning, glowing sapphire eyes lit up the unnatural darkness under her hood, casting an eerie light on her pale cheeks sparkling with flecks of bright snow, which was evidence enough, as he couldn't discern the rest of the features of her face.

Regis wasn't close enough to read this girl's aura, and he honestly saw no reason to until he heard her demands. He could, however, understand why Saxum had identified her as a god—there were only so many beings in the world with power such as hers, to be certain. But Regis was old and experienced enough by now to know that there lay secret pockets in the crevices of the world in which lurked arcane beings originating from a time before modern memory. Gilgamesh was only one of these. However, even these beings were merely a step below divinity and not to be trifled with.

But given his son's recent naming, she was probably a Messenger, or perhaps a High Messenger, which seemed more likely, given her display of power and what he could now see were Saxum's lips at the hem of her cloak. He'd never spoken to the Astrals beyond Bahamut in the Crystal, but he had heard of the Messenger that had taken up residence with Lady Lunafreya and of the woman's _relative_ normality. There seemed to be nothing human of this woman, however.

"That boy's importance can never be understated; however, he is, of course, free to go. As I have said, I take no hostages."

It was only as Regis turned to Ignis that the boy broke eye contact with the woman. "To your chambers, immediately," he said softly," and do not leave them until I've sent for you. Understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," he said with a bow before turning and striding to the side door without another glance back. But Regis watched the girl's gaze closely, noting that her sharp eyes followed Ignis's every movement in almost wistful concern as he passed the columns of the alcove and exited through the side door.

The gods had already laid claim to his son—what could they possibly want with Ignis?

As soon as the door behind Ignis had silently closed, the girl lowered her head and dropped to a crouch, provoking the Crownsguard into leaning forward, pressing the points of their various blades into the shield, which shimmered in protest.

"Back away, all of you," Regis commanded.

Ignoring everything beyond the walls of her protection, the girl laid her long-fingered, pale hands, which seemed to glow with a faint aura of bluish light, on Saxum's arms.

"Hello," she said gently, but that tone in her voice still sounded ethereal, almost distracted. "What is your name?"

"Saxum Rufus, Your Worship, your most humble servant at your service."

"Saxum Rufus . . . you need not bow to me. Allow me to . . . assist you in standing."

"Your Holiness, I simply couldn't—" he began, but he was already gazing enraptured up at her face as she aided him by the elbows to his feet.

The girl reached out to cup the man's cheeks, and Regis believed he saw the movement of a tender smile cross her lips from under the hood. "Old bones need not bend to true benevolence, Saxum Rufus. You are free to . . . do as your King commands."

Though she had shown no evidence of malevolence, Regis was eager to remove all innocent parties from the throne room before the mercurial nature of such an entity altered the rules of engagement.

"You are free to go, Saxum. I shall send a messenger to the shop tomorrow with your payment. Excellent work, as always, dear friend."

"Your Majesty," he replied with a bow before turning to the girl. "Allow me the honor of gazing upon the Mother's face one last time."

"One never knows what the . . . future may bring, Saxum Rufus," the girl replied sweetly, "but the flattery is most . . . appreciated. You had better do as your King commands." She tilted her chin to the side, and the iridescent shield disappeared. As Saxum backed out of the throne room, keeping his gaze locked on the High Messenger, she turned to watch him go for several moments before facing forward once more.

"To what do I owe the honor of such a visit?" Regis asked.

"Regis Lucis Caelum," she began in a grave, commanding tone, her distraction seeming to disappear. "I come in regard to Ignis Scientia."

"What of him?" Regis asked in concern. While he had not severed ties with the Six, his cooperation with them had become more of a reluctant necessity since the naming of his son as Chosen. Their cold willingness to sacrifice his effervescent, sweet child to the fate of the world had brought to light their cruelty. But even he, with the power of one hundred and twelve of his ancestors at his back, could not hope to challenge the will of divinity. That they would be asking directly after his second 'son,' so soon after demanding his first, sent a shiver of unease through him at what more the gods might require of him before this accursed endeavor was completed.

"The stars watch over Ignis Scientia, for he is most beloved by the goddess. Tell me, what is his current age?"

"He has just turned nine."

"Then this is the year that the gods have need of him."

"What more will you take from me?" Regis demanded, though he kept his tone low and calm. "What more will you take from Noctis?"

"Ignis Scientia will be returned to you both. When the trees don their royal raiment before their rest, the Glacian will come for the boy. For two celestial rotations, he will appear to be missing." Her voice grew cold and stern as she continued, "Not a single member of your family or staff will make mention of his absence to him when he returns, or they will suffer my wrath. Do you understand?"

"For what need could the gods possibly have the boy?" he asked, knowing she would be unlikely to answer.

"That is not knowledge that mortal ears need hear, save Ignis himself. It is imperative that not a single soul breathe a word of his absence or experience to him or one another."

"I understand. Will he be all right?"

A burning pain seemed to radiate up his left hand as swirls of gold appeared in the goddess's eyes, but it disappeared when he took a step back—a power not meant to be wielded by mortals, perhaps?

"The tides of time ebb and flow concurrently. He will be returned to you, he is returning to you, he has been returned to you. All will be, is, and was well with him," she said in a faraway voice. As the gold faded from her glowing eyes, she continued, "I have said what I came to say, and with that, I take my leave."

She took a step back, but Regis held out a hand, saying, "Wait, what of my son?"

Those eerily glowing eyes met his again, and he regretted not descending for this meeting so that he might have caught a better glimpse of the goddess's face.

"When next you see me, our topic will only pertain to the matter of Noctis. I would ask that you be more forthcoming, but I know you will not. Until we have met again, Regis Lucis Caelum."

Regis was about to protest her leave taking when she looked up to the ceiling, that gold appearing in her eyes once more as it overtook her body, transforming her corporeal form into swirling wisps of sparkles. An incongruous whining, grinding sound filled the air, echoing off the polished floors and high ceiling of the throne room until she disappeared.

As the Crownsguard warily took up their usual posts in the alcoves along the wall, Clarus stepped closer and said, "What do you make of it?"

Regis blew out a breath of a bitter laugh through his nose. "From the gods? Trouble. Only trouble, my friend."

"Do you intend to obey her instruction?"

"As usual, what choice have I?"


	58. Chapter 58

Though it was terribly ill-mannered of him to do so, Ignis took a furtive sip of his Ebony as the foreman of one of the brick laying companies finished his speech and sat back down in his seat at the long conference table. At least he hadn't opened the can in the middle of the man's discussion as the woman three seats down from him had—he wasn't completely uncivilized. He was unaccustomed to these more lax, informal rules of order—they had even provided _snacks_ of all things, as though this were First Year. He half expected the First Secretary to call nap time after two hours.

Taking another quick sip before the next person began speaking, this time about the city-wide transportation issue and the need to replace gondolas with the vaporetti system, Ignis swallowed quickly and put down his Ebony to take notes, suppressing the physical response to the shiver that seemed to lick its way down his spine in every moment since the day she . . ..

Ebony—black and dead like his heart—lacking flavor, lacking depth, like everything else he'd forced down his throat in an effort to satisfy Gladio . . . and now Noct in these past two weeks. The world had been painted in shades of black and grey since that day. He was dripping with that dull flatness, like the scourge that kept choking him in his sleep and coating his clothes as he donned his uniform every morning, now transformed to the black of mourning as he grieved for his wife and his king.

He'd tried his best to tell Noct as obliquely as he could of his fate, but he'd turned coward, fearful of breaking Time and disrespecting Rose's memory when his loose lips ended the world after she'd died to save it. But Noct's words only further convinced Ignis that the Prince was beginning to realize his higher calling, to pay whatever cost so that those who had walked to their gallows had not done so in vain. He would need to tell Noct at some point, perhaps when he appeared closer to the age that he had been in Ignis's vision. He didn't think he could bear to dash Noct's hope when there was apparently still such a long road ahead of them. For now, he was the sole silent bearer of foreknowledge—the bearer of Rose's mantle—and he was adopting the same practices for which he had once cursed her. Perhaps, by the time Noct's final days had reached them, Rose would have awakened from death to assure him that time wouldn't simply stop if he spoke of his vision.

It had taken days for him to realize just how much of his life existed because of her—things that made him happy—his sleep, his time, the coffee he'd grown to prefer, the bread she made from flour not of this universe, or the scent of pine mixed with kithairon. These things were merely illusions tied to her existence, and now that she was gone, they would never exist again save for in his imperfect memory. With every recollection that passed across the backs of his eyelids, he would frantically scrabble after each nuance, each scent, each sound, each emotion, writing everything down so that he wouldn't ever forget a single moment.

Even as he lay by her body every evening, basking in the feeble glow of her golden aura, he would often gasp awake, clutching desperately for the silent necklace in an effort to contact _someone_ who would reassure him that it hadn't all been a dream, that he had once been happy. And then he would lie awake, his ear pressed to her still chest, punishing himself by inhaling against the ache in his lungs until he felt as though he would break apart from the pain. The worst had been those first two nights after they'd brought her body back to the hotel, where he couldn't sleep, and it had been tears and whispered words into the ears of the dead that he'd pressed into her, desperate to wash himself clean of that bloody bath and to let her know how inconsolably sorry he was.

Since then, he felt as though he were delicate, constantly on the verge of shattering, as though he were a spun ornament that had been dropped so as to develop a fatal unseen crack and was just waiting for the right touch to break him into a thousand pieces. The sting of Gladio's and Noct's cruel words—even the occasional remark from Prompto—echoing in his ears hadn't exactly helped, but they didn't understand. It was his fault they didn't understand, but he would endure any spears flung in his direction if it meant not having to set the record straight, to admit just how spectacularly he'd failed.

"And in the matter of funding, I'm sorry to say that Accordion funds will not be nearly enough to cover the devastation from the goddess and the Empire. Ignis Scientia, Hand of the King of Lucis, has prepared some possible solutions for us," the First Secretary announced, and the entire table turned to face him.

Gathering the papers for his report, Ignis stood.

Despite his mind's insistence on clinging to the dimming and distant happiness of his past and the misery that was now his present, Ignis knew he must move on. His wife was dead, and her death had been entirely his fault. He knew he would never so much as glance at another again—a widower for life—but at the very least, he'd gotten to experience her light, that moment of completeness before she burned out like a dying star.

He must endure—it was expected of him, and he always did that which was expected of him because someone always expected something of him, everything of him. It was his responsibility to appear as though everything were all right, a skill he had managed and excelled at his entire life. Noct was in the same boat as he, and it was imperative that he appear capable of handling the consequences of his actions for the Prince's sake.

"Thank you, First Secretary. The truth of the matter is that all those willing to offer aid have long been at war with Niflheim and thus have little in the way of funds. Thus, we will have to employ creativity to bring Altissia back to her former glory. I recommend drawing carpenters and other craftsmen in through incentive programs, which I've outlined on page three of the report you received at the beginning of the meeting.

"Additionally, Altissia boasts a relatively low daemon population, which would be a fine point to make when attempting to attract possible craftsmen . . .."

It was the weakest, most feeble spark, and the bridge a tenuous thread of connection, but after the weeks of shivering and shuddering in the dark and cold, she may as well have been a bonfire.

 _Rose!_

But the sound of it seemed to echo in his own head, the foundation of the bridge too weak to support his call. He would need to leave—now, no matter how impertinent it was to do so.

"I'm afraid I must humbly beg your pardon," he managed as evenly and with as much dignity as he could, recalling that at least twenty-seven dignitaries and foremen were staring up at him. "A life-or-death matter has just come to my attention, and I must leave immediately to see to it. You will find all my observations and solutions are thoroughly outlined and explained in my report."

Gathering his things, he rushed out of the door toward the Leville.

* * *

It wasn't until Ignis's peripheral vision caught that flash of blue and silver dangling in front of him that he began to feel the shattered shards of his heart begin to piece themselves back together and the dark thread and bridge in his head ache a little less. Ignis may have betrayed his wife to her death, but that was no reason to leave Eilendil behind—unless she truly was going to return. He'd attempted several times over the past week to contact the dragon, but as he was not telepathic and they did not share a bond, he was unsurprised to find only silence. He had hoped, however, that the dragon would have thought to reach out to him; after all, Eilendil had lost his lifelong bond partner as well.

He was therefore unsurprised to hear nothing as he grasped Eilendil's heart between his palms, but there was something warming in his chest—hope—that she would return soon, and he would at least have the opportunity to make reparations for the unforgiveable. That he hadn't been able to remove the necklace in the first place proved that she hadn't forgiven him for breaking his life-oath to her, and rightly so. She may never forgive him his transgressions.

Or so he thought, until he heard Gladio's words.

"She told me to call you a fracking idiot and say that you forgot 'Scientia.'"

Ignis whipped his eyes up to Gladio's, certain that he'd misheard. Scientia? Oh, Rose, she had cared _that_ much for him that she had been willing to permanently add his name to her own? He couldn't help it—that flash of prideful ownership at the thought of her carrying his name, of her _wanting_ to carry his name.

"Really," he remarked, trying for casual indifference, but the joyous laughter that was bubbling up in his lungs was making his vocal cords tremble as he attempted to stifle it. No doubt Gladio thought him mad. "I suppose I hadn't considered . . .."

To cover up the heat he felt spreading to his cheeks, he ducked his head under the guise of putting the necklace on, but he found he had to close his eyes and grasp at the pendant the moment it touched his skin because the sensation of a voice in his head, if not a presence, was something he had not felt for two weeks.

 _Ignis Scientia._

 _Eilendil!_

He was going to ask, demand, beg for why the dragon hadn't contacted him at all in the last week, but he noted the weariness in his voice. Was it possible for a disembodied mind to grow fatigued? Given the state of his own thoughts, he supposed it was more than likely.

 _Are you all right?_ he asked the dragon.

"At least I'll have plenty to keep me busy in the meantime," Ignis said to the others with a sigh before listing all that had been covered in the meeting—the part he'd been present for, at least.

 _No,_ the dragon admitted distastefully. _For the last two of what you call weeks, I have poured my every resource into keeping that fool of a woman alive._

 _Then you should have left with her to regain your strength. You can't do so here, can you?_

 _I cannot. However, I offered to stay behind._

As Noct sat down on the bed next to Prompto, he asked, "But I just gotta ask . . . wife?"

 _Why would you offer such a thing?_

Ignis couldn't imagine a single reason for Eilendil to stay behind except for his benefit, and he had gotten the impression that the dragon didn't care much for him or his species, even as the enormous and somewhat intimidating creature had allowed him to ride on his back. He would have sooner believed Rose had asked him to stay behind, even if it was just as out of character for her to ask someone to make a sacrifice on her behalf.

 _Why do you think, human?_ he growled impatiently. _Would you have considered any other trinket she could have left behind with such weight?_

Though Ignis knew immediately his answer, he chose to fully concentrate on Noct's question, as he deserved an explanation and sincere apology for his secrecy regarding his marriage. Rose had been right: he should have told them as soon as it had happened, as the delay had only made it more and more difficult over the passing weeks for him to confess.

 _No, I wouldn't have._

 _Remember, Ignis Scientia, you are not the first who has loved her and betrayed her._

Indeed, that was certainly so. Though he was loath to compare their two sins, Ignis reluctantly admitted that Eilendil's betrayal had been . . . perhaps on the same level or worse than his own, and yet he had long ago been forgiven and even been defended against Ignis's now hypocritical outrage.

The idea gave him hope that everything could be all right.

 _All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again. I have traveled with her long enough to learn that nothing, even the darkest of nights, is the first of such._

That was a curious thing to say. _What do you mean by that?_

 _Just as I say, Ignis Scientia. There is a poem from the Doctor's future memories:_

 _Demons run when a good man goes to war._

 _Night will fall and drown the sun when a good man goes to war._

 _Friendship dies, and true love lies._

 _Night will fall, and the dark will rise when a good man goes to war._

 _Demons run but count the cost; the battle's won, but the child is lost._

 _Laurelín was that child—River Song, Harry Potter, Data Soong, Frodo Baggins, Lee Adama, Anakin Skywalker . . . even Ignis Scientia. War murders the childhood of all—kills friendship, love, life. You are fortunate that she is a reckless idiot that will forgive anyone she loves—as she did me._

There was, of course, another way to interpret that poem, one that involved Noct and his destiny, but as Ignis seemed to be doing more and more often these days, he shoved the thought aside.

After confession hour, dinner, cleaning up, laundry, and picking up the bedroom, Ignis took up his evening residence at the desk in the corner while the others readied themselves for bed. Their finances, despite not having recently collected any bounties, were doing surprisingly well, likely because the First Secretary had reserved the entire floor of the deserted hotel for whatever use they saw fit in exchange for Ignis's insights and the others' volunteer efforts on the temporary bridges. They'd grown used to sleeping in tight quarters, however, and the suite was hardly as cramped as the tent. He had a feeling that the restless insecurity they were all experiencing after the battle was the true reason no one had chosen to seek out his own room. Who would have thought that they all would have grown as close as to need each other like this?

He wondered how lonely it must be for Eilendil, without a body to experience the world and separated from Laura, with no one to share comfort after such a harrowing experience.

 _Eilendil? Are you still there?_ he asked as he stood, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his shoulders in an effort to relieve the tightness. Though he likely wouldn't sleep at all this evening, he was certainly looking forward to getting under the covers, perhaps lessening that constant tingling shiver that always seemed to be trickling down his spine. Though it had attenuated somewhat at the reappearance of Rose's thread and their bridge, the darkness of it had still left him feeling cold and empty.

Tenuous as their connection was, he and Eilendil could only share messages when they were directed at one another, and even then, only when the dragon was listening out for them, as Ignis couldn't reach beyond his own head to send them. The situation wasn't ideal. Ignis believed that the dragon had retreated into his own mind for the evening, and he was heading toward the en suite to get ready for bed when Eilendil finally answered.

 _I am still here, Ignis Scientia._

 _Have you ever been separated from her like this before?_

There were several moments of silence, and Ignis had just accepted that he was going to refuse to answer when he finally replied, _Not since I was a hatchling._

That meant that for the first time in his existence, every sensory organ Eilendil used to interact with the world around him, infrequently though he seemed to use it, had been cut off. Even for a being so old and experienced, the fear, chill, and disorientation at the loss must have been terrifying, to say the least—an ordeal he had volunteered to endure for Ignis's benefit alone.

Though he and Laura had often used their mid-level connection for sexual purposes, it hadn't always been so. Perhaps allowing the dragon access to his surface senses and thoughts would provide some means of comfort, even if the current state of his head was likely a mess. It seemed the least Ignis could do.

As he turned on the bathroom light and summoned his pajamas, Ignis said almost casually, _I'm not certain if this is a breach in some rules of your society, and please forgive the impertinence of this offer if it's somehow inappropriate, but you are welcome to deepen the connection, if you wish._

He had gotten dressed and brushed his teeth, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror, before Eilendil finally responded with, _Never in my life have I connected with another being in such a way._

Ignis remained silent, allowing the dragon to work through whatever thoughts and emotions he was experiencing. This _was_ an offer of great weight, perhaps bordering on too personal and inappropriate, had his people still been alive to judge him for it. But Ignis was learning from experience that pain and loneliness endured for long enough could drive any being to extremes.

 _Needy humans, I shall if you are incapable of being alone._

As he settled into the sheets and wrapped Rose's blanket around himself, Ignis had to roll his eyes in the dark at the proud creature's necessity to save face. Even as he folded his glasses to place on the bedside table, he could feel the weight of Eilendil's consciousness hovering just outside his mind, waiting desperately for permission to enter.

 _Go on, then,_ he replied, doing his best to relax.

He was beginning to assume that each being that entered his mind (and precisely how many of those would do so in his lifetime?) had a distinct feeling, unique as a personality. Eilendil seemed to slither into his mind, rough and coarse like the more delicate scales of his underbelly, and curl into his consciousness like a cat. To his disappointment, Eilendil wasn't warm or bright like Rose and thus did nothing to alleviate that ache in him, but it was comforting not to be alone in his grief for the same woman nevertheless. But the heartache and weight of the dragon's consciousness in his felt . . . almost too heavy, too vast for him grapple with as Eilendil's thoughts and emotions raced by too quickly for even Ignis's Intuition to pick up on.

At his thoughts, Eilendil drew back a little, lessening the somewhat suffocating weight in his head.

 _You humans are so fragile. And is this truly all you can see at night? It is no wonder you are all afraid of the dark._

 _Well, if you're going to complain . . .._

 _It was merely an observation. You are fatigued, Ignis Scientia. Allow me to put you to sleep._

Sleep. Did such a thing still exist? He'd been managing two hours or so each night for the last two weeks despite going to bed soon after everyone else, and though exhaustion seemed to weigh him down like a stifling blanket, relief never seemed to come as he lay down and stared at the ceiling with an empty head and heart. It seemed that, after having been given a taste of a well-rested, healthily caffeinated body, he was incapable of functioning adequately as he had once done back in Insomnia, and he would need at least some alleviation if he was to undergo the conversation that needed to be had with Rose when she returned.

 _Please._

 _Then sleep, Ignis Scientia,_ Eilendil replied as Ignis felt his eyes grow heavy. _I shall be here when you awaken._

* * *

It was the spark in his brain that roused him from sleep, immediately clearing away any drowsiness as he bolted upright and flung the blanket aside. Completely unconcerned at the possibility of waking Noct, as it was a nearly impossible feat even when he was deliberately aiming to do so, Ignis swung his legs out and stood, striding toward the front door. But he froze when he realized that the bridge between them was still dark, and he couldn't truly pinpoint a location from her golden thread.

 _Eilendil, what does it mean?_

It was nearly a full minute of standing stock still in the parlor, his blood seeming to itch in his veins as he fought the urge to fidget, before Eilendil answered.

 _She has returned to this universe, but she is speaking to your king in your past._

Eilendil sent him an image through Laura's eyes: that heartbreakingly familiar throne room, with its polished onyx staircases that wound up to the focal point that was the gold and onyx throne—only Laura's view of the seat of the King was obscured. Over the heads of an entire shift of Crownsguard pointing their weapons in her direction, Ignis could clearly identify His Grace Clarus Amicitia, young enough that his hair hadn't yet gone completely grey, standing with a wide defensive posture in front of a similarly young King Regis. Peering out from between the two men was . . . a much, much younger version of himself.

Ignis remembered that day clearly—the otherworldly figure appearing suddenly in the throne room; those overly-large, eerie eyes glowing subtly from underneath a dark hood; how they seemed to bore into the core of his very being as her soft, careful voice informed everyone in the entire throne room, including the King, that Ignis's importance could never be understated. Given the way Master Rufus was prostrated at her feet, she clearly had the authority of opinion. He recalled the wondrous rush of pride in his heart that this powerful being he'd never met seemed to instantly recognize his efforts and potential.

But until that moment, Ignis had never made the connection that the visit from the goddess had been solely for him, that the woman had been the same he had met out in Leide, the same he had met as an adult in the throne room. She had been wild, inhuman, borderline frightening in that minute he'd seen her—cool and detached instead of warm and cheeky as she so often seemed to be when infiltrating places she shouldn't have been.

 _What's happened to make her like that? What's wrong with her?_

 _The price of her crime. She will need your assistance when she returns._

 _What do you mean by that?_ he asked in alarm as he headed toward the shower.

If Rose was to be returning to them soon, he would need to have everything ready before she arrived. Despite his remorse for his actions, they would still have to battle their way through the serious conversation he knew was coming, and even if she forgave him completely for his transgressions, he still had questions that would be difficult for her to answer. He'd thought long and hard since she'd left, imagining the worst possible answers she could give and finally concluding that he would forgive even those responses in respect to the hardest lesson he'd ever learned—that of their highest calling. But judging by her appearance all those years ago and Eilendil's ominous words, there was yet another obstacle for them to overcome.

 _As usual, you accept the sacrifice without asking the cost. She is bound by more rules than you could possibly know, child. She is tied to the ground by them. Yet she will always shatter them for those in her hearts, no matter the consequences. Do not shatter her hearts again, Ignis Scientia._

 _I rather thought her_ _ **dying**_ _for two weeks was the cost. Is she all right?_ As he stepped into the shower, he tried to push at the wall between them, to contact her, to check on her, but the bridge, though sturdy and solid once more in his head, remained dark and veiled. She had told him that their bond would transcend time and space, but not dimensions. Why couldn't he contact her now if she was back in this universe?

 _She will be well with time. You cannot speak to her because you are the inferior partner who expressed interest in parting ways when last you spoke. Procedure dictates that you solve the matter before attenuating your bond as much as is possible, but she was forced to do so before you could complete the process. She will not establish contact until you have physically given her permission to do so._

Ignis closed his eyes against the warm spray of the water hitting the top of his head and running down his back in rivulets, warming his skin but doing nothing to alleviate the cold he felt in his bones. If he had just kept a handle on his emotions that day, he could be speaking to her now. Perhaps, if he had kept a handle on himself, he could've figured everything out in time, and none of this would have happened at all.

 _Why were we cut off so abruptly? Was it because of the Chancellor's spell?_ He tried his best to keep the jealousy out of his thoughts as he remarked, _It sounds as though you were able to maintain contact._

 _She was infected the moment the spell hit her, and she cut down on the bond as much as she could in case the disease could be passed to you. I have no body to infect, and thus did not need to be cut off._

As Ignis emerged from the shower and went through his daily morning routine—shaving, doing his hair, checking over his finger and toenails, and plucking any stray hairs in his brow line—he tried not to let his eyes linger too long on the three scars that remained on his face despite his best attempts to heal them with his own magic. To those not in the know, he appeared to be just another man sporting the marks of war—a soldier, a survivor—which was what he supposed he was now. To him, however, they were a reminder of his failure, his stupidity, his betrayal every time he looked in the mirror.

 _If they upset you so, ask Laurelín to heal them._

 _I can't ask that of her,_ he growled back, pressing his lips together against the raised scar there. _She's healed me quite enough for one lifetime._

 _Are all humans this dense? It will upset her that they upset you. A night's rest is all it will require in payment, and stars know she sleeps far more than she needs to in order to match your schedule regardless._

As much as he couldn't find it in himself to argue with the dragon's logic, so much depended on how she was when she returned, how _they_ would be when she returned—so very soon now.

 _I'll think about it._

* * *

"How long do you estimate until Altissia can handle the full capacity of its citizenship, Mr. Scientia?" the First Secretary asked, and Ignis suppressed the desire to heave a weary sigh. He'd covered this information quite thoroughly in the report he'd left in the meeting two days ago, and she would know this answer if she had taken the time to read it for herself.

After preparing breakfast, waking the others, and fixing a hole in the seam of Noct's trousers, Ignis had been most certainly reluctant to leave the room yesterday morning, knowing that Rose was back in the same universe and would be returning at any moment . . . until Eilendil informed him that he was being time dense. Even if she left Insomnia immediately in the Eternal Now, when she landed could be immediately or days from that moment from Ignis's point of view. It had been for the best to simply resume his routine, frustrating though it was.

Though Ignis had masterfully kept up the façade of professional attentiveness, he'd barely been able to pay attention in yesterday's meetings with that dull spark glowing in his mind, and he believed his impatience for her return was beginning to leak into his dealings with the reconstruction committee today as the hours passed by with no evidence of her arrival. Perhaps the inability of the committee to simply _read_ what was in front of them was also responsible for grating at his typically mythril nerves.

"As stated in my report," he began—perhaps somewhat passive aggressively—"the true infrastructural damage is mainly limited to the Northern Isle, so your main problem lies in repairing the flood damage on the first floors of the majority of your buildings and, most importantly, repairing the city's many bridges."

Leafing through his stack of reports, he found the booklet he'd put together regarding Altissian transportation. "Now, according to last year's census numbers, employment stats, and tourism data, even the most efficient of vaporetti schedules won't compensate for the loss of bridges. I estimate the city could hold no more than thirty percent of its full capacity currently, with the current rate of bridge repairs taking up to ten years to see the city fully restored."

"Ten years?!" the First Secretary exclaimed as a wave of indignant murmuring spread throughout the group.

Eilendil's voice cut through the din, _Ignis Scientia, why are you telling her this?_

 _I'll not sugarcoat the results to make her feel better about her situation. She has a long, difficult journey ahead of her._

 _Then do not coat your words in sugar. 'For the Night when All comes to Naught,' your Cosmogony has said. You have seen the future and are above time now, Ignis Scientia, the harbinger of ill news. Your eyes see the darkness which the rest of man does not. Tell them._

As Ignis's weary eyes roamed over the group of people arguing and gesticulating at one another, he realized that Eilendil was right. He'd been thinking so narrow-mindedly, looking just around the corner for fear of putting the pieces together and seeing what was on the horizon for them all. He'd been thinking like the human child that he was instead of the prophet, the bearer of foreknowledge that he had now become. The idea made him feel so very old. But as much of a curse as the foreknowledge was, it was also a gift, for he had been placed in the position to best prepare his fellow man for the oncoming darkness.

Since the death of the Oracle, the rumors regarding longer nights had been increasing. Ignis had been corresponding with Sania Yeagre, following her unpublished research closely and studying the words in the Cosmogony carefully; there was clearly a correlation between the darkening sky and the darkness that Noct would die defeating someday. If they weren't to finish this as soon as they got the Crystal back, Eos may very well lose daylight, leaving island nations such as Accordo stranded without means of providing for themselves. If the people were to survive, a different strategy needed to be undertaken, and a brave soul had to be the one to propose it.

"Let's be frank, Madame First Secretary. As nights grow longer and the daemon populations continue to rise, production in both Lucis and Niflheim slows to a crawl, and basic goods become more and more difficult to obtain, it will only grow impossible to maintain any sort of standard of living here, dependent as you are on shipping. I recommend encouraging citizens to stay on the mainland until the matter has been settled."

As Ignis's final words were drowned out in a roar of protest from at least two dozen throats, assaulting his ears and encouraging a throbbing headache to take up residence in his temples, the spark in his head grew to a filament of glowing wire.

His wife had returned.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Demons Run poem from Doctor Who, of course.


	59. Chapter 59

Gladio, Noct, and Prompto were all on high alert, ready to summon their weapons at a moment's notice as the porter led them downstairs. Gladio wished Iggy would answer his gods damn phone at times like these, but maybe the fact that he _wasn't_ answering his phone was a clue that the stranger waiting for them downstairs was exactly who they were expecting it to be. Still, he didn't see why Laura hadn't just come up to the room with whatever power she always used when sneaking around.

"She said she knew you and that you were expecting her, but no one recognized her," the porter said as they reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped. His voice dropped to a near whisper as he said, "She seemed . . . well, you'll see her. Given all that's happened, it didn't seem safe to just send her up." The guy gave them all a wide-eyed look and pointed to the dark wall underneath the stairs where they'd once checked out Umbra's amulet.

"No. That was the right thing. Thanks," Noct said, but Gladio hadn't spared the porter a second glance since he'd spotted the back of the dark figure standing in the shadows. He couldn't see much, which he supposed was kinda the point, since the porter had implied that something was wrong with the stranger. All he could tell was that it was a figure about Laura's height wearing a long, dark cloak with the hood up. But the second Gladio stepped away from the stairs, he knew it was Laura. That weird feeling deep in his bones and the overwhelming urge to summon a weapon washed over him, just as it had those first few days out of Insomnia. Judging by the way Noct and Prompto's steps faltered, they'd felt it too, and the three of them exchanged a wary glance before standing to block her from view of the rest of the lobby. Gladio had a feeling they were gonna need to, cause this was no doubt gonna be weird alien shit, as usual.

"Laura?" Noct asked through gritted teeth. No doubt the kid was probably in pain, as it seemed her energy thing always affected Noct more than anyone else.

The figure's shoulders hitched up and down with a sigh, as though she was steeling herself, and turned slowly to face them.

"Holy shit. Laura? What happened to you?" Gladio blurted out before wincing. That probably hadn't been the best way to react to her appearance.

Prompto reached out a tentative hand toward her shoulder but then grimaced a little as he pulled back. "Um . . . are you okay?"

Those eerie glowing blue eyes, seemingly too large for her face, fully dilated, and tilted at an angle, moved slowly as she focused on each of them one by one.

"I will be well with time," she said in a dreamy, faraway tone, her gaze unfocusing as she seemed to stare through them. "How long has it been since last I was here?"

"Um, you were here a couple of days ago," Noct said. "Why? How long's it been for you?"

Laura hesitated before replying, "Let us not do this here. Am I permitted upstairs?"

"Totally!" Prompto said. "Why wouldn't you be? Just cause you're all . . . weird and stuff . . .."

Laura dropped her head and strode past them, heading for the stairs. "How I have missed you all," she said in a small, amused voice.

Exchanging one final glance at one another, the three of them followed behind her, and even Gladio had to lengthen his stride a little to keep up as she walked briskly down the hall and up the other set of stairs, the blue velvet of her cloak catching the light from the windows as it billowed out behind her. Girl sure knew how to do the dramatic fashion thing, that was for sure.

"We should call Iggy," Gladio muttered as he pulled out his phone.

"That will not be necessary. He heard my mind as soon as I arrived. He shall be here momentarily."

"So you've been here a while then?" Prompto asked as she stopped next to the suite door and stared at the carpet while Noct fished in his pocket for the key.

"Yes, for thirty-two of your minutes . . .," she trailed off as Noct opened the door and gestured her inside first. "The minds crowding . . . so close. It becomes difficult to travel, difficult to think. And given the reactions I have received, I did not wish to startle you by appearing at your door."

Standing in the middle of the parlor, she turned and raised her hands to the edges of her hood, and it was only then that Gladio noticed her hands. Not only were her fingers just this side of being too long to be considered human, her skin seemed to glow with a pale-blue aura, even in the daylight, that made it look like she was standing under a full moon. As she lowered her hood, he could see that her facial features were more angular, cat-like, and her cheeks were speckled with what looked like sparkling glitter.

If she hadn't looked like Shiva before, she sure as fuck did now.

Laura's blinked slowly, her long black lashes nearly touching her cheeks as she shook her head like she was clearing it. "To answer your question, I fear it took me much longer than anticipated to heal. The time magic . . . was depleted. Twelve years, forty days, seventeen hours, thirty-two minutes, and twenty-seven seconds passed before I could travel once more."

"Holy fuck, Princess," Gladio murmured under his breath.

Twelve years . . . he was surprised she even remembered to come back to them after that long. And what about Iggy? Yeah, they were married and had some kinda alien head connection, but they'd been in some kinda major fight before she left for over a decade. How could any relationship, especially one only three months old, endure a separation like that? And if her undead zombie ice princess appearance was anything to go by, she sure as hell hadn't been asleep all that time.

"Well that's . . . specific," Prompto said quietly.

"Why do you look like that?" Noct asked. "What happened to you?"

"I returned home. I did not wish to remain there in an alien skin." She frowned, a furrow creasing between her brows as her tone grew hesitant and vulnerable. "Ignis once expressed interest in seeing this form." Her eyes dropped to the floor as her voice grew quieter, "The humans of our world always found our form pleasing. Does it not please you? Perhaps it will not please him either . . .."

"No, sorry," Noct interrupted her. "If Iggy's expecting it, I'm sure it's fine."

"You just surprised us is all, babe," Gladio said with an encouraging smile, but he was still uneasy at her transformation. How the hell were they gonna stay under the radar with fucking Shiva sitting next to them on the train to Gralea? He already knew she could take care of the energy thing with time, but they were gonna draw a hell of a lotta attention with her looking like that anywhere they went.

"Please, do not be concerned. I shall return to the state with which you are familiar by the time we set off again." Her eyes seemed to wander around the room for a moment before finally focusing on Gladio. "Apologies. I have not been among mortals for quite some time. Your minds are all so close and flitting. It is . . . distracting."

"Yeah, and um . . . sorry, but I kinda have that feeling, you know?" Prompto said as he bounced on his toes, grimacing. "Like I wanna kill you again. Sorry."

"Yes. I will need to realign. Ignis can assist, if he is willing."

Her brow furrowed again as she looked down at the ground, and Gladio had to wonder—had she forgotten what kinda guy Iggy was after all those years? Or was this about whatever had happened on that altar to make him so unsure about her ever coming back? Gladio hadn't really put the pieces together until that moment, but damn . . . a twelve-year separation after a huge . . . _something_ had to be eating her alive. Much as he wanted to pull her into a hug, his twitchy hands and galloping heart were telling him he shouldn't get any closer in case he pulled a Noct and stabbed her.

He decided to settle for encouragement, even if he wasn't sure how Ig was gonna feel about any of this—including how much he might or might not feel that sense of _wrong_ they were all currently experiencing. "You know he will be."

"Wait, so you've been with your people? I thought they were all, you know . . . dead," Prompto said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Take it easy there," Gladio warned.

But Laura showed no emotional reaction to her extinct race as she replied in an even, careful tone, "I returned home, but not to my people. The air there is filled with very old magic . . . to promote healing. The years were passed with no one but Therinal in my head."

"Therinal?" Noct asked.

"My tree. He cannot speak aloud. So foreign to use vibration as communication again. Absurd that shapes in the air have meaning."

Gladio always considered himself the kinda guy to cut through anything—whether it was fancy words or a squad of MTs—but as he exchanged glances with Prompto and Noct yet again, it was pretty obvious there wasn't much to cut through: she'd lost her fucking mind. Laura had spent the last twelve years alone talking to a tree and had gone insane. Even if she could change back into human form, could they take her with them when they left? She'd be a liability on the field, if her distraction just standing here in the hotel room was anything to go by. And though he knew Iggy would agree, Gladio still wasn't looking forward to having that conversation.

"So fleeting. Like the hummingbirds to the kithairon, they flit from thought to thought." Her gaze slowly turned to focus on him. "You are worried," she said, her voice growing a little stronger as she raised her chin in defiance. "Do not fear. I will be ready for battle when I am needed. It is only a matter of growing accustomed to humans once again."

"We've got two weeks here, then two weeks on the boat before we get on the train to Gralea. You think you can get better by then?" Noct asked.

"Yes," Laura said firmly. "A week or so, if Ignis is willing to help."

"Of course I'm—" Gladio heard Iggy's exasperated exhale as the key scratched against the lock. Gladio spared him the extra three seconds of being separated from his wife by reaching behind him and turning the knob. Iggy burst through the partially-open doorway, covered in sweat and his chest heaving.

"Whatever it is you require assistance with, of _course_ I'm willing." He stopped just next to Gladio, staring with an intense, unreadable expression.

Gladio, of course, had a thousand questions as he looked back and forth between the two. He'd expected them to go running into each other's arms like they were running across a field of flowers at each other or some shit. Was Iggy shocked by her appearance? Freaked out? It would be understandable—even the most accepting guy would be a little shocked seeing his girl like this, even if he was somewhat prepared for it. And that look on Laura's face—Gladio knew that look _well_. Slight frown, furrowed brow, eyes cast down to the floor—it was the same look he always had on his face when he was called into his dad's study after he'd done something _terrible_ and was waiting for punishment.

"Please," Iggy pleaded softly, his head tilted at a weird angle.

Nothing seemed to change visually, but Gladio figured it must've been a head thing, because they both let out a harsh breath as Iggy lunged forward and threw his arms around her, pressing her head tightly to his chest.

"Ignis," came her muffled whimper as she gripped at his back, her fingers seeming to dig into his flesh as she squeezed him tighter. "Alluva nin, athaluat."

"Forgive _you_?" he asked incredulously and pulled back from her. Gladio didn't know if Ignis's chosen angle to stand for this long-awaited reunion had been accidental or a deliberate strategic move to ensure the rest of them saw as little as possible, but knowing Iggy and his obsessive need for privacy when it came to Laura—like letting them all know he was actually weak enough to love someone—he probably felt they'd already been 'inappropriate' enough.

"Seriously? That's it?" Prompto complained, his face screwing up in disappointment. "I'd've thought after everything, you guys would at least kiss or something."

Ig turned and, grasping Laura's hand, strode to the desk in the corner. As he fumbled through the pile of keys to the other rooms on the floor, he said without looking back at them, "If it's affection you're desiring, you'll have to speak to Noct or Gladio. I'm afraid neither of us will perform for your amusement." Finding the key he was looking for, he said, "Laura and I will be just across the hall should you have need of us."

"That a good idea?" Noct asked. "We don't know when Ardyn's gonna show up again."

"Already he has returned? His re-embodiment was . . . swifter than I had anticipated," Laura said. "He will be seeking me out with all his resources for what I did to him, but he cannot approach without my knowing."

"What _did_ you do to him anyway? That guy was pissed!" Prompto said.

"I poured almost my . . . entire life force into his mind," she said quietly, her eyes drifting to the floor as she clutched at Iggy's hand. "I lanced it through his thoughts and memories, so that even if he is . . . disembodied, my abominable energy will follow. It wasn't a kind fate."

"Can't say I'm feeling sorry for him," Gladio growled through gritted teeth.

That asshole's actions had cost them all plenty that day, and no matter what Laura did to him, it would never be enough, in Gladio's opinion. But when Laura didn't say anything in response, he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny, trying to figure out what that unfamiliar face was trying to say with her silence. Was she really feeling bad she did what she did? He'd thought better of her than that. This was supposed to be war, and she was supposed to know war, was supposed to be old enough and experienced enough not to feel bad about the shit that had to be done when lives were on the line.

Mercy like that could end up costing them all their lives.

As Iggy nodded sharply and began leading Laura to the front door, the three of them backed away to avoid that burning, murderous feeling that was already starting to creep up Gladio's fingers as she drew nearer. Noct stopped them, though, before Iggy opened the door.

"She gonna be okay, Specs?"

Iggy's gaze turned inward for a minute, his brows twitching together in what looked like sorrow as he answered, "With time, yes. She was gone far longer than she thought she'd have to be, with no one but Therinal for company. It should merely be a matter of adjusting."

"All right, just . . . go on," Gladio said, gesturing to the door. "We'll handle Claustra and all the other shit. This takes priority."

"Yeah," Noct agreed. "Gotta get everybody recovered before we can set out again. Take a week or something. You're just across the hall, right? We'll call if we need anything."

"Thank you, Highness," Iggy said, opening the door and ushering Laura out into the hall. "We'll do the same."

As the door shut behind them, Gladio ran a hand over his face wearily. "What the hell, man."

What a fucking ride it'd been these past weeks, with no end in sight just yet. He'd been hoping to have them all back together, alive, and ready to kick ass on the day Iggy and Laura reunited. Lucky for them, they still had a few weeks to pull it together, and then maybe Iggy and Laura could get to helping Gladio drag Noct's reluctant ass into becoming the king they all needed him to be right now.

"Yeah," Noct agreed. "Who woulda figured when he finally got into a relationship it would be this . . ."

"Weird."

"Yeah, not gonna judge, but definitely weird," Prompto said. "But . . . I gotta be the first to say, tentacles not outta the question now."


	60. Chapter 60

"Please," he had pleaded, not giving a damn about the other three standing feet away, staring with their mouths agape—not giving a damn about _what_ form she had arrived in. Even if she had regenerated into an entirely different person as the Doctor had, he would still not countenance another moment separated from their bond. Tilting his head at the angle they had once used to silently ask for a connection, he fervently hoped it would be enough of a physical signal to meet whatever requirements bonding custom demanded.

The _relief_ that poured over him was nearly overwhelming—her light and love burning down his spine, his fingers, his toes—like stepping into a hot shower after a bitter cold evening spent outdoors to find the water was far warmer than it actually was. Ignis let out a breath in a rush of air only to instantly refill it as he flung himself toward her and poured his own mind into hers like the bottle of wine she'd once described him as.

"Ignis," she sobbed into his chest, clinging to him as though they could melt into each other physically as completely as they could mentally.

But as he'd been warned by Eilendil, something was wrong with her mind.

Had Eilendil not been there to catch her when she had arrived, she might have been carried off by the swift current of millions of shifting, seething, flitting rapids of emotion threatening to erase her sense of self. The sharp shock after so long spent in silence had sent her reeling.

Twelve years. She had been away for _twelve years_ —more than half the span of his life on this eos so far—alone with Therinal in Lliaméra with that final, terrible day replaying over and over in her mind, allowing time for the doubt of their tenuous forgiveness to fester to the point where she wasn't certain how he would receive her when she returned. Like him, she had spent their separation blaming herself for everything that had happened that day. Her uneasiness at how he would react to her true form was doing little to help her state of mind.

"Alluva nin, athaluat," she pleaded.

"Forgive _you_?" he asked in disbelief, unable to hold his incredulity in his mind and needing to ask the question aloud. _I already did so—completely._

Every millisecond of those years had beat heavy on her in serene, peaceful agony—with her severed bond seeming to bleed life and his memory into her mind and the slow, reassuring love that was Therinal keeping her from going completely mad with the anguish of missing him as her body and bond with the TARDIS recovered. Passing such time in solitude with none but the two of them had been as floating in space between time and nature—aware of nothing but the wild, mercurial timelines and the lumbering, steady passage of the sun, wind, and seasons. Her mindscape had grown wild, eternal, meandering, instinctual, and nearly too quick for him to handle.

Tears welled and spilled over the edges of her eyelids and onto the gabardine fabric of his jacket as she gripped him tighter, both mentally and physically, pouring every moment into his mind that she'd missed him so much that it hurt to breathe, desperate to share every fleeting moment they had been was becoming too much—the relief and disbelief—as the thoughts and emotions roaring through his mind and hers swirled and frothed and coalesced until they became a single whirlpool of sorrow, heartache, absolution, acceptance, and love. But it wasn't just her—they were both desperate to share with each other the lessons they had learned from their near-fatal mistakes, ready to move on as soon as she had answered his questions.

 _Slow down, love,_ he said gently, fighting the nausea that was threatening at the onslaught. _Remember, we mortals can't handle that much at once._

Her identity pressing down on him attenuated a little, replaced by remorse at how clumsily she was handling this. _Slow and quick, fleeting and fading, lagging and lingering—the beautiful irony that encompasses your entire lives. I will be more careful._

"Seriously? That's it? I'd've thought after everything, you guys would at least kiss or something."

She was _alive_. She was all right. They had forgiven each other. And they had performed enough of this display in front of an audience.

* * *

His heart broke for her as she struggled to focus on placing her next steps into the room, as he knew all too well the sensation of being swept away by the thoughts of another—let alone Prompto's nervousness, Noct's grief, Gladio's fear, and the shifting, prickling colors of the minds on the entire block.

 _What do you need from me?_ he asked as he gently ushered her by the elbow into the room across the hall.

 _The bond. Your beautiful heart and mind. The piece of my heart I left with you._

 _Your golden thread?_ Though it was now glowing bright and warm in his mind, he hadn't felt an inkling of her the entire time she'd been dead or gone. He'd believed the bond to be broken the moment it had gone dark.

 _Never broken—pinched to a minimum. I am sorry._

The moment he shut the door of the room behind her, Ignis released his tenuous hold on his composure, snaking his arms around her waist and yanking her into his chest.

"Rose," he choked, burying his face in her hair at her neck, breathing in her pine-kithairon essence he'd believed he'd never smell again, and reveling in the sensation of her hearts beating beneath his lips. He pulled away just long enough to sweep her hair to the side before latching his lips and the edges of his teeth beneath her ear, tasting that sweet scent on the back of his palate as he suckled his way up to her earlobe.

"Stars, Ignis," she whimpered as she raked her nails up his neck and into his hair, making him shiver, "I have missed you so!"

As he gripped the edge of her ear between his lips, it seemed to flick back roughly at his touch, and he recoiled a bit in surprise.

"What's this?" he murmured, brushing her hair completely away to reveal the long, tapered point of her ear, which had just returned to its previous, presumably relaxed position. Looking briefly down at his hands, he hurriedly pulled his gloves off and dismissed them to the armiger and was about to feather his fingertips curiously over the edge of the shell when he felt her apprehension, her vulnerability at his assessment.

Quite honestly, he found her stunning, as he always had. Unlike her adolescent form, he still recognized her as his Rose—the rest of this unfamiliar body was merely details he was interested in exploring. Sending her these reassuring thoughts, he cupped her face with both his hands, running his thumbs along her delicate sparkling cheekbones and staring into her bright lapis eyes, which were still wet with her tears.

He kept his voice quiet, deep, and rumbling as he said, "Even so very different than the woman I met, you are still the same. I still love you fiercely. Surely you can sense that."

"I can," she said in a low voice, beginning to lower her head to rest at the base of his neck in relief, but there was more he needed to say, so he caught her jaw with a hand and lifted her chin so that her eyes met his again.

"I love you so very much—more than my own life—and words cannot express the depth of my remorse for my actions that day. On more than one occasion, you ensured that I understood your duties before we bonded, and at the first test of my honor, I betrayed your trust. Even with your forgiveness, I vow to do everything in my power to make any reparations I can."

"No," she said, shaking her head against his gentle grip. "The fault was mine as well, as I should not have pursued you until I was clear of such a secret. We have each learned from this experience; we have each . . . forgiven the other completely. Now we move forward."

Sighing, he raised his eyes to the ceiling before letting them fall closed. He didn't deserve this, even if she'd felt precisely the same as he and even if she were entirely correct. Keeping their lessons in mind as they moved forward without letting the past affect their rapport—a clean slate, as it were—would only make them stronger, nigh unstoppable together. But there was one last obstacle standing in their way before they could both begin that healing.

Staring down into her sapphire eyes intently, he said softly, "Yes, you're right. But I should like to ask my questions first, so that we may truly move on."

He could feel the trepidation building in her mind, but he sent her a wave of reassurance. He needed to know, perhaps selfishly, the extent of her foreknowledge—and after having become the bearer of the very same and finding himself adopting identical practices, he could never again condemn her for such while remaining true to himself. Still, this would hardly be a pleasant conversation.

"All right," she agreed, but before he could usher her to sit on the bed before he pulled up the desk chair, she held a hand up to his neck to stop him. "I need to . . . take care of this first."

 _I was wondering how long it would take you two to remember I was here,_ Eilendil said grumpily.

Brushing her fingers against the pendant, Laura's eyes unfocused for a moment before widening. _The two of you established a deeper connection while I was away?_ she asked in surprise.

 _Needy, fragile humans—he was diminished without you, as, it seems, you are without him._

 _And you?_ she asked, stroking the pendant and the skin around Ignis's neck, and he stepped a little closer so that he could wrap his arms around her back. A desperate, dark hole seemed to have opened up in her mind at her question, one Ignis was well-familiar with—loneliness. She'd spent these last years reaching out against the searing chill of both their severed threads, and even with Therinal's and the TARDIS's company, it wasn't quite the same.

 _I am well, Laurelín. As you tell the child, stop your fussing. We are together again. Ignis Scientia—it was . . . enlightening to touch a mortal mind. I am certain we shall meet again soon._

Before Ignis felt the dragon's weight lift completely off his mind, he said, _The honor was mine. Thank you for your assistance and advice._

Eilendil had lifted completely free of him by the time Laura brushed her fingers against his heart, releasing the clasp with a clinking sound as the metal links coiled into her palm.

"That was far easier for you than it was for me," Ignis muttered with a frown.

He recoiled a little at the shriek that emitted from her hands as she summoned what appeared to be a diamond and pressed it into a slot at the root of the tree on the pendant. "The chain is isomorphic—it knows my mental touch. Anyone else would need a password. Even beheading me would not allow one to remove it unless Eilendil was willing," she said dreamily.

"Are you not aligned?" he asked in alarm, attempting to pull back from her in case he was causing her pain, but she stilled him with a hand over his elbow.

"No, but you are absolutely mad if you believe that I will be parted from you for a moment," she said, her voice growing firm as she glared up at him. "I require your touch to realign regardless, so still your reticence and allow me to enjoy it."

As much as he despised the fact that his own body was not compatible with hers in times such as these, he had to admit that she had a point—she would need to align anyway, and what better way to do so than through love? But before Ignis could react to her statement, she reached up to place the chain around her neck. _Rest now, dearest—and thank you._

Ignis stilled her hands with his own, carefully taking the ends of the chain from her fingers as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Please, allow me," he murmured as he touched the two ends of the chain behind her neck and felt for the seal. Perhaps somewhat unnecessarily, he ran his fingertips down the line of the chain to the front before fanning them out over her delicate collarbones as his lips parted to breathe in the wild scent of fresh air and time between them.

"Say it. Please?" he asked, his chest nearly aching with the desire to hear her say it out loud—just once.

The tender look in her eyes just about broke him as they searched his. "Rose Laurelín Tildari Haránathat Ni'annen Tyler . . . Scientia," she said softly, and Astrals help him, he couldn't control himself. That overwhelming sense of joy and possession flooded him, flowing over their connection into her until she echoed it back, filling him to the brim with that warmth and affection that was so _Rose_ he wondered if he'd managed to tame her mind already.

He darted forward to capture her lips with his, tasting her for the first time since that fateful day in Tigiano Square—sweet and tea and floral and so very much like he remembered. Astrals, she was so incredibly warm, her lips so soft, he felt as though he were drinking in her body heat as he lapped at her tongue and slid his lips wetly against hers. But that damned scar on his lower lip dragged roughly against her mouth, and he winced inwardly, cursing that even kissing her was now marred with the bitter taste of remembrance.

Laura's thoughts turned somber and empathetic as she sucked his lower lip between hers to lave her tongue over the split in the healed-over skin and brought her thumb up to brush over his scarred and still sweaty brow.

 _You are beautiful, and always will be, with the story of your life writ in your skin. But with me, the words are of your choosing._ Before the fear of incapacitating her could rear up in his mind, that image of her waxen face leaning against his shoulder as they left Keycatrich, she said, _Fear not,_ _I will not be creating any reservoirs. Remember, I once made the same offer to Gladio. This is no great sacrifice, love. It is my honor._

Ignis stepped back from her, pulling the chair from the desk and setting it in front of the bed in an attempt to give himself space to grapple with the conflict in his mind. If he were truly honest with himself, there _was_ the smallest part of his vanity in addition to his shame that demanded that he appear as well put-together as possible, though that was perhaps also partially due to his duty as a representative of the Crown. Unlike Gladio, he had no desire to advertise what he had done, but to ask this of her . . .. Then again, this would be as much for her as it was for him, wouldn't it?

"Ignis?"

"Perhaps . . . once you've aligned, so as not to cause you undue pain," he managed to say, gripping the back of the chair tightly in one hand and closing his eyes. "And only if Eilendil's estimate of a night's sleep would be all you require to recover?"

He heard the soft thud of her footsteps across the carpet and her soft caress across his shoulder blades. "He was correct. Less than a night."

"Very well—after you've aligned then. I . . . honestly, 'thank you' doesn't seem to be adequate," he said before taking a breath and turning to her.

"May I take your cloak before we sit?"

To his surprise, she shook her head and took a step back.

"I am not . . . appropriately dressed under this. It would make this conversation far more . . . awkward."

Ignis let his eyes travel down the length of her cloak, attempting to discern anything of her clothing from the small dark gap between the two edges. He'd held her body to his more than once already today, but he'd only done so with gloved hands, and he had to admit he'd had other things on his mind than to see what outfit she had on underneath.

She looked away, pursing her lips with a grimace and parted her cloak just enough to let the light in and reveal . . . her nearly naked body, her modesty barely contained by the gleaming mythril chain and leaf-work from her neck, over her nipples, around her belly button, and barely covering her sex.

"Wha—" he began on a sharp exhale, unable to complete a thought as she closed the cloak over herself again and moved to sit down on the edge of the bed.

"The things I endure for you," she said, frowning in an attempt to cover up her smile, but her eyes were still sparkling with amusement as she stared down at the floor. "I was not certain how far I would have to go . . . to appear as Shiva in Insomnia."

Ignis attempted to shove aside the image of the expanse of her skin, undamaged, unmarked, and the delicate hue of the very tips of a newly-opened sylleblossom. He'd always found her body sensuously alluring, but the idea of exploring this one, of mapping out the differences in appearance and sensation, of spending hours purging the last view he'd had of her naked form from his memory, was a most tantalizing prospect indeed. He sat rigid on the edge of the chair in front of her, taking both her hands between his to keep himself from parting her cloak and grazing his fingertips over her ribs.

"We cannot do that today," she said quietly, and while he did his best to stifle his disappointment at her words, he could feel her swell of tenderness at his desire for her body.

"Just so I understand, may I inquire as to why not?"

"This body is . . . different," she said, and though she was doing her best not to allow the tide of surrounding minds set her adrift in that very moment, an edge of wickedness leaked into her voice at her words. "You will need to be very well-rested, and . . ." she removed one of her hands from his, leaning forward to place it against his jaw, "you have not been taking care of yourself."

He leaned into the warmth of her palm, squeezing her other hand between both his. "Unfortunately, that would be one skill I've never truly excelled at."

She pulled his face forward, leaning in to press her lips briefly against his forehead. "I am here to help. But please . . . ask your questions. I cannot bear this suspense much longer."

He cut to the chase, choosing to get the most painful question behind him as he stared down at her lap. "It's one of your fixed points, isn't it? I can't do anything to change it, can I?"

He was glad he hadn't made eye contact for this question, as the pity in her tone was far too much as it was. "It is fixed, yes. However . . ." and it was here that Ignis's eyes shot up to hers, "in _extreme_ , and I do mean extreme cases, certain events can be changed as long as the fixed point remains the same."

"How?"

"If we can find a way to ensure Noctis's survival while remaining true to what we saw in the vision and the . . . prophecy itself, it can be done."

Ignis's hands tightened around hers as his mind began to race at the implications of her words. They could _save_ him? But how could they find a way to ensure that Noct survived a sword to the chest, the Royal Arms bursting from his back? He would need to do research, perhaps visit the Royal Tombs—even return to the library in Insomnia. Was it possible that this was what His Majesty meant when he asked him to take care of Noct all those years ago?

"Calm down, love," she said, her eyes focusing directly on his, full of clarity and gravity. "First of all, I do not believe Regis knew of his and Noct's fate when he extracted that promise from you, and though I know you take it very seriously, you should hardly judge the measure of your existence by it.

"Secondly, I will help you, but please, please realize: to say that this is a rare phenomenon is an understatement. I only know of it theoretically."

Ignis took a slow breath, cleansing himself of his agitation to get started right away. They had time, and she would help him; even if the chance was slim, it was more than he could've hoped to ask for. Perhaps, when the day drew nearer to Noct appearing as he did in Pryna's vision, Ignis could be the one to personally deliver the good news that his brother was free to live his life as he pleased.

"The vision—had you seen it before? Did you know of the Chancellor's identity beforehand?"

"No," she said with an edge of vehemence in her voice, and he could feel the hurt echo across their bond. "I told you in Lestallum I did not know his identity . . . and I discovered it alongside you all."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, giving her hands an encouraging squeeze and sending her a wave of remorse to back his words. "I had forgotten you said that. I do know you've always done your best to be truthful. But, forgive me, how did you learn of Noct's future then?"

"I knew the King of Light would dispel the darkness and bring back the dawn. There was no mention of a virus, and only an offhanded mention of the Oracle from an advisor. Regis told me what he would have to do someday, but little else."

Imagining what the King must have had to endure, knowing, likely since Noct had been chosen, that he would one day have to die in order to become a Lucii to kill his own son, Ignis couldn't envision himself capable of the strength to do such a thing. And the more he thought about the timeline of events, the more he realized that Rose had been right—His Majesty had _not_ been aware of their future trials when he'd asked Ignis to take care of his son. In Ignis's mind, this didn't release him from his word in any sense; however, the sense of betrayal that had blackened Ignis's memory of the King since that day on the altar eased somewhat at the realization.

"Did you also possess foreknowledge of Lady Lunafreya's death?"

"Not until the moment I determined it was safe for you to see Pryna's vision. I knew there were fixed points scattered throughout that day, but not their specific natures."

Ignis dropped his head, nodding at his lap in relief. How wrong could he have possibly been in that initial reaction, when he'd thought she had manipulated Noct into falling for a dead woman? Here is this quiet, calm moment, the very notion of it seemed so unnecessarily cruel, so unlike Rose, that it was a wonder even his fevered mind had come to such an appalling conclusion.

As though to drive the point deeper, she asked in a subdued, quiet tone, "How is he handling everything?"

Ignis hesitated before replying, "As well as can be expected, given all that's happened. I'm certain you feel his melancholy, but so long as we keep setting tasks in front of him, he manages to hold it at bay. I can only hope Prompto and Gladio are up to the challenge."

"We need not lock ourselves away the _entire_ week, you know," she said amusedly. "It may be beneficial for me to be among people, perhaps even separate once or twice. You need not forsake your duty for my recovery."

Of course they would eventually leave this sanctuary and join the fray once more, but at the moment, the very idea of them separating was unthinkable. He abruptly leaned forward, meeting her surprised lips aggressively, and continued with the motion until he had laid her back on the bed, having crawled onto her lap to hover over her as he pressed her head back into the mattress with his assault on her mouth.

 _Oh gods, Rose, I've missed you so much!_ As much as he tried to hold them back, tears leaked from underneath his eyelids and onto her cheeks, and he felt her soft hands settle on either side of his neck in comfort. _I was so sure I would never see you again, so certain you were gone forever. I was alone—again. I found I couldn't go back to that._

 _Ignis,_ she groaned as their mouths moved over one another. _I missed you, too. In every moment, your scent, your touch, your voice haunted me. I'm so sorry, love—so very sorry for everything that happened that day._

 _Twelve years,_ he choked as he moved his hands to stroke the sides of her face. _How can you have been gone for twelve years?_

 _I will be all right. Better that it was twelve years for me and not for you._

The horror of that idea broke over him at her words—twelve years of his limited life passed without her, with that terrible and terrifying emptiness in his head—knowing that they were prime years of his life he could never get back with her. As though it were possible she could disappear from him at any moment, he moved his hands to grip her shoulders with a moan into her mouth, desperate to keep her there with him.

 _Shh,_ she said soothingly, running her fingertips back and forth along his jaw. _We are together. I am not going anywhere._

The metal choker of her costume scraped against his lips as he moved to nip at her throat, and he shuddered at the sensation of her nails scraping around his neck and up over his scalp. But as he breathed in that intoxicating scent at her throat, he was becoming increasingly aware of an almost unnatural desperation to have her, to claim her, to _breed_ with her. Something primal in his brain was beginning to scream at him to have her _now_ —to come into her over and over again until her womb was swollen with his seed—and he couldn't help but whimper as he rutted against her thighs.

"No," Rose gasped through the similar fog that was beginning to cloud her own thoughts, and the denial was just enough to make him sit up abruptly, clambering off her lap and back into his chair.

"What was that?" he asked, attempting to shake the haze from his head and settle his thrumming body with a few more slow, deep breaths.

"Pheromones," she breathed, still lying back and gasping up at the ceiling. "Yours set mine off, and . . . humans tend to react . . . dramatically to them. Had we not stopped, we would have been . . . mad with insatiety all night."

"Are you all right?" he asked earnestly, noting that her chest was still rising and falling too rapidly and her pupils even more dilated than what had been caused by the overwhelming telepathic input from the city.

"Oh gods, I _want_ you," she let out on an exhale before sitting up and taking his hands between hers with a sigh. "And I will have you—as soon as those rings have cleared from beneath your eyes. You look so tired, love."

Though he himself wanted nothing more in that moment than to free them both from the confines of their clothes and bury himself in her until they'd both replaced every moment of heartache over the past weeks and years with love and pleasure, he at least felt as though he'd gained some measure of control over himself, but only just. If he were being honest with himself, he _was_ exhausted, as even Eilendil's assistance the night before had been interrupted by Rose's arrival in this universe. Now that he was allowing himself to focus on his own body, he could feel the heaviness in his limbs, the bleariness of his eyes.

"You have not taken the time to recover from that day, have you?" she asked gently, a hand settling on his cheek. But he didn't have to answer for her know, for her to feel his guilt and enervation—probably even to detect the scent of Ebony that seemed to ooze from his pores.

"All right," she said firmly as she stood, grabbing his hand and leading him to the en suite. "I want you to get in there and take a steaming hot shower. I . . . do not care if the sun has not yet fully set—you are to dress in your pajamas and join me in bed." At the end of her speech, she gave him a little shove, pushing him over the threshold of the door.

"I was under the impression this was to be _your_ convalescence," he mumbled obstinately.

"Not when you refuse to take care of yourself. Now, go. I would wash you myself, only that would lead to something we could not finish."

Noting that her exasperation with him seemed to bring his wife out, the Rose he knew, he idly wondered how he could use that information to his advantage as he quickly washed the sweat from his body and shampooed his hair—keeping his mind wrapped tightly around her wandering one, anchoring her to this world. If he closed his eyes and concentrated on her, he could feel them all—hundreds of minds prickling at his, changing colors, shifting with emotion, demanding her attention. It was a wonder she had ever in her life learned to ignore the sensory input, as even the secondhand sensation threatened to pull Ignis right out of the shower and into the tide of feeling.

She was sitting up on the bed when he opened the bathroom door, a breakfast tray with a steaming bowl of what looked like soup sitting astride her lap. He had to smile a little to himself when he saw that she'd changed into her sleep shorts and t-shirt, as the juxtaposition of the ensemble on the body of a goddess was more than a little jarring. Even underdressed and distracted as she was, her gaze faraway as she stared into the depths of the soup bowl, that stark contrast between the blue-black of her hair and her ivory skin illuminated like blue starlight threatened to steal his breath away.

Every moment of suffering from that day had been wiped clean from her skin, and it was only a matter of time before the same could be said of her mind.

"Rose?" he queried gently, tugging at their bond to bring her back to the here and now.

"I am . . . I'm all right. Come. Sit," she said, patting the duvet next to her with a smile.

The moment he had settled under the covers, sitting up with his legs stretched in front of him, she dipped a spoon into the enormous bowl, tapped it on the side so that it wouldn't drip, and held it in front of his mouth.

"You're mad, woman, if you believe I'm going to let you feed me that entire bowl as though I were a child," he remarked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Well, you clearly have issues feeding yourself without me, so perhaps you _need_ to be treated as a child. You've lost weight, Ignis."

"I have not!" he cried indignantly, though he knew he wasn't being truthful; he'd had to tighten his belt a notch just this morning to keep his trousers from falling too low on his hips.

She sensed the duality of the statement in his mind and narrowed her eyes at him. "Compromise? I will allow you to nourish yourself if you take this one spoonful from me."

Glaring at her, wondering idly how they had managed to find themselves in such a ridiculous situation so soon after so many overwhelming emotions, he decided to acquiesce.

"Very well, then," he said with a huff in defiance of her amused smile, but he was, perhaps not-so-secretly, pleased to see that life in her eyes.

As he opened his mouth, she began moving the spoon in swirling motions in front of his face. "Here comes the drop ship!" she sang patronizingly, her smile growing into an open-mouthed grin, and it was only then that he noticed the two sharper points of her teeth at the corners of her mouth.

Perhaps tomorrow, she would let him lay her back on this bed and explore that body of hers.

"I'm going to drop _you_ in a moment," he mumbled, attempting to cover up his smile before reaching out to take the spoon between his lips.

"Oh! The MTs have dropped, and Ignis wipes them all out in a single bite!" she cheered, removing the spoon from his mouth and placing it back in the bowl.

Ignis, for his part, had just enough time to register a light tomato-based broth, potatoes, carrots, peas, and a few spices he didn't recognize before he snorted at her words, nearly choking on the mouthful as he attempted to swallow it without spluttering it everywhere.

"W-w-what?" he said, leaning forward and covering his mouth to half cough, half laugh into his hand. "You are _absurd_."

"Well, I'm not certain that it counts as eating your spoonful, as half of it seems to have . . . gone up your nose, but here."

She angled the tray between the two of them and picked up the other spoon. Together, they shared the bowl, playfully fighting over territory when their spoons met or quietly discussing the myriad of vegetables and spices she had used and their origins. Gods, how he'd missed her. She made living so easy, made laughing such a simple matter. In those moments, the pains of the past and the worries of the future were washed away because whatever came for them, they were going to figure it out and defeat it together.

Laura reluctantly allowed him to leave the bed to hurriedly wash the bowl and spoons, but he returned to her side quickly, lying down next to her under the covers, pulling her close, and resting his chin on top of her head. Her body felt so small underneath his hands, and as her back melted into his chest and that feeling of _safe_ pervaded their connection, he allowed himself to truly feel the exhaustion that had weighed him down these past weeks and let out a deep, unrestrained yawn. Then, breathing in a lungful of her sweet scent, he let out the breath on a contented sigh as he felt her body expand with the same action.

He was _home._

"Take me somewhere," he whispered into her hair. "Take me away—anywhere, I don't care."

"Come with me," she whispered back as he felt his eyes grow heavy.

Ignis nearly wept when he appeared on the bridge standing in front of his wife in her human body, but he managed to contain the burn in his eyes as he pulled her into his arms and stepped on the line where burgundy met gold.

A blur of color whirled over his sight, and he found himself standing in what he suspected was some part of Lliaméra, though he had never been to this particular area before. The same unspeakably enormous trees towered over him; the scent of pine and kithairon, nearly identical to Rose's scent, mixed with the fresh air and wafted on the breeze. The same calming mottled green light filtered in from the lofty canopy, and the air was almost roaring with the susurrus of tree needles brushing against one another as they moved. But even with the constant undercurrent of sound, there was still something hushed about the place, something that compelled Ignis to want to bow his head in reverence, as though he were standing in a sacred cathedral.

"I always found solace here in this place," he heard Laura's voice say quietly, and he turned to see her standing at the base of one of the Arkhein trees nearby in a loose-fitting dark green dress that brushed against her long, bare toes.

"It's beautiful," he said dumbly as he stared up at the canopy. It seemed that no matter how many times she brought him to her home planet, he would never cease to be astounded by the sheer beauty of the ancient forest. "I love it here."

The slow smile that spread over her lips was warm and bright as she angled her body toward the tree she was standing underneath. She reached a hand out above her head and ran it gently over the sienna-colored bark, her fingers dipping in and out of the deep, natural fissures of the tree.

"This is Therinal," she said softly, catching her hand along an invisible seam that cracked open to reveal a door.

"This is where you've been?"

"Yes," she said, reaching out for his hands, and her expression grew euphoric and alive as she pulled him toward the door. "Come home with me."

"Yes, anywhere," he said, stepping over the threshold into the hollowed-out tree trunk large enough to fit almost three of the Regalia end-to-end. "I'll follow you anywhere."

With a chuckle and frisson of excitement that set his own heart to racing, she led him up a seemingly endless spiral staircase—whose worn-smooth steps grew directly from the walls of the trunk and were transformed into an ethereal column of stars by the infinite tiny shafts of light that shot through the wood from intricate patterns of holes. These carvings on their own didn't provide enough light to see, however, and he was grateful for the string of silver glowing lanterns wrapped up the center of the spiral as he squinted in the dark to find the next step.

"No electricity?" he asked when he noticed the lanterns were lit by her own magical silver fire.

"No, our civilization, for all its power, was not as advanced technologically as yours. We lived simply, probably much like your Solheimians just after Ifrit gave them fire."

Despite these past months of near constant exercise in extreme conditions, even he was breathing heavily by the time they reached the open arch at the top of the stairs, and, on hearing his labored breath, she turned to him, humor in her expression.

"Believe me; I received plenty of criticism for my design choice. Most of my people, as you saw in the city, sing their dwellings from the ground floor. I was told this was unwelcoming. Perhaps it was a deliberate choice." She pulled him through the arch, and the moment he stepped through, he had to drop her hand and gaze in wonder.

It was as though someone had taken his own mindscape and made it tangible. Wooden bookshelves adorned with intricate carvings of vines and animals lined the walls, overflowing with books, tomes, and scrolls of countless languages. The shelves rose all the way to the high ceiling above, which was painted to look like the night sky awash with stars. The floor was a deep, burnished red wood, and he saw that she had sung swirls of dark blue and gold into the pattern. At the end of the room, a floor-to-ceiling opening led to a balcony outside, its light spilling in to reflect off the ceiling and wood, making the entire room glow with rich color.

His eyes drifted to the smaller spiral staircase in the center of the room, leading still further up the tree.

"It's more utilitarian up there: a living room and kitchen floor, a bedroom and bathroom floor, and a floor for Eilendil. But this is my personal space."

Indeed, he could see her essence expressed in this room; everything about it was designed for quiet reflection and enjoyment of beauty, but with a window into countless adventures by way of every book that lined the shelves surrounding them.

He stepped past the heavy carved desk and chair and ran his hands along the velvety fabric of the squashy, cinnamon colored couch, imagining the reflective, tranquil afternoons he and Rose could've spent here in front of the fire, which was crackling merrily beneath a carved stone and wooden mantle, perhaps even stretched out naked on that luxuriously fluffy, white rug.

"Rose, this place is breathtaking," he said in a near whisper.

"There is still more to show you. Come outside."

He was overwhelmed yet again as she led him by the hand outside to the edge of the living wooden balcony, but her hand slipped from his as she sat down on the edge, her feet dangling off the side.

He stood frozen next to her, his eyes wide with wonder as he took in the sight. No matter how many incredible vistas she had shown them since they'd bonded, there was just something about this particular planet that seemed to speak to his soul.

 _My gods, the view._

The waters of the immense lake were crystal clear, showcasing the multi-colored stones that lined the bottom and glittered like jewels in the weak spring sun. Far beyond, ancient crags of snowcapped mountains rose high to the cerulean sky, cradling the lake in a circle of protection. On its shores, just before the Arkhein trees took over the forest, stood thousands upon thousands of kithairon trees, but these were nothing like the little seedling he'd seen Laura sing in Lucis. These were old and enormous, so fully laden with ruffled pink, red, and white blossoms that he couldn't discern a single green leaf from the masses.

He sat down hard next to her, letting his feet knock against hers as he continued to take it all in—to convince himself that what he was seeing was a real world somewhere and not paradise itself. He recalled that night in Leide, when she'd described this wondrous place, and he'd thought that even her description had sounded befitting for someone of her station, of divinity. Of course, he never would have dreamed to find himself sitting here right beside her.

" _Oh_ , my word, Rose. I know you must grow tired of me saying the same things over and over every time you bring me to a new place, but the sheer beauty, the tranquility—this is simply stunning."

A breeze swept through the trees in that moment, releasing countless clouds and swirls of tiny petals into the air to fall to the ground like fragrant raindrops or brush across their laps and hair before dancing off to settle in drifts at the balcony's corners.

"I shall never tire of showing you the wonders of the universe, love. The look on your face, the wonder in your heart—you know by now how that makes me feel."

He ran his hands along the wood of the balcony beneath him. "But this isn't the wonders of the universe. This is _you_ , is it not? This space came from your heart, your mind, and your life force. Didn't you say you sang this yourself?"

"I did."

He took a deep breath of the fresh petal-laden air and blew it out. "I could see myself here with you—every day, for the rest of time."

When she looked up at him, her eyes were wide and shimmering as she said, "We can come here every night, if you wish—make this our home. But you _were_ here with me. For twelve years, I recovered and thought of nothing else. I missed you so much it felt as though I were breaking apart, but knowing that I would see you again made it bearable."

"Rose," he said in wonder, pulling her head into his shoulder and kissing her temple.

Yes, he was finally, blessedly _home_.


	61. Chapter 61

**Author's Note:**

Insert excuse about the holiday and insane work schedule here.

NSFW this chapter.

* * *

It mattered not one whit that Ignis was only setting his bow to the instrument to play a simple scale. There was something about the way he closed his eyes in concentration, the way the corners of his brow twitched down, the way his lips pulled ever so slightly down at the corners—and that was only his expression. The way his long, pale fingers contorted on the neck and delicately held the bow combined with the flex of his forearms sent a quiver of desire through Laura as he swayed and seemingly danced with the violin in the sun-drenched little shop she'd created for him, packed full of the best violins she'd come across over the millennia. He seemed to fit seamlessly among the instruments and the scent of varnish and varying ages of wood, to belong here in this place with its creaking wooden floor and the shafts of light from the shop window that turned his honey brown hair golden.

"Plucking at your heartstrings again, am I?" he asked without pausing, that unique amalgam of affection and embarrassment brewing in his thoughts. He opened his eyes to look at her, his gaze vibrant green with excitement and delight. "As much as I was attracted to the aesthetics of the Bridge violin, I find I prefer the sound of this one and the way it fits my hands. I believe this is the one."

Of course, of all the planets and universes and time periods he had to choose from, Ignis Scientia _would_ prefer a Stradivarius. No matter in which universe Laura would encounter the luthier, Antonio Stradivari was _always_ practicing his craft—seemingly possessed by the notion that the souls of the wood were speaking to him, imploring him to shape them so that they could be gifted with a voice to sing songs for themselves. Laura had always been charmed by the flattering Italian man each time she'd encountered him, and though she herself was a hopeless instrumentalist, he'd gifted her with twelve Strads in their various encounters.

If only he would stop pissing off the Vashta Nerada, he wouldn't need her assistance so often.

"Yeah? I have a similar one in my Pocket if you ever wanted to play in the real world, but not that one."

Ignis dismissed the bow and brought the body of the violin closer to his face, scrutinizing the softly glowing wood as his fingers traced the edges worn smooth by hundreds of years of use.

"The craftsmanship, the sound it produces—unlike even the best luthiers of Accordo." He paused, his eyes darting up to hers. "Dare I ask how much this instrument is worth?"

Laura smiled warmly at his naïveté. For all his travels with her, he still didn't seem to understand that things like monetary value were meaningless concepts in a reality of multiple times and universes. That sort of thinking was to be expected, however, when he was the only one of the group ensuring that they didn't spend all their funds on eating out, souvenirs, and decals for the Regalia.

"It depends on the time period. That particular violin, when I encountered it, was being auctioned off for the equivalent of 110 million gil."

His eyebrows shot up as he looked back down at the violin. "Really," he remarked nonchalantly. "It seems . . . wrong of me to use such an extraordinary instrument for everyday practice, particularly at my level of skill."

"It's not real, love," she reminded him, rolling her eyes a little. "Besides, do you really believe the other violin covered in crystals is cheap? Even that one is ten million gil, or thereabouts."

"I have expensive tastes in any universe, it seems," he said with a sigh, placing the violin carefully back in its case.

"It'll be waiting for you whenever you like at Therinal. Or, hell, if you wanted to play it onstage in the most opulent concert hall of the Allison Galaxy, we could arrange that, too."

A stain of pink blossomed on his cheeks as he lowered his eyes and replied, "I should prefer to do my composing at Therinal, if you don't mind. And . . .."

Laura waited for him to finish, but he sighed after a moment and shook his head. She studied his downcast gaze, the way the slightest blush lingered on his cheeks, that wall of hesitancy and reluctance in his mind . . . he wanted something and was too concerned about being a burden to ask for it. Hadn't he gotten past that ages ago, especially here in this world of dreams?

"No, don't do that. What is it you want?"

"It's just that . . . the piece I was last working on, years ago now, also required a piano, but it's not important."

She beamed at him, poking her tongue out to touch her teeth in mischief. "Of course it's important," she said, pulling him down to her mouth by his suspenders. He closed his eyes and reached out to hold her as their lips met, and she took advantage of his distraction by transforming the shop around them—replacing the violins with three hundred and twenty-seven of the best pianos she'd sat down at, much to any audience's disappointment.

"I didn't know you also played the piano," she said when she pulled away, but he kept his arms wrapped around her back, enveloping her in his warm, spicy scent as his gaze traveled over their surroundings.

"It was more of a private hobby in my very spare moments. I never had the time to truly develop the skill. My music tutor was a very kind woman who allowed me to explore my choice of instruments, and I discovered that violin and piano spoke most to my tastes."

"Then choose one."

"It's one thing to bring a violin into your home. It's quite another matter to ask you to make space for a piano."

"I'm thinking we move the couch to face the fireplace, get rid of the chairs, and put the piano there so I can watch you play," she said, ignoring him. "And do try to remember: it's _your_ home as well."

She hadn't expected him to love Therinal, to love Lliaméra so much, else she would have taken him there first thing after their bonding. This concept of home—a space to find respite and solitude without loneliness, where he could keep everything he loved within arm's reach—was one she should have realized he'd been missing all these years. But now that they'd decided they would spend at least a little while every night there, she was most eager to see him truly claim the space for his own.

Stars, the light in his eyes and the joy in his heart at her words—he was just so easy to please, and after her intense relief that she hadn't completely ruined his life, at finding him still loving her, still wanting her, she was more determined than ever to see him smile every day.

Ignis lowered his head and feathered his lips across her cheek, blowing out a warm breath of a sigh across her ear and making her shiver. "Thank you," he rumbled in that deep, velvet voice of his. "I assure you, the feeling is entirely mutual."

"Ignis—"

"Today, please," he breathed, pulling her hips against him in case there was the slightest possibility that she didn't know what he was referring to.

She did—the demanding lech, but she'd be a hypocrite of the highest order if she didn't admit that the thought hadn't crossed her mind every time she'd looked at him since that first evening she'd arrived.

"I'm sufficiently recovered, and you . . . your mind rarely wanders anymore. Even your speech is returning to normal."

The past five days they'd spent locked away in their room, far longer than she'd suspected they would need, had been more for Ignis's recovery than hers. She could recuperate in any setting so long as she had his calm mind and their bond to hold her to the ground, but his sallow skin and bloodshot eyes were evidence enough that he hadn't taken a moment to recover from the battle—that he'd been throwing himself into his obligations without regard to his own health for weeks now after exerting himself so thoroughly with his gratuitous use of elemental power. Since the evening she'd returned, he'd cast aside his heavy cloak of weariness and silent suffering to replace it with hours upon hours of telepathically-induced sleep, proper nutrition from the stores in her Pocket, and peace of mind from the occasional trip across the hall to ensure that Noct was all right and that they hadn't yet set their room on fire.

As for her, she had paid for her crime with twelve years of silence. So long as she didn't take further action, she could spare herself a complete regression to those cold and ruthless days near the end of the war, but she would act if she had to—if Ignis was singled out and threatened like that again.

No amount of time alone with him could make up for those years she'd spent with every thought wrapped around the abyss in her head. The loss of his glowing warmth had been even worse than when James had died, as the death of a mate provided some sense of finality to the severance. But they were both eager upon their reunion to heal each other's respective wounds—combining duty and leisure as they'd gone on adventure after adventure together: flight school, driving school, the spice market of Viricak XIX, The Museum of Intergalactic Art on Feldspoon, a lecture (and argument) with Stephen Hawking on cosmology, a class on elemancy with Rindirak Xaxian Spiroactie Junior. It was only after they'd visited the Hallelujah Mountains on Pandora and returned to Therinal that he'd expressed interest in taking up composing again.

Of course, that wasn't all he'd expressed an interest in—had been expressing an interest in since that first night—and she wasn't terribly surprised by his insistence.

Sex was complex matter for Lliamérians, as everything with immortals tended to be. Biologically programmed to experience desire exclusively when bonded and only very, very infrequently, Laura had never endured a long stretch of time in her true form without her living bond partner by her side, and she'd been unprepared for just how quickly the scent of Ignis's musky arousal had seeped into her pores, setting her blood afire and flooding her system with a potent cocktail of pheromones designed to drive one specific man into a desperate frenzy—her bondmate. It didn't help that the effect was particularly powerful on human physiology. That he'd managed to abstain this long after that incident was either a testament to his astounding self-control or his body's desperate need for rest, she wasn't sure which, but she'd had quite enough waiting as well.

"It's still dark out. Pick a piano, and then we'll wake up?" she suggested.

He pushed at her hips and stepped forward, walking her back until her lower back was pressed up between the body of an ebony Spherian baby grand and Ignis's hips.

"This one," he said with a hum into her hair.

"All right, I suppose we could do this later, when you're more . . . focused," she said amusedly.

"An excellent strategy," he said, stroking her ribs and nuzzling at her neck. "We may make a tactician out of you yet."

"Hush, you," she sighed, tipping her head back into his attentions, but after several moments of basking in the caress of lips on her skin, she regretfully brought them both back to consciousness.

Laura found herself half-propped up on the pillows when she awoke, the upper half of Ignis's body draped across hers as his head rested heavily on her shoulder.

"Good morning," he rumbled in a soft, hoarse voice, squeezing her to him as he wrapped his lips around the edge of her shoulder. He must have still had his eyes closed, else he would have made a comment on the markings stippling her skin that he was currently nibbling on.

Laura ran the hand that was resting on his neck to brush away the soft bangs from his eyes before reaching up to stroke from his ear to the top of his head and back again, breathing in the clean scent of his shampoo and letting her forearm rub lightly against his rough stubble.

"Good morning . . . sort of."

He turned his head into her neck so that she was trailing her fingers over the other side of his face as he pressed his lips to the hollow of her collarbone.

"As much as I loathe the idea of leaving this bed," he murmured between quick, sweet kisses to her neck, "I should like to at least brush my teeth before I explore you."

"Would you mind if I joined you?" she asked, reaching over to turn on the lamp. While she technically didn't have to clean her teeth as often as humans, it had always been a practice she'd adhered to, and she needed to collect the extra towels in the bathroom for the bed, anyway.

Hearing her train of thought, Ignis pulled back and raised his eyebrows, but his resulting question was immediately derailed by the luminescence she knew was glowing in her cheeks despite the dim light of the lamp.

"They're so much brighter in the dark. Bioluminescence? Have you been keeping this from me?" he asked, propping himself up on an elbow and sliding the very tips of his first two fingers over the apple of her cheek.

"Not intentionally, no. You've been unconscious every evening since I arrived. There are others you'll see when we get back in bed."

"Mmm," he hummed introspectively before placing a brief peck on her cheek and pulling away. _Seems as though you aren't the only one with the privilege of touching the stars,_ he said, thinking of their first night together as she had kissed his freckles on the couch.

He maintained a careful distance as they brushed their teeth in front of the pedestal sink together, but he kept meeting her gaze in the mirror with that dark look in his eyes as he wrapped his lips around his toothbrush. It wasn't until they'd taken turns rinsing out their mouths that he reached forward with a soft hand to brush his thumb over her mouth, parting her lips.

"May I?"

They'd been careful these last five days not to explore one another fully for fear of awakening that fever they'd sparked the first night, but it seemed that now that they were unchaining that desire, he wasn't even going to wait until they'd returned to the bed to begin. She knew exactly what he wanted, so she opened her mouth so that he could flip his hand over and run the pad of his thumb over her pointed canines.

"Seems a peculiar evolutionary form for a mostly herbivorous species," he remarked objectively, thinking of the history of her people.

"Who says they're for eating? We weren't always so civilized," she replied with an open-mouthed grin before nipping sharply at his flesh, subtly reminding him of the somewhat violent history with his species on her planet.

"Oh," he said, raising his eyebrows, the stirrings of discomfort beginning to gather in his mind. Try as he might, he couldn't completely mask his distaste at her suggestion and was doing his best to rationalize the practice as necessary measures taken against the enemy.

She smiled at his attempt at open-mindedness and answered him before he could even form the question, "Long, long, long before I was born—before we developed weapons and evolved into telepaths. _I_ certainly never took part in such practices."

"That's quite a relief to know," he said on a sigh as he settled his hand on her neck. "I'd hate to awaken in the middle of the night to find myself . . . have you ever heard of the legend of a creature called a vampire?"

"Ha! No, nothing like that at all," she laughed, tilting her head, squinting in mirth and tenderness at him. Though she tried to keep them still, the tips of her ears quivered with her laughter, and his eyes darted immediately to the tremor of her hair. "Though I must admit, I am _very_ attracted to your neck, if for different reasons."

"May I?" he asked again with a tentative hand grazing slowly up her cheek and into her hair.

She was beginning to realize exactly how he had felt that first time she'd undressed him that night in Lestallum. She hadn't thought of it in such a way, but she'd been wearing the clothes of humanity for far longer than she'd worn her own face, and this was the first time she was appearing as herself before her husband. He'd been so adoring, so curious since she'd returned. How much would his affection allow him to let slide before it became too much for him? He wasn't like the humans on Miriásia—growing up on the legends of the beautiful immortal beings that lived deep in the heart of the Forest of the Ancients and lured unassuming mortals to their downy, starlit bowers with bewitching songs and the promise of hours of pleasure beyond imagination.

Still, he seemed eager, so she nodded her ascent.

The tip of her ear flickered of its own accord as he tucked her hair back and gently grasped it between his thumb and forefinger before edging his way down to her lobe with near painful slowness, his mind buzzing with questions and longing.

"What is their range of movement? Do you find there is a benefit to them moving in that manner?"

"I did so miss that inquisitive mind of yours," she said with a warm smile, cupping a hand to his cheek. "No more than what you've seen, and . . . I find I am able to pinpoint the location of a sound with greater accuracy."

"I see," he acknowledged before leaning in to graze his lips along where his fingers had just traced, his hot breath stuttering in her ear. "They're lovely," he whispered. "Thank you for showing me."

"They're a pain in the ass," she gasped against his neck. "An entirely new set of ridiculous social rules to follow about when it is and isn't appropriate to move them and how."

He chuckled, pulling back with twinkling eyes before saying, "You _would_ find the oddest aspect of improved hearing to grouse about."

The calm, rational way they spread the bath sheets over the bed was so very incongruous to any other day like this she'd had in the past, so very incongruous to the quivering in her gut, the warmth spreading up to her ears and down to her toes, and the edge of tension to her teeth. She could smell it on him from across the bed—mixed in with the coffee and sage, that indefinable heady aroma of testosterone and other hormones and those gods damned pheromones . . . sweet, spicy, and warm in a way that made her mouth water as she inhaled.

Ignis reached for the edges of his t-shirt as he stalked to her side of the bed, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rolling beneath his skin as he lifted it over his head and tossed it haphazardly on the wingback chair next to the bed.

"Ignis, please," she begged feverishly.

"Yes," he growled, reaching for the hem of her t-shirt, but as she lifted her arms, expecting him to nearly rip it off her, he surprised her by gently raising it over her head and casually tossing it over his on the armchair.

She could feel it taking over—that haze that made her want to leap at him, bury her face in his neck, and impale herself on his cock until he'd been reduced to a vessel of bliss. She wanted his love, his pleasure, his seed—down her throat, inside her, on her—it didn't particularly matter all of the sudden. And even if their union could bear no fruit, that desire to mate with him hung as heavy in her chest as it apparently did in his groin.

But when she reached out to grasp his head to pull him down to her mouth, he stilled her, bringing his hands up just shy of where hers hovered in the air between them.

"Please, I want . . .," he swallowed. "I only get one chance at this, do I not? Please, let me explore you first."

He would never make it—already his eyes were manic and glaring, the bulge of his jaw twitching as he gritted his teeth, his breath labored, his erection tugging at his pajamas. A beautiful blush of heat was slowly spreading across his face and down his neck as he stared down at her, and she shuddered against the desire to leap up onto him and nibble across that sharp, pink cheekbone of his.

"All right," she agreed, taking in a deep breath of his musk, disconnecting her agency from the nearly violent need to do _something_ about the ache in her blood, and taking a small step back as though to offer up her body to his whims.

With a sharp exhale he brought his trembling hands to her sides, running his large, warm palms down her pebbling skin to the waistband of her shorts. He kept the coiled tension thrumming in his mind under a tight rein, careful not to come too close and breathe in her scent as he grasped the elastic and pushed her shorts and panties down her hips, sending them skimming down her legs with a shiver and landing at her feet.

"Get on the bed," he commanded somewhat harshly in a low, rough voice, but when she tilted her head, a slow smile spreading over her lips and the word _bossy_ reverberating in her mind, he softened to a hoarse whisper, "please."

She obeyed, keeping her eyes locked on his blazing viridian ones as she lay across the bed, watching as his focus drifted from her face down the line of her body. They lingered on the contrast of her red areolae and ivory skin in the light of her pale-blue aura; the tight, quivering skin of her abdomen, completely healed of the slit torn across the width of her body from an MT's sword; all the way down to her long toes—longer than even his, he noted with some fond remembrance for the first time she had made a remark about his feet.

"Turn off the light," she said softly.

"But I want to see you in every detail."

"And you will as the sun rises, but remember that it is only in the dark that one can see the stars."

She closed her eyes as he turned out the light, apprehensive to see the expression on his face as he took in the sight of her body in complete darkness for the first time—the play of the corona of subtle light radiating from her skin, the more delicate patterning of swirling stars that shimmered and danced in wandering vines down her neck, across her shoulders, circling to the tips of her fingers, meandering down her torso, and curling around her toes.

His mind stilled for a suspenseful moment before relaxing into awe.

 _Divine,_ he breathed as he pushed his own pajamas down his hips and crawled up her legs. _All my years spent on this eos as a servant, never in my life did I dream I would be permitted to use my body to love a piece of the heavens, and that she would love me in return._

 _I do,_ she said on a relieved sigh, tilting her head back into the mattress as he buried his fingers in her hair and combed them through the strands, forming a raven halo around her head that draped off the edge of the bed. _Gods, Ignis, I truly do. But you're not my servant._

The hairs of his inner thighs tickled at her skin as he settled lightly over her hips, straddling her and displaying almost proudly the evidence of his desire in the form of his flushed and swollen cock, glistening at the tip. His scent was everywhere already—saturating her skin as it rolled off him in heated waves, and _stars_ , she wanted him to plunge into her, to stretch her just to the point of pain, to fill her up as he pinned her down. But he was the very paragon of self-discipline as he took a deep breath of fresh air, his nostrils flaring with the inhalation, before leaning down to nip, kiss, and lick gently at her ear, down her jaw, and over the cords of her throat.

 _You're right,_ he said, punctuating his words with a swift, sharp bite to her collarbone before kissing his way down her arm. _I'm your_ _ **husband**_ _. And I must say, I find even more pleasure worshipping you in that respect._

"Ignis," she keened, reaching out to grasp a handful of hair at the nape of his neck, but he caught her wrist tightly and pinned it to the bed next to her head.

"Please, I couldn't manage this if you . . .," he seemed to choke on his words for a moment as he closed his eyes and turned his head, his jaw twitching in agitation. And as the barriers in his mind shuddered before returning, she could _feel_ him—that naked, desperate fire roiling in his gut, the desire to consume and bite and breed with her.

She whimpered and nodded, bringing her hands above her head to claw desperately at the edge of the mattress as he resumed his exploration—his lips and wet tongue trailing languidly through the path of stars that circled one of her nipples. But _oh gods,_ his thoughts had stoked that fire in her just as much as his hot mouth and pinching fingers on her breasts were currently doing. It was only as she squirmed, pressing her thighs together and shivering at the cool air hitting the soaked skin there that he courteously offered her some assistance by inserting a knee between her legs for her to shamelessly rut against. She kept her frantic thoughts behind her own barrier, however, refusing to add fuel to their restrained feedback loop lest she sabotage this sweet torture he was performing.

And what a masterful performance it was—eloquent praise spilling from elegant lips in vibrating murmurs against her skin as he circled her navel, idly wondering at how human, how _his_ her body still seemed to be. That space in her mind that had been bleeding and cold for so very long was full and glowing—a tender, affectionate incandescence that still somehow managed to stoke the fires of her own forge as he continued to stroke her skin with skimming fingers and a blazing hot, panting mouth.

"Do you have any idea how very beautiful you are?" he crooned in a velvet voice into the tops of her feet, his lips skimming over her long toes and his mind emphasizing that he was including both her bodies in his words.

She let the gratitude swelling her hearts at his sweetness wash into his mind, but aloud, she chanted on an exhale, "Ithīr, tye méla. Tye méla. _Oh,_ elenath, Ithīr, tye méla."

"Yessss," he hissed, the lingering fricative dancing across her skin. "Tye méla."

His own barriers growing weak, that incandescence gradually flared into a conflagration and spilled into her already overheated synapses when he gracefully flipped her over to her stomach and began again, this time lipping and biting at her calves and reaching up to stoke the pattern of stars that wound up her spine.

She couldn't take this sensual teasing any longer, no matter how much he was reveling in his own delicious agony. Had he truly been a virgin when they'd first met? He seemed to know too much about meticulously, thoroughly unravelling her without even having to resort to taking her apart telepathically. Whatever he'd been, he was now a man released from those bonds of his early days—unhindered in his passion for expressing himself with his body but with a sense of control she herself had never possessed. He was the epitome of refined intensity in that moment, despite his arousal transforming his trembling into violent shudders as he began to lose his tenuous grip on himself.

His fire had been awakened, and if he was the flame, why was he giving her the chills?

"Ignis, love, _please_ ," she cried out breathily, not giving a flying rat's ass about dignity. She slid her knees beneath her, raising her hips in the air and exposing her dripping sex to his face.

" _Oh,_ " he groaned, immediately surging forward, plunging nose-deep into her, and she nearly sobbed at the sheer ecstasy of that nimble tongue of his _finally_ sending those bolts of pleasure up her spine. Burying her face into the mattress, she released the cry as her back arched into the contact.

 _You're exquisite, Rose. Please don't hide your pleasure from me. I want to hear my name fall from your lips, from your mind._

But as that spiraling coil was fast preparing itself to spring, almost embarrassingly quickly at his insistent, wriggling tongue against where he knew she needed it most, all she could think about was how desperately she wanted his cock shoved down her throat, how much she _needed_ to suck him dry. Looking into his mind, she could sense him reveling in being so completely immersed in her sex, and the hand that wasn't franticly kneading the curve of her ass was spreading his dripping precum down his shaft in swift sure strokes.

"Ignis!" she shrieked at the white-hot point of pleasure that pierced her, every point of light on her skin pulsing in time to her orgasm. But she had to cry out again as Ignis pulled back, flipped her over, and plunged his seeping cock into her so forcefully that he grunted out an open-mouth growl when his balls smacked against her. He lifted her hips with his large hands and set a relentless pace, biting his lower lip and throwing his head back in exaltation.

"By the light of all the stars, look at you shimmer for me. So beautiful," he groaned, removing a hand to stroke the patterns on her belly, the whorls of his fingerprints singeing heat across her skin as she rode out her climax and nearly immediately fell into the foundations of what could be another very, very soon.

He was the image of sinuous grace, the way the muscles in his abdomen constricted and relaxed with each jerking thrust that set her breasts to bouncing and her walls to tighten around him. The sounds they were making together would almost be enough to send her over the edge—her breathy moans, his heavy panting, the wet sucking as he pulled out, and the smacking of his balls against her as he thrust back in. But for once, he wasn't meeting her gaze, and when she looked through his to see what he was staring at with those blazing emerald eyes, she had to bite her own lip and groan at the sight of his glistening girth, drenched with her fluid, stretching and tugging at her labia as he pounded and pulled at her sex.

"Do you see that?" he asked in a gravelly melodious tone as he sent her the sensation of the drag of his tongue over her clitoris. He let out a grunt as their hipbones collided with another forceful thrust. "Do you _smell_ that? It's _us_ , Rose."

"Yes, _oh bloody hell,_ Ignis, I can," she managed through quick, shallow gasps.

He was holding on with every fiber of his being, she could tell, but he could never hold out for long once she'd started shaking around him. Leaning over her, he whispered in a dark voice.

"Come with me, love. I want to see you sparkle."

That powerful wall of sensation hit them both at the very same moment as he spilled himself into her with a shout of her name, and she arched up into him, clenching into his torrential rush of warmth. She could feel her sharp teeth denting the skin of his shoulder as they rode out the shockwaves together, and not wishing to hurt him, she reluctantly tore her mouth away to find his lips instead.

But as he pulled out and collapsed breathless on the pillows beside her, he whimpered in frustration.

"Rose," he cried out in supplication, his hand moving to stroke his cock—still rock-hard and slick with his come and hers, "I'm still . . .."

With that feverish desire for his seed sated, Laura was overcome by an entirely different need—the need for his skin, his hands, his mind, his heart. She needed to _love_ him.

"Yes, let me take care of you," she said softly, moving his hand away so she could lower herself onto his length with a sigh.

The pace she set was slower, worshipping—the fluid from their last joining seeping out of her and pooling at the base of him, dripping down his testicles as they moved together. But too far gone to find it in himself to care about the mess, he was entirely focused on filling her womb again. The pads of his fingers skimmed lovingly up and down the length of her body, but as she leaned over him, her long hair falling around his face and engulfing him in a fresh nebula of her scent, he grew more urgent, digging his blunt fingertips into her hips rolling sensuously up and down his length.

" _Please,_ " he begged as she grazed her teeth over his neck and ran her tongue over his exposed Adam's apple. When she pulled back to gaze into his worshipful eyes, to see for herself those dark pupils blown wide, they rolled up into his head as his neck fell back into the pillow, his mouth falling open so he could pull in a deeper breath. "Rose, please, _more_."

"I've got you, love," she whispered before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Just feel."

 _This_ . . . this was their purging, their cleansing, their absolution—a rapturous hallelujah and a blessed release of every pent-up emotion they'd experienced in their time without each other. And as the sun slowly rose, obscuring the stars in the sky and on her skin, making the very air between them glow gold, she soaked in his every breath, every expression, every emotion as he ran his hands over her—as her own fingers roamed over the planes of his chest, up to his sharp jaw, and over his elegant lips. Her beautiful miracle made flesh, writhing in ecstasy right here beneath her.

Soothing his stirrings of remorse that she wasn't coming with him, she pressed as much of her skin as she physically could against his as he curled into her, his every muscle going taut as he released himself and fell back onto the mattress with a sigh.

 _I love you,_ he said, his hand snaking up to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck and pressing her more deeply into the crook of his. Bringing his other hand around her back, he ghosted his fingertips down her spine, making her shudder.

Closer, she couldn't get close enough as she lay on top of him, cradled in his arms and nuzzling insistently into his neck. She wanted to drown in that glorious warm scent of his, to dive deep into the love and admiration bounding over his mindscape. Though the shiver that sparked through his nerves was more likely due to the sheen of sweat drying over his body, her nails grazing over his ribs was certainly adding to the sensation. But she just couldn't stop _touching_ him, couldn't stop licking and placing feathery kisses on every beautiful freckle that speckled his shoulder.

 _And I love you,_ she said, allowing her body to grow warmer so he wouldn't get chilled—and perhaps to encourage him to keep pressing her closer.

He was gentle now, the bonfire reduced to a flickering flame, but this was merely the eye of the storm, a period of calm before he was rekindled into yet another inferno. The rest of today would be desperate and frantic, slow and passionate, and everything in between—a glorious madness. For now, she took advantage of this quiet, melting into his warm flesh, carried away by the waves from the swell and fall of his chest with every slow, sweet breath he took.

"This moment, here—this is my favorite part of living," she murmured into his mop of hair by his ear.

Running his hands reverently over her back, he turned his head to press a soft, smiling kiss to her cheek before replying, "I know. I can feel it from you every time I touch you like this. Why do you think I do it so often?"

"Because you're sweet."

"Because I want to memorize the feel of your skin under my palms, to know you by scent alone, to be able to recall every nuance of your flavor on my tongue, to be able to recognize every sound you're capable of making."

"Ignis," she breathed in a pained voice, knowing full-well the root of his stirring of melancholy.

"Never again, Rose," he promised against her neck, "I'll never forget again."

* * *

The sun had already set when Laura snuggled into the crook of Ignis's arm, still exuding an aura of damp humidity from their shower. Gathering a lock of her hair and feathering it over his chest like a paintbrush, she smiled serenely at his expression—exhausted from pleasure and contentment instead of stress and overwork.

"I can see now why you required us to be well rested," he said, cracking an eyelid open to give her a slow, twinkling smile in return. "Such rigorous activity for such an extended period could kill a man."

"Yes, but what a way to go."

"Indeed," he exhaled. He allowed a moment of silence to pass between them before he said, "So, tomorrow we join the others again?"

"Yes. I have some things to give all of you, perhaps over some lunch. And then tomorrow evening, we should take care of the diary and Pitioss."

His arms tensed around her as he frowned. "My pen is likely irretrievable. The shop was completely obliterated in the destruction. Perhaps the First Secretary would be so kind as to allow me the use of one of hers, as a paradox is at stake."

"Don't worry about that," she said, turning her head to press a kiss to the mole near his armpit. "I've already closed one of the time loops."

"And have you fully aligned?" he asked before his tone grew more accusing. "You always seem to hide your pain from me, and I myself have still never experienced what the others have, so I can't tell. I don't want you near that accursed Rock unless under the most optimal of circumstances."

She smiled into his chest. "I am. I had a bit more skin-to-skin contact this time than last time, so it didn't take quite as long," she said, thinking of every night his hands had snaked up underneath her shirt and spread wide over her belly as they slept. The burn of his proximity had been near-excruciating that first night, but _stars_ , so worth it.

"Good," he said with a nod. "I must admit I am eager to move on. Perhaps we should leave earlier than planned so as to circumvent whatever plans the Chancellor may have for us. We're not exactly hiding here at the Leville."

"I'll leave that up to the four of you, but whether or not he finds us, things will be different now."

It was clear from her review of Ignis's recollections of their encounter with Ardyn that he no longer believed her to be Shiva, but which tone their interactions took in the future were entirely dependent on him. Ardyn's mercurial nature could mean that violence between the two of them could escalate, an outcome she was hoping to avoid, as it would put her charges in greater danger. Laura was hoping that his desire for knowledge would override the need to take revenge for blistering lava she'd left in his mind enough to make him curious, but she wasn't holding out hope. She knew from her experience as the anathema to Eos that the searing brand the goddess left on the psyche was no easy suffering to endure.

Only time would tell, but she had something over him now.

 _Just be careful, please,_ he pleaded. _I couldn't bear to see you in such a state again. A part of me died that day and hasn't yet fully revived._

Shame rolled through him at his role in her demise that day, but as she propped herself up to caress his cheek and reassure him, he asked in a hesitant tone, "Do you . . . do you have additional insights into the future? I don't need to know what they are, but I'd like to be prepared."

For once, she could answer completely freely, "No. Noct's fate was the last." But when he let out a long breath, she felt it only fair to warn him, "That doesn't mean I won't receive more in the future."

"I understand," he said calmly, pulling her back down to his chest and hugging her tightly. "I truly do."

His mind prickled in silent thought for a few minutes, and when she felt a cloud of wistfulness settle over his mind, she looked up at him questioningly.

"If we're meeting the others tomorrow, how will you have the time to transform? I was under the impression the process was time consuming?"

Left with twelve years to imagine her return, she'd been inspired by this world's use of magic flasks to store spells for later use. Her people often used jewels to store energy for future use, but they'd had yet to discover a way to store cast spells. An empty magical flask in her Pocket was all she'd needed to store the completed day-long spell, and with the added benefit of being able to create it using energy from her homeworld.

"The transformation will be instantaneous," she replied as she sent him these memories.

"So tonight is the last night I have with this body," he said, his lips pulling down slightly as he brought his hand up to idly feather a fingertip over the shell of her ear.

"Yes," she said, growing uneasy. Gods, though he'd always been so accepting of every wild thing she'd thrown at him, she couldn't help but wonder, "Which . . .?" but she couldn't complete the thought.

"Both," he said without hesitation. "I find you both equally enchanting. I confess I shall miss seeing you like this just as much as I miss your human form now."

Yes, he truly was her miracle, her home. "Thank you. You can still see me like this whenever you wish, you know, in our dreams. You only have to ask."

"I certainly will," he said, shifting to his side so he could hold her against his chest. "Will you be all right tomorrow? Among all the people once again?"

"Well enough. I may need some help in public. Would you mind pulling me back if you feel me starting to wander?"

"Of course."

She could feel his eyes growing heavy with fatigue; he was ready for a quiet adventure this evening, but there was one last thing they needed to finish here in the real world before she could sweep him away—perhaps to choose a piano for him. His eyelashes fluttered delicately against her chin as she stretched her neck up to press her lips to his scarred eyebrow. She would always find him stunning, no matter what, but it hurt her hearts to see him hurt, to see the evidence that he'd once been mistreated. The shame that washed over him every time he was somehow made aware of their existence was also distressing, so being able to wipe away this one source of unhappiness would be her honor.

Hopefully, with time, she could do the same with the scars inflicted on his beautiful heart.

"Help me," she breathed against him, the hairs of his eyebrow tickling against her sensitive lips. Truly, she didn't need his assistance to do this, but there was a double benefit of easing the strain of this universe on her and providing him an opportunity to practice.

When she felt his mind wrap around hers and reach out for his connection to the Crystal, she began to chant, "Náranath araīm, logara oá lliana. Mumúren ath narathat, la thana."

Exhaling the sparkling green energy of their combined magic and doing her best to ignore the reduced burn of her incompatibility with the planet, she skimmed her lips over his brow, ensuring that all evidence of injury was erased on his skin and the hairs regrown before moving to the bridge of his nose.

His lips parted to inhale raggedly as she breathed the last of the spell onto his mouth, his eyes falling closed, and the moment the last of the energy trickled off her tongue, he surged forward to kiss her hungrily.

 _Thank you._

 _You are most welcome, Ignis. Always._

"Let's go home," she said tiredly when she pulled away and snuggled into his chest again. "We'll need plenty of sleep tonight if we're to convince the others we're all right tomorrow."

A puff of air blew across the top of her head as he sighed. "Better than all right," he mumbled sleepily.

He'd already drifted off by the time she pressed her mouth to his chest, the sparse, honey-colored hairs prickling against her face as the beats of his heart pulsed against her lips. But as she closed her eyes to fully immerse herself in their shared world, a flash of viciously purple fire flashed across the backs of her eyelids.

The skin of the universe was slowly growing thinner.


	62. Chapter 62

**Author's Note:**

You may be tempted to skip over the science report, but not all of it is canon, so fair warning there.

Writing is coming slowly for now. Work isn't letting up, and though many of the fan theories I'm using aren't mine, the connections I make are. They're fiddly and complex, and I'm trying my best to integrate them all without plot holes, or at least as few as possible.

* * *

"So that was the last of the temporary bridges we're gonna put up? Seems like we had about a million on our list a week ago," Prompto sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead as the three of them staggered to the Leville.

"Claustra's decided to take it another way. Seems Iggy made an impact. Dunno what _kind_ of impact, but definitely made one," Gladio said.

Noct looked up from his phone. "Speaking of Iggy, says to meet him and Laura for lunch outside the hotel. Guess they cooked or something."

"Laura's gonna be there too? Outside? Guess that means she's not all weird anymore," Prompto said, swinging his arms back and forth wildly.

None of them had gotten so much as a glimpse of Laura since she'd shown up looking like an alien spaced out on drugs, but Iggy had assured them all that she'd been recovering on schedule every time he came across the hall to put together a quick lunch and dinner for them. Though Noct didn't really see why Laura felt she needed to avoid them all week, he had to admit he was glad she hadn't been around. The return of that burning need to summon something and jam it through her heart was all too familiar, and it brought back that nightmarish vision of her twisting in agony beneath his steel as the blood poured from her shoulder. He didn't wanna have to experience anything like that ever again, for either of them.

And if the drastic improvement in Iggy's coloring this past week was anything to go by, the two of them had been doing just fine on their own anyway.

"Surprised the both of them are showin' up today, after yesterday," Gladio said.

"Yeah," Noct agreed.

Iggy had been religiously visiting them twice a day—until yesterday, when they'd received a text that he wouldn't be coming over and to please excuse him. Since Iggy'd said everything was fine, no one had really been worried for them, but Noct hadn't expected this invitation with Laura _and_ Iggy only a day after.

The hotel was one of the few places that still had patio furniture for its customers, as they must've moved their tables and chairs inside before the rite began, so it was easy to spot the two of them in the courtyard outside the Leville as they set the patio table and chatted easily with each other. Noct could only see the back of Laura's head as she leaned over the table to place a few little dishes in the center, and, remembering that terrible day Iggy had combed out and braided her hair, he wondered how much Iggy had been involved in getting her ready this morning. Half of her long black hair was spilling down her back, with the other half in some kinda intricate braid as thick as a belt and several smaller twists draping down like streamers. The little gold flowers tucked into her hair glimmered in the afternoon light as she turned to greet them.

"Hey guys!" she said with a wide smile and a wave. "You hungry?"

"Wow," Prompto said under his breath. "She looks so much better."

"They both do," Gladio agreed.

Since they'd been seeing Iggy every day for the past week, his appearance came as less of a surprise, except that the scars on his face had been completely removed—Laura's work, Noct bet. Laura herself looked almost completely back to normal—the light from her skin disappeared and the features of her face completely human. Studying her expression, Noct thought she still looked a little on the dreamy side, but mostly alert, at least.

"Hey, Princess!" Gladio greeted, rushing over to pick her up into a rough hug and kiss her on the cheek.

When Gladio put her down, Prompto sidled up to her, putting an arm around her shoulder. "Good to see ya lookin' so much better!"

"Yeah, looks like Iggy's magic worked wonders for ya," Gladio said with a wink.

"What can I say?" she replied with a leer. "The man is a master at everything he does."

"He's definitely good with a lance, I can tell ya. You're one lucky woman."

Iggy sat down at the table and lowered his head, shaking it. "May the Draconian run me through with a blade. What have I said about leaving me out of this game of yours? We're in public, for Astrals' sake."

Gladio reached over to slap Iggy hard a couple of times on the back before flipping a chair around to sit down backwards on it, and Noct took a seat between the two of them.

"Sorry, Ig. You're just too easy. How's that married life been treatin' ya, anyway?"

"Oh my gods," Laura said, looking over at Iggy as she sat down next to him with wide eyes. "You finally told them?"

"Screamed it at us, more like," Prompto muttered as he took his own chair at the table.

Gladio grinned as he looked over at Laura. "So, you added yet _another_ name to that mouthful you've already got? What're we s'posed call you now, anyway?"

"I'll never go by my full name here. Could you imagine the address labels? But . . . perhaps Laura Scientia when it's safe to do so—if that's all right with Ignis."

The light that shone in Iggy's eyes at her words made him appear unrecognizable to Noct for a second, and he had to glance away at the surprising intensity of the pain that stabbed through his chest at the sight. Ignis was _glowing_.

"Of course it's all right," he said like it was obvious, like he wasn't hiding the fact that he was about float away with joy. But then he suddenly turned to Noct, his eyes narrowing as he inspected him. "Good afternoon, Highness," he said carefully. "How are you feeling?"

Noct fidgeted a little under his scrutiny. Truth was that he wasn't feeling all that great. Ever since Leviathan, he'd felt even heavier, even more worn down, and it wasn't improving. It'd been even harder to get up every morning and do what was expected of him. He could tell Gladio was starting to get irritated, but after everything that had happened, Noct was struggling to find it in himself to care about what Gladio thought.

He wished Iggy wouldn't treat him like this though, like he was some kinda little kid. As much as he hated the feeling, he had to admit it was bothering him a little—all this . . . _love_ in the air. Iggy and Laura were doing their best to hide it like they always did, but now that Noct knew they were _married_ , he could see it plain as day on their faces—that light in their eyes. Was this what he and Luna would've been like if she'd . . .. He was trying really hard not to be jealous. It was best not to think about it.

"I'm good, Specs. And it's good to have you back, Laura," he said, leaning forward to catch her eyes at the end of the table. "Thanks . . . you know, for what you did."

Laura looked down at her lap. "I only wish I could've done more," she said quietly. When she looked up in Gladio's direction, she smiled softly and said, "And thank you for trusting me. I know that can't have been easy."

"Yeah," he grunted. "We gotta get all the details behind all your weird medical shit for future reference."

"Well, I didn't know until I was infected that it was something I could fight off, but in any case, Ignis is more aware of my capabilities now."

"Much to my relief," Iggy said with a nod.

Noct was starting to feel a little sick at the memories of being back on that altar, his stomach seeming to turn to lead as his gut twisted, so he changed the subject. "So, what is all this stuff, anyway?" he asked, nodding at the eleven bowls on the table. He assumed it was supposed to be some kinda food, but he didn't really recognize much, and the colors of the bowls' contents made the table look more like a finger painting project than a meal.

"Sebastian allowed us the use of the kitchen, so I made you guys an Earth dish," Laura said. "Doesn't really have a name—just a bunch of brassicas cooked Middle Eastern style over rice and lentils."

"All right! I love it when you cook, Laura!" Prompto cheered, but then he sobered, glancing guiltily over at Iggy. "No offense, but it's different when a girl cooks for you. Plus, the food Laura makes is _weird_ , but like, in a good way!"

"I've no objections," Iggy said smoothly. "For all that Laura claims to be a middling chef, her experience vastly outshines my own."

"So what's brassicas?" Prompto asked.

Laura opened her mouth to answer, but Iggy interrupted. "Don't say it, please. Let them try it first."

"It's vegetables, Specs. I'm not blind," Noct said, rolling his eyes. Really, what else was Laura gonna cook?

"So much for your evil plan," Laura said to Iggy with a smile before turning to Prompto. "Cruciferous vegetables. I don't know which of these exist on Eos and which don't, so I'll just point them all out." Starting at the bowl directly in front of her, she pointed at each dish as she named them, "Baba ghanoush, shaved arugula and Brussels sprouts, lentils and rice, crispy falafel, pickled beets, pickled radishes, crispy onions, roasted carrots, marinated eggplant, and cauliflower. Ignis made some chickatrice for you all, as well. Just spoon up what you'd like into a single bowl. It's all designed to go together, so you can't make a bad combination."

No one moved to serve themselves when she'd finished. Even Iggy seemed more interested in asking her questions about some of the work she'd done while he made the meat.

Noct tentatively sniffed at the air in front of him, eyeing the bowl of what looked like purple worms that she'd called pickled beets. As a whole, the dishes _smelled_ amazing—some kind of toasty-smelling spice, and he _was_ starving. But Noct had never seen so many vegetables on one table before, especially ones that looked like alien body parts dipped in food coloring. Even the foods whose names he knew, like the carrots, he didn't recognize beyond the color.

"I thought a strong and malty black tea would go best with this meal, so there's Simao spring tips in there," Laura said, pointing to the teapot next to Gladio before turning her finger to Noct. " _You_ , you're trying a bit of everything on this table, and you're going to like it!"

"All right, all right," he said with a sigh as she picked up one of the empty bowls and started spooning a little of each color into it. "I'll give it a shot. You haven't killed us yet."

"I'm beginning to believe that it's only with me that you put up such a struggle," Iggy muttered under his breath.

"Shut up," Noct said, pushing him over in his chair a little as he chuckled.

"Cause you're the only one who babies him," Gladio pointed out as he and Prompto each grabbed an empty bowl.

When Laura handed him the bowl, he couldn't help but grimace a little. It was just so . . . _colorful_. Blegh. Tentatively, he took a bite, painfully aware that the others had all paused in serving themselves and were watching him with interest. He didn't see what the big deal was. It wasn't like he'd never eaten a vegetable before.

But he should've known he'd never eaten any vegetables like these before. Iggy'd tried everything over the years to disguise vegetables in his food: using different spices, cutting them up smaller and mixing them in with stuff, even going so far as to wrap them in garula bacon. He'd gotten pretty decent at it, too, but that didn't mean Noct was ever gonna love vegetables. Laura's, though—they were savory, spicy, toasty, and warm. If he didn't pay attention to all the different shapes and textures, he could _almost_ pretend he wasn't eating vegetables at all . . . almost.

"It's all right," he said with a shrug.

"And I believe," Ignis said, "that is the most enthusiasm he can manage to muster about a bowl of vegetables."

"You got that right."

Noct ducked his head down to his bowl and concentrated on eating his lunch, not really paying attention to the others' chatter about 'what the fuck were they even eating' as they dug in. Laura was in the middle of some kinda lesson on pickling for Iggy's entertainment when a chime sounded from Iggy's pocket.

"I must beg your pardon," Iggy said, pulling out his phone. "I set this tone for Sania. I've been anticipating her report for over a week now."

"What is it?" Noct asked.

Iggy's eyes darted over his phone screen for several seconds before his gaze shot up to Laura. When Laura's eyes widened a little, Noct realized they were doing their mind thing, which still kinda weirded him out a little when he thought about it. Iggy turned to him, his expression still a little distracted-looking as he held his phone out.

"You may want to scan this."

Noct grimaced and took the phone, looking down at the attachment.

 _Mr. Scientia:_

 _I don't have the time to write up a full report; there's too much work to do! Here are the basics of what we've found so far._

 _ **Pathology of the Starscourge**_

 _The plasmodia responsible for the contagion has been isolated as the cause for transformation. The strand mutated from insect-borne malarial parasites that incubate within human hosts. Additional studies are being conducted on vectors of transmission, possible immunity, and what causes transformation._

 _A probable vector, though not the primary source, is a nest of festering plasmodium bacteria, which this researcher has coined "the nidus."_

 **Geophysical Survey of Atmospheric Conditions**

 _The presence of soot-like photophilic particles was confirmed in samples of air taken at varying elevations, with notably higher concentrations at higher altitudes. Photophilic particles have begun to subsume the ozone layer, and the observed reduction of daylight on Eos can be attributed primarily to their light-absorbing properties._

 _In addition to this, solar output measured between the hours of 06:00-10:00 and 14:00-19:00 is becoming erratic, with a strong negative correlation in wattage trends. The cause of this is unknown; however, the overall reduction of light output throughout the twenty-four-hour cycle contributes to the effects of the photophilic layer blanketing the atmosphere._

 **Study on the Nature of Photophilic Particles**

 _On examining multiple correlations between the photophilic particles responsible for the blight and the mutant strand of plasmodium associated with the daemons, we have discovered a clear causal relationship. Furthermore, given the mass dispersal of photophilic particles upon death, the daemon presence is likely accountable for the violent ecological shifts as of late._

Noct looked up from the phone in disbelief as he passed it over to Prompto.

"English, Specs."

"What exactly is it that you don't understand?"

"I dunno. All of it?"

"Yeah," Prompto agreed as he passed the phone to Gladio. "Sorry, but my brain just kinda shuts down with science talk."

"First of all," Laura cut in, "You'll need to tell her to keep looking on the Starscourge pathology. The plasmodium may be an initial infection, but no way is it responsible for the transformation. That's like saying a common cold, or in this case, malaria, mutated to turn us all into daemons."

"So a secondary infection, then?" Iggy asked, pulling out his notebook and a pen.

"Gross, Specs," Noct said, making a face. "You didn't just come up with a new recipe, did you?"

Noct swore the withering glare Iggy shot him was capable of melting the flesh off his face, but luckily, Laura distracted him from his annoyance by answering his question.

"Something vicious, like a virus. That thing was rapidly trying to rewrite my DNA, and it might have succeeded if my fourth strand weren't in the fourth dimension. All the foreign nucleotides in my DNA probably had something to do with it, too."

"Do you mean to say that part of your DNA is . . .," he paused, seemingly unable to formulate his thoughts into words.

"Linked to the Time Vortex. One could only see it on a temporally-aligned scanner, but that's not the point. I've seen things like this before, and they're usually viruses. Just a hunch—tell her to look into viruses that affect T-cells."

"I'll pass along the message, but even making this a top priority, it will take some time, I imagine. For all her talents, medical science isn't Dr. Yeagre's bailiwick, and I'm afraid there never were many epidemiologists looking into the subject in Lucis. The research team she's managed to pull together for this is a bit of a hodgepodge, unfortunately."

"I'm sorry, but how can that possibly be? I understand that it's only recently gotten out of control, but haven't you all been aware of this illness's existence for millennia?"

"To be fair, our society lacked the technology to study DNA and viruses for much of that time."

"And then all the universities in Lucis were in Insomnia," Gladio muttered. "And the daemons weren't."

The table went quiet for a moment as they picked at their lunches in thought. Noct had never really considered what kinda lives the people outside Insomnia led. To think that the only people able to get the education to help the world were all living very different lives behind a wall . . .. He knew his dad had done the best he could with what he was given, but it was still so wrong. Things were definitely gonna have to change. He only hoped the guys were up to the challenge, but looking around the table at everyone, he couldn't think of anyone better for the job.

"As the Oracle's powers to heal the scourge were derived of the gods, the golden power of Eos, the cure must somehow be connected to the Crystal, the womb of Eos," Iggy said.

"I can help a bit on determining more about this virus, but it'll have to wait until we get back from Gralea and set Noct up in a safe place to do whatever he's supposed to do with the Crystal," Laura said. "That's our top priority right now."

"Indeed," Iggy agreed.

"I don't get it," Prompto said. "If Eos is the Goddess of the Dawn, why does she have the power to heal the scourge? And why didn't she just heal herself whenever she got infected?"

"She is the embodiment of your star, Goddess of the Dawn, Goddess of the Sun, which brings life, light, and time to mortals," Laura answered. "Her healing power would come from the 'life' portion, I would imagine, but if she was infected, the source of her power would be corrupted. Perhaps her womb was the last clean source, but not enough to save her."

"Isn't that what you're supposed to be? Goddess of the Dawn? Goddess of Time? Whatever?" Noct asked.

Laura nodded. "Yes, but unlike Eos, my titles are based on legends, reputation, and abilities I no longer have. I don't have a symbiotic relationship with any star, anywhere, in any universe."

"And speaking of Eos, notice Sania didn't name Ravatogh as a source for the scourge—Eos's and Ifrit's burning bodies. Should probably tell her that too," Gladio said.

"I hypothesize that because the rate of infection is no more or less than in other areas, the Rock is likely the primary source for the photophilic particles blocking the sun rather than the disease itself," Iggy said. "That which we refer to as the Starscourge appears to be responsible for both the darkness and the mutations."

Prompto pointed his fork at Iggy and asked, "So that's why there're more particles at higher altitudes?"

"Yes, too dispersed to be seen by the naked eye, but carried around the planet by wind currents and settling into the ozone, absorbing our light."

"It's not just that though," Noct said. There was very little of that report he understood, but he did get this much. "Sania says the sun's getting weaker."

Laura nodded. "Yes. Eos grows weaker as she slowly dies, too weak to pierce the layer, so it's only around the time you receive direct rays that you have daylight."

Gladio handed Iggy's phone back to him and said, "And we got another problem. Looks like every time we kill a daemon, it just releases more of those particles into the air. We're making the darkness worse."

"Yes, I noted that," Iggy said before turning to Noct. "With your permission, I would like to inform the Marshal and Dave to immediately effect a policy wherein daemon slaughter is to only take place when lives are directly at stake."

"It won't do much to reduce the spread of particles, but every little bit is better than nothing," Laura agreed.

"Yeah," Noct said with a nod. "Do it."

As Iggy sat back from the table and began typing furiously on his phone, Noct swirled his fork in the pasty beige blob Laura had spooned off to the side of his bowl—watching the way Iggy's eyes would sometimes dart in Laura's direction as he typed, the way she would minutely shake her head slightly in response. How long had they been doing this and he'd just not noticed? But with their connection explained, their cryptic couple thing, the way they would often start a conversation as though they were in the middle of one, made a lot more sense.

Laura took a deep breath, looking around at them all as Iggy continued to type.

"All right, come on! I brought gifts for you guys," she said, scooting back in her chair and standing. "Gladio, you first."

The sword she pulled out of her Pocket in a silver flash of light was unsurprisingly enormous—a broadsword of what looked like mythril, with a crossguard of delicate vines and an emerald about the size of Noct's fist set into the hilt.

"My people didn't make greatswords in the same fashion as you do in Lucis; yours look more like walls of steel. But it's still large and well-suited to your fighting style, I think."

"Damn, Princess," Gladio said appreciatively, standing to take the hilt from her. He took a few steps away and swung the sword up over his head before bringing it down in a wide arc, nearly touching the paving stones with the tip before halting it. "It's really light."

"Yes. The mythril of our world is stronger and holds an edge, so you don't have to sharpen it. But it's light enough that you should be able to move faster on the field."

Dismissing the sword into their armiger, Gladio turned back to her and pulled her into a hug. "Thanks," he said gruffly.

Laura turned to Prompto when she sat back down and said, "Prom, I'm so sorry, but my people didn't have guns or machinery of the type that you prefer. We were what you would probably think of as an ancient civilization."

"Oh," Prompto said, his face falling as he looked down at the table. "That's okay. I'm just glad you're back."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she said, and Prompto looked up, hope transforming his expression as she summoned a bulky bundle of fabric to her hands. "I collected the fleece from a brunostolín and made this for you."

"Wow," Prompto breathed, standing to put the black suede and white fleece coat on over his vest. "I can't believe you made this . . . just for me. And it fits perfect. Thank you!"

"I figured with autumn coming up . . . now you won't have to keep borrowing mine," she said. "It won't make you completely invulnerable to the frost, though, so no date nights with Shiva, if you please."

When she turned to Ignis, his eyes widened a fraction as he said, "What more could you possibly give me?"

She smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up with affection as she summoned two daggers in a flash of silver light before placing them on the table.

"These strengthen your bonds to the Crystal," she began, running her fingers over the shining wooden handles shot through with swirls of inlaid mythril. "I can't smith blades, but I did have to remake the hilts to fit your hands. Therinal donated the wood for you, dear thing that he is. I think he fell a bit in love with you too, listening me chatter on about you so much."

Her touch paused over the gem laid into the hilt of one of the daggers, its red-orange-yellow gradient sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. "These are firestones that Eilendil gave to me. It's said they were taken from the molten heart of Miriásia by the first members of his race when the world was created."

Speechless, Iggy picked up one of the blades and held it close to his face, closely inspecting the pointed etched script that wound up from the guard to the flat in swirling patterns. He nodded once at the blade, and Noct looked over at Laura to see her smile. As weird as it was to not hear Iggy thank someone, he guessed it was unnecessary for the two of them.

When her gaze turned to Noct, he had to look down at the table, awkwardness coiling in his stomach. Even though she'd seemed to match everyone with what seemed like the perfect gift so far, he couldn't think of a single thing she could give him that he would want, and he really didn't want to have to pretend to like something just to make her feel better. He was always terrible at doing that for Hootd, when strangers would give him fancy goblets or swords or something he'd never use.

"Noct, I think between the Royal Armiger and your own favorite sword that you have enough to be getting along with in the way of weapons," she said gravely, and he looked up at her to meet her serious gaze. "Yours was actually quite difficult to come up with because I couldn't think of what you'd need that you don't already have. But then, the answer was too obvious."

His eyes followed hers as she looked at each of the other three sitting around the table.

"Them."

Summoning a sparkling white stone hanging from a silver-white chain, she said, "That diamond will automatically give you all a potion from the armiger if your health is suffering, but you must be nearby. I'm sorry, I tried to embed the ability for the other curatives in there, but the conditions for the spell soon grew too complex. I didn't want to mess it up and accidentally explode someone."

"Yeah, that'd be bad," he breathed out on a chuckle, but he didn't really know what to say. After the altar, he couldn't imagine losing someone, anyone else. His top priority, from now on, was to make sure not a single soul sacrificed themselves for him again. As he unclasped the chain and put it around his neck, he hoped whatever she was reading off his mind would convey what he was feeling as he murmured, "It's perfect. Thanks."

"Each of the items I've given you all will also protect you. I couldn't make you invulnerable, unfortunately, but wielding them should help a little."

"Wait a moment," Iggy said in a sharp tone. "Where exactly is the energy coming from to accomplish this?"

"Pain in the ass," she sighed quietly with a smile. In a louder voice, she said, "Not from me. Magical peoples on my planet stored excess energy in gemstones to use later for casting. I brought a couple to use for myself while I'm here, and you'll notice there are stones on each of your items."

When Prompto opened his mouth, a grimace forming on his face, Laura spoke before he could say anything. "Prom, your coat is lined with small stones between the layers, along the bottom. You'll feel them if you squeeze the fabric between your fingers."

"You sure you wanna give these to us? Seem kinda valuable," Gladio said.

"And imbued with the life force of a powerful, extinct race. That makes them invaluable," Iggy said, still running a hand carefully over the hilts of his daggers.

"I think my people would be happy to see their craftsmanship put to use protecting four good men." Laura said. Her voice grew quiet as her eyes drifted down to the table. "I may have failed them, but I won't fail you. I can't."

"Well . . .," Gladio began as he furrowed his brow down at her, "you guys mind if we find a sparring arena or something so I can try this thing out? Always takes a bit getting used to a new sword."

"Yes, and I should like to get a feel for these as well," Iggy said. "There's a sparring club near the Arena, if it's escaped damage. There should be plenty of space for the four of us, should you care to join, Noct."

"Yeah, let's do that," he said, pushing his empty bowl away. "And then we're gonna call Umbra tonight, right?"

"Indeed."

"That's not exactly gonna be a vacation for you near Ravatogh," Gladio said, looking over to Laura. "You ready for that?"

"I'm aligned and mostly recovered," she said with a shrug, "I'd like to think that Eos and I came to an understanding last time, and Pitioss isn't on the Rock itself. I'll be fine."

After cleaning their dishes up, they all set out toward the Arena, silently walking the meandering route that took them over the temporary rope-plank bridges that he, Gladio, and Prompto had been helping to put up for the last three weeks. Despite the time passed, the once vibrant city felt deserted and desolate, the only flashes of colorful movement being the bright blue and orange tarps that covered roofs Leviathan had destroyed in her fit of rage. They caught the gentle breezes, puffing up with pressure and filling the silent afternoon with an eerie crackling sound that set Noct's teeth on edge.

"Kinda miss that constant obnoxious accordion music," Gladio muttered.

"I still hear it at night when I sleep," Prompto said.

Laura smiled sympathetically. "Well, the place _is_ called Accordo. What do you expect?"

"Holy shit, I just got that," Prompto said, his eyes going wide.

"It _is_ rather clever of them, if a bit repetitive," Iggy said, pausing for a moment to look up at the cheery yellow tower building they'd reached. "And it appears as though the sparring arena is, in fact, still standing."

"Good call, Specs," Noct said as he ushered him through the door. The room wasn't much—just a dusty oval arena surrounded by a white stone half-wall and a wooden path circling the outer edge—but they didn't need anything besides the open space. The place was deserted, not even an attendant in sight, so they'd have plenty of room to spar and even use magic if they wanted. "How'd you find out about this place?"

"Laura and I have been practicing here since we arrived. There are places closer to the city's center, but we preferred the larger space."

Gladio clapped a hand on Laura's shoulder and looked over at Iggy. "Whaddya say we pair off? Me and Ig against Noct and Princess."

"Very well," Iggy said with a grin. "I'll take His Highness. Ground rules?"

"We're here to test the blades, so no magic."

"You _always_ say 'no magic,'" Noct complained, rolling his eyes before glaring at Iggy. "And since when are _you_ my sparring partner?"

"I've schooled you in a great many things to date," Iggy said haughtily, raising his chin in the air. "Call it a scholar's curiosity, to know firsthand what mettle the 'True King' is made of."

"So you guys ready to fight, or you gonna stand there and measure dicks?" Gladio asked.

"Whatever," Noct growled, summoning his ultima blade. "Mine's big enough. You're the one with the little sword, _Gladiolus_."

Even without magic, he was pretty sure he could still take Iggy on. It'd probably be a lot harder to beat him than it had back in Insomnia, but Iggy wasn't the only one that had improved, and apparently, Iggy had come to rely on magic a lot to fight as well.

"Wanna bet?" Gladio growled back, summoning his new broadsword.

"Now, now, gentlemen," Iggy chastised gently before turning to Gladio with a smirk. "Apologies for our delay. I'd never forgive myself if I were responsible for lengthening the conversation to the point where I affect your performance."

"Blimey, you blokes and your testosterone," Laura remarked.

Prompto leaned over the wall, his camera in hand. "You guys don't mind me. I'll just be standing back here collecting memories of Gladio and Noct getting their asses kicked."

"Sorry, Prom," Laura said as she took her place across from Gladio. "I think I've had my fill of being shot at for a while. We could work on some hand-to-hand combat after, if you're interested."

"I dunno . . . maybe," he said, his lips twisting in a grimace. "The blades and the fists and stuff just aren't my thing."

"Regardless of whether you enjoy it, we _should_ involve you today at some point," Iggy said. "One must practice regularly to maintain acquired skills."

"Next time? I wanna see this!"

"Very well, this particular match does already have one agenda, after all," he said with a sigh before turning to Noct. "Are you ready, Highness?"

"Don't hold back on my account, Ig. You see an opening, you take it."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Iggy said with a grin.

When Gladio signaled for them to begin, the four of them ran at each other, blades held at the ready, prepared to strike. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Laura taking a swipe at Gladio's belly, but Noct's attention was immediately pulled away from what looked like was gonna be an interesting fight by the flash of the flat of Iggy's blade across his vision.

"Eyes forward," Iggy instructed, spinning off to the left as Noct tried to tap him on the side.

Noct had fought pretty often with Iggy, even though Gladio was his preferred sparring partner. His usual style involved attack and retreat, regrouping to strategize, then advancing to attack again. Used to Gladio's relentless strikes, Noct would often get bored fighting with Iggy, as his overthinking allowed Noct to let his mind wander. Noct's tendency to get distracted was usually the only way Iggy ended up beating him, really. And while he knew Iggy would be be a lot more difficult to beat this time around, Noct expected him to fall back at least a little on familiar tactics when sparring with a familiar partner.

But as soon as they'd begun, Ig got right within reach of Noct's blade and stayed there with no thought of retreat. At first, Noct thought this position would end the contest even faster, as all he needed to do was reach out to tap him. But every form of advance Gladio taught him couldn't land a touch anywhere on Ignis. Like Laura often did, Iggy started out by making no move to attack, instead holding his blades out in a defensive position as he twisted and spun out of reach before Noct could land a point. Noct gritted his teeth in frustration as Iggy danced just out of his reach, a mocking smile on his face as he moved like he knew what Noct was gonna do before Noct even knew it himself.

"Hold still, you bastard," Noct growled as he swiped his sword at Iggy's arm.

"Language, Noct," he replied with a wider grin, which only pissed Noct off more. "And I believe that would be counter-productive to winning, which is entirely the _point_."

Deciding to get a little sneaky, Noct feinted to the left before spinning to the right as quickly as he could, surreptitiously summoning a durandal in his free hand to strike, but Iggy seemed to anticipate the move, meeting both blades with his daggers. After three more strikes, Noct had to dismiss his second blade—he was never any good at working with his left hand anyway. But as their weapons crossed again, Iggy dismissed his second dagger as well, reaching out to grab Noct by the wrist and twisting his arm up at an angle until Noct's sword fell from his nerveless fingers into Iggy's open palm. Bringing the stolen sword up to Noct's neck, he lightly touched the cold flat of the blade to Noct's skin with a smug smirk and glittering eyes.

"Point to Iggy!" Noct heard Prompto yell from the sidelines, and as Iggy stepped away, Noct looked over to see Prompto jumping up and down like a damn cheerleader.

"I taught you better than that, Noct," Gladio said with a frown as he walked toward them, his sword over his shoulder and his chest heaving. "Never let your emotions control your actions in a battle."

"To be fair, I was taunting him just a bit. Call it revenge for the past," Iggy said, his smirk softening into a more genuine smile. "I've found that no opponent can get under one's skin more than one's own familiars."

"That's no excuse," Gladio growled.

Noct shot him a glare. Yeah, it sucked he'd been beaten, but Iggy'd also been taking private lessons from a god, so it was hardly a fair fight. "Oh yeah? How'd you do then?"

Gladio let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. "She kicked my ass. Probably always will. Not gonna stop me from trying. I'll catch her off guard one of these days."

"Keep dreaming, Princess!" Laura called out from behind him. When Iggy and Gladio turned, she came up between them, putting an arm around each of their shoulders. "Well? Did you get a feel for them? Are they all right?"

"Oh yeah, babe," Gladio said with a wink. "Feels like I can go all night with this thing."

Laura rolled her eyes up at him. "Men and their sword jokes." Turning to Iggy, she asked, "And you?"

"They seem to be perfectly suited to my hands and style. Will the wooden hilts withstand the elemental extremes?"

"Just as effectively as any mythril," she said with a smile.

Noct didn't really know what made him say it; maybe he was a little miffed at being beat and wanted to see Iggy taken down a notch or two. But before he even thought about it, he opened his mouth to say, "Why don't you two go next?"

"Oh hell yeah," Gladio agreed, leering down at Laura. "Think it's about time you show us what you got."

"Well," she drawled, "I've got the moves, but I wouldn't want to boast."

"Aww, come on! Please?" Prompto begged.

Iggy's and Laura's eyes met, and Laura raised a single eyebrow at him. Iggy tilted his head a little as though in thought before giving a little mouth shrug, as if to say, "Why not?" and watching the two of them, Noct supposed he probably was.

With a fake exasperated sigh, Iggy said, "Oh, very well then. I only ask the rest of you vacate the ring for this. We tend to use the entire space."

As Noct and Gladio made their way to the barrier separating the ring from the walkway, Prompto said, "Hey, wait, how do you guys fight if you're reading each other's minds? Won't you know what the other person's gonna do?"

"Come now, what fun would that be? We can shield our thoughts from one another when we wish." Laura said. "He's actually getting to the point where he can land a blow on me now and then unless I play unfair and begin to move faster than a human can."

Noct leaned over the wall next to Prompto, watching as Iggy and Laura moved to the center of the ring with their weapons in hand.

"Would you care to dance with me?" Iggy asked with a crooked smile.

"With pleasure."

Without another word or sign, they advanced on each other, meeting blade for blade with surprising speed and ferocity for a first attack.

Back in Insomnia, it was common, even required, for younger trainees to use wooden practice swords to spar so opponents wouldn't accidentally slice each other open. By the time the four of them had left Insomnia, Cor and Clarus were only just beginning to trust them to spar with live weapons, but even then, it wasn't a common practice to attack with anything but the flat of the blade. It'd been hard—and scary as hell—sparring with Gladio those first few times with live swords, but Noct had grown used to it over these past months.

Iggy and Laura, however, weren't attacking each other with flats at all.

Laura showed Ignis no mercy, swiping the edge of a falchion across his neck, which might have slit his throat if he hadn't leaned back in time. Still, from where Noct was standing, she'd come so close that it looked like blood _should've_ been pouring from his throat. Iggy twisted to duck under another blow, setting his blades on fire with the flick of the wrists and thrusting at her abdomen, but Laura spun off to his side, stabbing out to bury a falchion tip in his flank.

"Now, now, I'll not allow you the satisfaction of skewering me alive, woman," Iggy said with a careless laugh as he danced away. "I didn't plan for kebabs on the menu tonight."

"If I intended to make a kebab of you, I'd summon a lance," she shot back, crouching down to avoid an electric dagger to the shoulder before swiping out a leg to catch Iggy's feet. Dismissing his blades, he fell into a backhand spring before summoning them again.

Was this what they'd been doing these past couple of months? Brutally attacking each other? Noct totally understood now why Iggy came back from sparring with Laura every morning covered in sweat, but this wasn't even what he would consider sparring. This was no-holds-barred, flat-out war—vicious, merciless, dangerous as hell, and they were laughing and quipping like they were doing nothing more than hurling toothpicks at each other.

Noct's breath caught in his throat as Iggy set fire to a dagger, tossing it casually in the air and kicking it—sending it spiraling in a flash of silver and flame right toward Laura's heart, but Laura spun to the right, dismissing a falchion and catching the flaming blade by the tip.

"You know you can't butcher and cook meat at the same time, right?" Laura asked before flinging the fiery blade toward Iggy's head.

Twirling to the side, Iggy held out a casual hand, dismissing the dagger and immediately summoning it back to his hand.

"And what would _you_ know about preparing meat?"

Laura grinned wickedly as he leapt in the air, raising both blades high above his head to stab down at her from both sides, but she slid underneath his feet, dismissing her blades and catching him by the boots to knock him on his face.

"I don't think you'd want me to answer that in front of the guys, dear."

Iggy tucked and rolled, jumping up to his feet at the end of the maneuver and re-summoning his weapons to stab an icicle into her chest. Before he could make contact, Laura kicked his hand aside and planted her boot firmly in the dirt, following her momentum through to bring the other leg up to take a swipe to his head. Noct had seen her make this move with Gladio once, and Iggy must've too, because he dismissed his blades immediately and grabbed her leg, twisting mercilessly.

Laura landed on the ground hard, blinking up at Iggy as a slow smile, dripping with pride, spread across her face.

"Uh . . . point to Ig," Prompto muttered as Iggy grabbed a hand to help Laura to her feet.

"She let me win," Iggy said with a scowl as they made their way to the wall with the rest of them.

"If I'd been human, you'd have won that fair and square. I'm happy to kick your ass in private if it helps you improve, but you can guarantee I'm going to play fair with everyone watching."

"You guys looked like you were about to slit each other's guts out!" Prompto exclaimed as he bounced over to Laura.

"One helluva show," Noct said with a slap to Iggy's shoulder. "Nice job, Specs. Gonna have to keep an eye on you from now on."

"Thank you, Noct, but even keeping two eyes on me may not be enough, as I've been reliably informed that I possess four," he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a long finger.

Gladio threw an arm around Laura's neck and rubbed a rough fist through her hair. "That was some kinda shit, you guys. Whaddya say we get rid of the swords for now and teach the kid some moves?"

"M-me?" Prompto stammered, wincing and rubbing at the back of his neck. "Yeah, guess I better."

"Round three, it is," Iggy agreed.

* * *

Noct sat on the edge of the bed between Prompto and Laura, staring at Iggy and Gladio, who were perched on their own bed.

"So . . . do we change into our pajamas or get under the covers, or . . . what?" Prompto asked.

"Guess we just call Umbra and find out," Laura said with a shrug.

Iggy shook his head and scoffed. "We're really doing this, and you have absolutely no insight into the process?"

"Oi! It's not like I don't have a more natural way of time traveling, you know. Can you blame me for not knowing if I've never done it by dog before?"

"Well, there must be _some_ commonality in the experience," Iggy said with a huff.

"Um, yeah . . . the time traveling part. We're going to travel in time."

"All right, shut up, both of you," Noct interrupted before Specs could come up with some snarky response. It hadn't taken them long to get back to their arguing thing, it seemed, and Noct wondered if they'd spent the last week locked up in their room bickering about pointless stuff like this.

Holding the amulet Gentiana had given him tightly in his fist, he sighed and said, "Here goes nothing."

Laura had said the amulet had a strong telepathic link with Umbra, so he guessed talking in his mind was the best way to contact him? Picturing the black and silver dog in his head, he tried to reach out . . . or whatever.

 _Uh . . . Umbra? We'd like to go back to Lucis, please._

"Noct," Gladio said, reaching over the space between them to poke him on the shoulder

"What?" he asked irritably, opening his eyes to glare at him, but a high-pitched whine to his right caught his ear. "Oh."

"Umbra," Laura said softly, standing from the bed to kneel in front of the dog. She reached out with both hands and stopped on either side of Umbra's head just short of contact. "May I?"

Umbra's mouth fell open, his tongue lolling out as he panted and lips stretched into what almost looked like a smile, and Laura brought her fingertips to rest against the dog's head.

"What's she doing?" Prompto leaned over to whisper to Iggy.

Iggy raised an eyebrow as though the answer was obvious. "She appears to be initiating telepathic contact with Umbra."

"Yeah, I see that. But . . . I thought that was like, a romantic thing only. Is she like . . ."

"Prompto?" Iggy interrupted, an edge to his voice, "If you value your life, I must insist that you stop right there."

"What're you doing?" Noct asked as Laura bowed her head, touching her forehead gently to Umbra's. He whimpered at the contact, and she ran her fingers soothingly down his fluffy black ears.

"Pryna was Umbra's sister and dearest friend," Laura said softly. "I'm offering our condolences."

"Oh," Noct said as she stood to take her place on the bed again. "Yeah, we're sorry to hear about Pryna. Um. . . is there anything we can do?"

When the dog made no signs of replying, Noct didn't really know what else to say besides, "Then, um . . . could you please take us back to Lucis?"

Though Umbra still made no move, Noct felt his eyes grow heavy until he was swallowed in darkness.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I also want to acknowledge OS from the FFXV Reddit server again for the amazing help she offered with the scourge pathology. I took it a slightly different way, but she was completely right that there was no way a plasmodium could be responsible for this, not matter how mutated, and that a secondary infection had to be the primary culprit.


	63. Chapter 63

**Author's Note:**

Some Rated M NSFW in this chapter.

* * *

"Weird, this is just . . . weird," Prompto said, running his hand over the shining black door of the Regalia. "I mean, the Regalia's on the boat in Altissia right now."

Noct nodded in agreement, his eyes following Takka through the diner window as the proprietor made his way from a booth back to his counter. "It's like a dream, but real."

 _This does feel remarkably like our nights on the bridge,_ Ignis said.

Not being a time sensitive creature, Ignis couldn't detect whatever it was that was making Laura continuously run her tongue along the roof of her mouth in agitation, but he believed there was something ethereal about the atmosphere, something empty-feeling in the air that made it seem as though he were dreaming.

 _Are you all right?_ he asked when she shook her head violently as though to clear it.

 _There's no continuity here. The braid you gave me this morning is gone. Time feels . . . folded in on itself. We're our past selves, but also not. Even the Regalia shouldn't be here. It should be wherever our past selves are right now._

 _You didn't answer my question. Don't think I haven't noticed you've been tense since last night. Are you certain you're fully recovered?_

 _This is nothing to do with me. Really, love, I'm fine._ Her eyes went blank as she stared off to the horizon. _The skin of the universe grows thin here as well, yet differently—faster, affecting time._

 _I don't understand,_ he admitted.

Shaking her head and looking up at him searchingly, she said, _Nor do I, really. It's one of those things we just have to wait on and see, but something big is happening both here and back in Altissia._

 _So, like every other day, then._

"So, could we like, use Umbra to go back in time and fix . . . everything?" Prompto asked.

"Do you _want_ to destroy the world?" Gladio shot back before nodding at Ignis. "Same reason we had to be careful around little Iggy."

"I do wish you would stop referring to him as 'little Iggy,'" Ignis replied with a frown, though he had to admit he had no suitable alternatives for his past-self.

Before Gladio could respond, Laura thankfully spoke up, "It doesn't matter anyway. I told you the amulet would prevent paradoxes. You do anything drastic, and we're likely to end up back in Altissia before we break time."

"Okay, so first thing on our agenda's the diary, right?" Noct asked.

"Yeah," she said. "I'll rent the chickens for all of us just in case something happens to the car. Ignis, do you want to check the fuel in the Regalia? Gods only know what the tank is at."

"Certainly," he said, reaching out for the keys in his mind, hoping they were in the armiger as they normally would be. When a flash of light brought them to his palm, he let out a quiet breath. With the luck of the gods, things would continue running this smoothly—even if all logical progression of time had been thrown out the window.

"The rest of you can head to the diner, if you want. Find out what day it is, pick up some hunts if you like, and maybe find out if anything significant is going on. It may just be chance that we landed here specifically, but it may not be."

Laura turned toward the chocobo rental post out by the road while the others ambled toward the diner to do as she suggested, chatting excitedly at the prospect of being home again. With a deep sigh of the air of his homeland, Ignis opened the car door and leaned over the seat, inserting the key to turn on the fuel indicator—a full tank, it would seem.

Shutting the car door and leaning against it, Ignis took a moment in solitude to gaze out at the familiar dry, dusty plains of the Weaverwilds, contemplating just how completely his life had changed since he'd first set eyes on the vast blue sky and the misty mountains on the horizons, how much he himself had changed. Though the bright, hot landscape was familiar in a way that suggested not-quite-home-but-close to Ignis, it seemed somehow too small, too pure to fit the man he'd become. Though he sometimes mourned the loss of his innocence, he couldn't find it in himself to regret for a moment the lives he'd taken in the name of his homeland, in the name of his brother and king. And with the bitter came the sweet—the camaraderie he'd found in his four friends, the true brotherhood he'd discovered with Noct, the enduring love and unimaginable adventure he'd captured with his wife.

He may have no longer been a child, but Ignis slept with his head pillowed among the stars now. He dreamed of centaurs, supernovas, lost knowledge, and his very own goddess. He had drunk the ambrosia of adventure from the chalice of life, and it was true what they said: one couldn't go home again—not to find it exactly as one had left it, anyway.

"Hold on! Greedy thing!" he heard Laura laugh, and he turned to see her standing out by the road, an unfamiliar red fruit or vegetable held aloft behind her as she tried to push away Saracchian's eager, snapping beak.

With a soft smile, Ignis made his way out to the road to join them.

 _Should I be jealous?_ he asked as he approached carefully so as not to startle the bird. Saracchian munched contentedly on his snack with his eyes closed as Laura buried her hand deep into his downy feathers to rub his breastbone.

 _Are you?_ she asked, her tone growing amused.

"What is this like for you, eh?" she asked Saracchian softly. "Are you dreaming of me now? Or am I dreaming of you?"

 _Hardly. He doesn't get to do this, after all._

Stepping closer to her side, Ignis sent her the sensation of his lips just behind her ear, smirking a little to himself as she shuddered at the touch. He looked up just in time to see Saracchian, who had just finished shredding the chunk of what Ignis assumed to be fruit, shake his head violently, flinging bits of the red, juicy flesh in all directions.

"Eugh!" Laura complained, throwing up a hand to shield herself as Ignis ducked behind her. "Should've seen that coming." When Saracchian reached out again for the other half of the fruit, Laura held it back from him. "Hold on! Ignis gets some too! Here."

Turning her back to the nosy creature, she quickly peeled back a bit of the bright red skin to detach several juice-packed seeds, which reminded Ignis somewhat of small, ruby-red corn kernels. Once Saracchian had snapped up the rest of the fruit, Laura grazed her free hand down Ignis's arm, pulling up his hand and placing the seeds carefully in his palm.

"Careful not to pop them, or they'll stain your gloves. They're not my favorite, but they're interesting. Go ahead and try."

"I'll admit I wasn't feeling at all peckish, but all right." He put his hand to his mouth and tipped his head back, letting the cool, sweet kernels fall on his tongue. They popped in his mouth as he chewed, releasing their bright, tangy, astringent juice and filling his ears with the sound of the grind of his teeth against the hard centers of the seed pouches.

Tilting his head in thought, he said, "These would certainly brighten up a nutty grain, such as a wild rice, or perhaps go well as a sweet, acidic component in a salad. What's it called?"

"Pomegranate. They're often used in both those dishes on Earth, but I've found they're one of Saracchian's favorite treats."

He reached a careful hand up to stroke the bird's neck, stepping to the side to avoid the inevitable shower of pomegranate gore. He'd been doubtful when Laura had initially chosen Saracchian, as they hadn't the time to compensate for a high-strung and delicate-nerved animal on their travels, though he'd kept his opinion to himself at the time. The bird had proven him wrong, however. Though he was still skittish around humans not in their party, he'd proven to be a hardy and courageous mount, eager to protect Laura on their travels and just as dependable as Calima.

 _He really is a magnificent creature,_ he said, running his fingers through the glossy black feathers of Saracchian's wing, _and to think he may have spent the rest of his life alone in the dark._

Laura summoned a towel to wipe Saracchian's beak clean, but her eyes shot to his at his words. She seemed to study him for a moment before saying, _Actually, I was just thinking about how little time I've spent with him. He doesn't find as much solace with Wiz as the others do._

 _I've had similar thoughts of Calima every time I dismount. They do so much for us without any thought of reward, yet we only call on them when we need them._

Laura gave Saracchian a final pat, and the two of them had just begun to walk together to the Crow's Nest to join the others when she stopped suddenly and turned back to the bird. Reaching up to grasp the straps of his bridle, she pulled his head down to her level.

 _Listen to me. If the darkness comes, come find me. Bring your brothers and sisters. If I'm not here, make your way to the City of Light. You'll be safer there._

 _Does he truly understand you?_

Laura shook her head a little as she released her hold on Saracchian's head. Coming back to Ignis's side again so they could make their way to the diner together, she said, _I don't know. Speaking with animals has always been something Lliamérians could do, but the connection is so muted here._

Ignis had only just averted his eyes from the somewhat disconcerting Kenny Crow mascot sitting on the bench just outside the door to the diner when an unfamiliar voice called out behind them.

"I'd always wondered if you two survived that day."

Turning to face the woman, Ignis recognized her immediately as the one Laura had helped to repair her broken-down vehicle their very first day out of Insomnia.

"Shawna," Laura greeted, turning to give the pregnant woman a hug as though they were long-lost friends.

"A pleasure to see you again," he greeted with a nod when she and Laura had separated. "I do hope you're well."

"Well enough, given . . . everything," she replied with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Cami's with her grandmother. She's mentioned you a time or two since that day. She'll be glad to know you're all right."

"And Jason?" Laura asked, but Ignis already knew by her interpretation of the woman's mind what her answer would be. The man Ignis assumed to be her husband, the Glaive, had likely passed in the attack.

Shawna bit her lip and looked down at the ground, shaking her head, and without another word, Laura pulled her back into her arms.

"Okay, so it's three days before we left Caem, but there's nothing major going on as far as we . . ." Noct began as he stepped over the threshold of the diner and onto the stoop, but he halted on catching sight of Ignis standing somewhat awkwardly next to Laura holding a sobbing pregnant woman. "Oh."

"Your Majesty!" Shawna exclaimed, pulling back from Laura, furiously wiping at her eyes, and dipping her head into a bow. "Forgive me, my hormones have been all over the place lately."

Seeing Noct at a loss for how to handle himself, Ignis stepped in. "Ms. Shawna—"

 _Her last name is Marian_ , Laura supplied before his hesitation could be made apparent.

"Marian. She happened to be the one responsible for buying us lunch our first day in Leide."

"Then we should pay her back. What was it, Specs? Five thousand gil?" Noct asked with a slight smile—probably the most genuine expression Ignis had seen on his face since the battle.

"Indeed," Ignis said, summoning the funds. Laura took them from him and pressed the cash into Shawna's hands as the woman shook her head in protest.

"I—I— I didn't give you that much! And it was for your help. I would have never— _we_ would have never seen Jason if it weren't for . . .," she paused for a moment, her eyes widening at Noct as she seemed to realize something. "I need you to know—my husband would _never_ betray Lucis. He was faithful to the King."

"Shawna's husband Jason was a Glaive in the Fall," Ignis explained softly at Noct's blank expression.

"Oh," Noct said, raising his eyebrows. "Um, well . . . consider it interest and a thank you for helping us that day. And . . .."

Noct's expression hardened into firm resolve as he spoke his next words, and in all Ignis's life, he'd never seen him look so much like his father, not even when making his promises to Talcott.

"We're gonna get our homes back. And then we're gonna start making this world a better place—for everyone. Jason Marian won't be forgotten. We won't let his death be for nothing."

Once they'd gracefully extricated themselves from the somewhat difficult conversation, Gladio and Prompto joined them as they walked to the Regalia.

"You did well," Ignis said as he pulled on the handle to the Regalia.

"Spoken like a true king," Gladio agreed.

As Noct slid into the back seat, he shut the door roughly behind him and slumped against the window with a sigh. "Yeah? And where did _you_ guys go? You were right behind me!"

"It uh. . . looked like you had things under control," Prompto said.

Getting comfortable behind the wheel, Ignis took a moment for the nostalgia to settle before turning to the back seat. "To Caem, Highness?"

"Dunno. We picked up a few hunts in the area, but this time thing's your deal, Laura. What do you think?"

"I'd like to get there by the morning before we left so we have time to put the map in the diary before Prompto brings it up at dinner the night before we leave."

Gladio turned to look back at Laura, saying, "That leaves us today and part of tomorrow to get down there. We could do these hunts, drop off that stone we got from Costlemark for Dino, and maybe pick up some more assignments in Galdin and Taelpar if we have the time."

"Sounds good," Laura agreed. "Depending on how long it takes us to do Pitioss, we might stop by Lestallum and give Vyv those photos of Ravatogh and the haunted painting."

 _And if it's all right with you, I'd like to re-visit the Disc tonight when we sleep,_ she added.

 _Of course,_ he replied. _Is there a particular reason for the sudden curiosity?_

"It'll be no prob to just email them and have him send the cash out with one of his buddies to Verinas or something," Prompto said.

"We may have to. We need to assume Umbra's going to take us back after however many days we've been here, not necessarily the moment we left Altissia. We don't want to miss our train."

 _Now that I've seen Titan's rock manipulation capabilities in action, I'm wondering about those arches, that mythril wing, and the fact that it's located in what was once the Solheimian Empire. And then there's that meteor and its glowing shards. What is that meteor made of that it's still burning from piercing through the atmosphere all those years ago?_

"So, the hunts first, then," Ignis verified.

 _And what else is that material capable of?_ he asked. _You make several good points. Tonight it is._

"Yeah," Noct said.

* * *

"You're really, really, REALLY pretty, you know that?" Prompto giggled before taking another indecorous slurp from his wine glass and leaning further into Laura's side.

Gladio threw his head back, emptying his flask into his awaiting mouth. "Damn," he muttered, shaking the reptilian leather vessel before replacing the gold cap. "Careful. That's a married woman you're talkin' to."

"I would say it's more in poor taste pouring wine on her as you are now," Ignis remarked, raising an eyebrow at the precarious angle of Prompto's drink.

Prompto's attention darted down to his glass, and on seeing the slow drip that was spilling onto Laura's shorts, he jerked it straight, managing to slosh nearly half the contents into his own lap. "Oh, shit. Sorry, Laura!"

"Think she's safe. There's only so much game you can bring when the girl's got a chicken head in her lap, anyway," Noct said with a laugh. "Specially if you're too tipsy to keep your drink in your own glass."

Ignis looked up from the cards he had spread across the floor of the haven to where Noct was leaned back against Byrrus, his hands resting behind his head as he gazed up at the stars with a dreamy expression. When Gladio had first suggested they break out the wine in celebration of their return to their 'good old camping days,' Ignis had resolutely practiced moderation in anticipation of Noct growing morose and brooding. Of course, even if that hadn't happened, it had been rather fortunate that he'd done so, as Noct and Prompto had ended up in a heated debate over whose boots smelled worse after a day slogging through puddles—which somehow had resulted in the two of them wrestling precariously close to the edge of the haven in an effort to shove one another's footwear in their faces. Ignis, at least, had consumed just the right amount to find the display more entertaining than disgusting.

But despite the Prince's seemingly good mood since their return to Lucis, Ignis wasn't a fool. The moment he'd seen Noct's eyes tighten at the mention of his relationship status with Rose earlier this afternoon (or was that now considered yesterday?), he understood all too well what was running through the Prince's mind and had since done his best to maintain a platonic distance from his wife out of respect for Noct's loss. Of course, all the distance in the world was going to make very little difference if Gladio kept bringing the matter up. He shot Gladio a brief glare of dissatisfaction for his tactlessness before turning to Noct to change the subject.

"Don't tell me you've taken to Laura's penchant for improperly naming animals. You've never even _seen_ a chicken. Or do you merely enjoy egging me on?"

 _He really seems okay, love,_ Laura said, her eyes twinkling in amusement as she leaned her head against Prompto's. _He's enjoying this moment—being here with you all._

"Laura's stuff's more fun to say, and yeah . . . I kinda like how much it irritates you," Noct replied with a quirk of his lips.

"Yeah, I'll take rhinoceros over dualhorn any day," Prompto agreed. "Wayyyy more fun to say! Rhino-winoceros!"

"Don't forget zebra—zebra . . . what was it?" Noct asked, looking over to Laura. "The ones with the shoes."

Ignis had suspected Noct had also imbibed a touch too much this evening, as he didn't believe Laura's attempt to rewrite Lucian taxonomy included adding footwear, but she surprised him by answering, "Zebrafalopes, dear."

"To the zebrafalopes with their fancy red shoes!" he said with a giggle, raising his glass in the air as a toast.

 _Dare I ask to which creature you're referring?_

"You guys are gettin' dangerously close to bein' shitfaced," Gladio groaned. But then he said in a smaller, chuckling voice, "Those catoblepas do kinda look like mopheads though."

"Personally, bone-icorns are my favorite," Laura said, raising her own glass in cheers before taking a sip and setting it down in front of her.

She leaned further back against Saracchian, pulling Prompto deeper into her side and gently taking his glass from him. _An arba. Now come on, pour yourself another glass of wine and finish your dinner before someone else does. I have plans for you tonight._

 _Really? And what might those be?_ he asked.

As much as he typically enjoyed his solitude with their connection glowing passively in his mind, reminding him that she was only a thought away, he'd been, well, rather clingy today, as much as he hated to admit it. But she'd been _dead_ , and despite this past week spent snuggling deep inside her mind and slumbering wrapped around her body, he hadn't quite yet been ready to leave their sanctuary, hadn't been prepared for just how much it would chafe at his nerves to sit even this far from her and pretend as though he didn't wish to be entwining his fingers with hers in that very moment. When had he grown so needy? He hoped that nagging sensation ceased soon; he didn't care for it. As much as he adored Rose, he still valued his independence.

Still, if she were planning something for the two of them tonight, perhaps it would relieve that ache that had nestled in his chest.

"Man, I kinda missed this," Gladio said in a low voice as he stared at the white-hot ash and blackened wood flickering in the shrinking orange flames.

"Yeah, who woulda thought I'd miss sleeping in a tent with your snoring, smelly ass?" Noct laughed.

 _Yes, it'll pass. But I've missed you today, too. So I was thinking . . . a life adventure tonight,_ she answered mysteriously.

Ignis raised his eyes to the canopy of Duscaean pines above, where he could just make out the black sky and a spattering of stars between the swaying branches. They couldn't leave the haven in his current condition. Though he had reasonable control of his faculties, that burning glow rising from his belly to his cheeks was enough evidence that he was in no shape to be out in the wild after nightfall; it would be folly even with her protection. And then there was Noct to consider should they stay here at the haven.

 _I won't torment him with our relationship, no matter how much I miss you._

 _And_ _ **you**_ _should know by now that the very foundation of our relationship is to allow you the very best of both worlds. Now as I said, pour yourself another glass, get yourself reasonably soused, and defend your dinner from the invading hordes._

Ignis eyed his plate just in time to gently swat Calima's outstretched beak from snapping up the last of his creamy milk risotto and sautéed greens.

"Oi! Foul fowl, pilfering my dinner! Have you been unlearning your manners as a result of Kaze's influence?"

"Oi?" Noct asked, raising his head to stare incredulously. "Did you just say . . . _oi_?"

Ignis sniffed, perhaps somewhat haughtily, and poured himself another glass of wine, enjoying the aesthetic of the light from the fire setting the burgundy liquid aglow as it splashed into the bottom of the glass. The bottle almost seemed to gurgle happily as he continued to pour.

Perhaps he _had_ drunk just enough to erode that filter he always seemed to require for that mouth of his."And so what if I did?" he challenged.

"Been hanging around Laura way too long, sounds like," Gladio said as he stood and, after a pat to Kaze's giant blue head, pointed a thumb to the tent. "Anyway, I'm kinda wiped after all that sparring today, or yesterday, or whatever—specially after the hunts. Gonna pass out."

After they all bade him goodnight, Prompto looked up from his phone to say, "Yeah, why _do_ you guys have the same accent anyway? I mean, you aren't even from the same planets."

"Lots of planets have a Britain," Laura said with that secret, lopsided smile on her face and that sparkle in her eyes. "It's a big universe. Everything happens somewhere. Call it a coincidence. Call it an idea echoing among the stars."

And what a coincidence _that_ had been. One of the first adventures Rose had taken him on had been to several cities and counties in what she'd considered her home country—Surrey, Cambridge, Oxford, London . . . the people of which sounded and acted remarkably like him, displaying almost proudly that 'British stiff upper lip,' as Rose had called it. The moment he'd accidentally jostled someone on the street, had turned to beg their pardon, and heard an almost identical "I beg your pardon" in return, he knew he had, oddly enough, on an entirely different planet and in an entirely different universe, found his people. It hardly mattered at all that the person in question was literally a figment of Laura's imagination.

Without removing his eyes from his phone screen, Prompto slid further down so his head was resting in Laura's lap. She looked down at him, a fond smile spreading over her lips before her expression suddenly fell to a frown.

"Why don't you let me take that for now?" she asked, pulling the phone out of his rapidly darting thumbs.

"No! I was workin' on somethin' REALLY important!" he protested, reaching out for the phone, but she dismissed it to her Pocket before his fingers could close around it.

"Yeah, I know, and now's not the time for working. Now's the time for relaxing! You'll probably have a different outlook on it tomorrow, anyway."

"Whatcha workin' on?" Noct asked.

Prompto sat up suddenly, nearly smacking Laura in the chin with his head as he scrambled to look over at Noct. "I was texting Cor. See? I got this totally failproof plan for the next time he busts a base, and he's gotta get the word out ASAP! And it'll be totally fun for the Glaives to do, like a game!"

"And what is this game plan?" Ignis asked suspiciously.

"A distraction! See? You get like, four or five Glaives in a car, and when they drive up to the front, they all pull their pants down and hang their asses out the window! BAM. Everyone's distracted."

"And then you send in a squad from the rear, I imagine," Ignis said, rolling his eyes. "Yes, I can see how that would be a plan anyone would be mooning over."

 _Thank you,_ he said. _The last thing we need is for the Marshal to get wind of the fact that we're all intoxicated and butting heads out here._

 _I told you—I've got you covered. You just sit back, relax, and act your age for once._

 _And what, precisely, are you implying by that statement?_ he demanded, but she knew he was merely feigning ignorance. Though he had no desire to truly behave in the manner that Noct and especially Prompto were, she knew he was capable of finding his own fun when he allowed his head to go warm and fuzzy with drink. His thoughts lingering sadly on the idea that she couldn't truly become inebriated along with him, he said, _I don't want to leave you out._

 _The price I pay for superior physiology. Trust me. I'll be having my own brand of fun._

"You remember that one time you pissed off that nagarani just cause you wanted to know what it felt like to be a toad?" Prompto giggled.

"Toadally worth it though!" Noct said, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed. "Not like you weren't right there to give me the maiden's kiss."

"Well, that's not suggestive at all," Laura mumbled.

Ignis took a sizeable draught of the dry, woody wine; he had a feeling he was going to need it for this conversation. "And where, may I ask, was I for this little experience?"

Noct yawned lazily before replying, "Busy. It was when all those red giants popped out of the ground in Costlemark and Laura was nerding out over the circles in the floor."

"Excuse me? Nerding out? I found an anomaly in time and space just casually set into the floor of some ancient ruins. You think I'm just going to ignore that? And I bet that one was connected to the first one we saw at the entrance—only I couldn't find out because _someone_ wouldn't let me try it."

"The very fact that you followed my advice and abstained proves you were in no shape to handle the consequences, woman," Ignis shot back.

"Oh ho! Iggy's layin' down the law! Get your woman under control! Crack that whip! _Wha-chew!_ " Prompto said, making the motion of cracking a whip with his fist at Laura.

Ignis leaned forward, placing his palm on Prompto's forehead and pushing him back into Laura's side. "That's quite enough from you, thank you."

"Hey!" Prompto protested as he unsuccessfully attempted to pull himself from Laura's lap and upright again.

"Gotta say, Specky," Noct said, shaking his head, "you sure have changed."

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah," he said with a warm smile, reaching over to push his shoulder. His bright blue eyes shot to Laura briefly before focusing back on him. "I like it. Keep it up."

Several glasses of wine and a rather horrifying game of _Would You Rather?_ later, and Noct and Prompto were heading to the tent, citing their need to get to bed before midnight, as Ignis would no doubt have them up at the 'butt crack of dawn,' which he intended to.

"Be sure to put your laundry outside the tent so I can take care of it later," he called back to them.

Noct spun around, nearly stumbling over as he gave a sloppy two-fingered salute. "You got it, Sergeant Specs."

"I should think I would've earned a promotion by now," he teased, inclining his head to give Noct a stern look.

Noct raised his eyebrows as his lips parted in surprise. "You really took that seriously? You're already Hand of the King. Whaddya need a military rank for?"

"Perhaps I'm simply waiting for the day I outgrow my moniker," he replied, but he let his eyes grow soft and his smile warm at his words.

"Never," Noct laughed. "Night, Specs. Don't do anything I wouldn't."

"Night, you guys! Remember, tomorrow we start Operation Moon Base!" Prompto said, punching a fist in the air in triumph before ducking under the tent flap.

"Wait," Laura said when they'd zipped the tent closed, "'Specs' isn't because of your glasses?"

"A rather clever appellation given to me in our youth—referring to both my glasses and my first rank in the Crownsguard. He was so pleased with himself that the nickname stuck despite several promotions."

"Specialist."

"Indeed."

It grew quiet—he could hear nothing but the chirping of insects and that subtle psithurism that reminded him of Lliaméra as he let his head loll back against Calima's saddle to gaze up at the teasing peeks of stars through the canopy. That warm, sharp tang of leather mixed with the scent of bird and smoke of the campfire, creating a heady aroma that reminded him of good times. Laura's thread was glimmering behind his eyes, intensifying the slow, syrupy ooze of his thoughts and that incandescent filament glowing in his chest as he smiled like a fool up at the sky.

She slowly got to her feet and stood over him, the light in her lapis eyes reminiscent of the phosphorescent inner light of her other body in a way that made his blood sing with remembered arousal. Already, he missed that body—the novelty of it, the way it highlighted that he truly had married divinity. But this human body of hers was nearly as ethereal and certainly as enticing. Were her plans for him of a carnal nature this evening? He couldn't see how, trapped on the haven as they were, and he had to admit he felt somewhat guilty for even thinking of wanting her so soon after the day he'd spent filling her with seed and pleasure.

Brushing aside his lewd thoughts, he gave her a slow, half-lidded grin as he said, _Well? It appears as though I'm all yours for the evening, though I do have some chores to complete. What did you have in mind?_

 _Frack the chores. Let me do them later. Come with me,_ she said, holding out a hand.

The wine must have gone to his head more than he'd originally believed, as his equilibrium faltered when she pulled him to his feet, and he gripped her shoulders to steady himself. Taking his hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulders with a sparkling, wicked smile, she led him away from the tent and past the fire. He only hesitated for a moment when they stepped off the safety of the haven runes and onto the packed dirt of the forest path, as she immediately headed in the direction of the Regalia, parked under the safety of the daemon-repelling lights. Terrible shape though he was in, he trusted that _she,_ at least, could take on anything that would appear in those five hundred feet, unlikely though for such an event to occur in such a short distance.

"Get in there," she said when they had unlocked the Regalia and opened the back door. He stumbled a bit as she both pushed him into the back seat and held a hand against his head so he wouldn't hit it against the roof of the car as he fell. He had only just scrambled to the middle of the seat and pulled himself into a sitting position when Laura crawled in after him, shutting the door behind her and nearly leaping into his lap.

"Ignis," she whispered, wrapping her fingers around his jaw and leaning down for a frantic kiss, biting at his lips as she pressed forcefully against his mouth.

"Mmmf," was all he could manage in response, but he had at least enough dexterity left in him to bring one hand up to remove the clip from her hair and one hand down the back of her shorts to grab a handful of flesh. His muddled thoughts eventually caught up to the state in which he'd suddenly found himself, and he reluctantly ripped his lips from hers. "Rose, we can't, not here," he protested feebly. A weak argument, to be certain, as she could likely feel how much he wanted her right now—in his mind as well as thickening between her legs at this very moment.

"Why not here?" she asked between breathy bites from his chin up the line of his jaw—taking advantage of what she knew were his weaknesses when he was already in a vulnerable state.

"To say that this is inappropriate would be an understatement," he inhaled and fisted the hand in her hair as she found that spot below his ear. "The King himself once sat in this very seat."

Laura sat back on his lap, rocking a little against his erection as she locked eyes with him. "It's a rite of passage, yeah?" she said, reaching up to take his hand from the back of her neck and guiding it up her shirt. "A few drinks and a good tumble in the back seat of a car."

He let his head fall back when his palm met her warm, velvety breast, and he lifted his hand to skim the very tips of his sensitive fingers around the curve of her soft skin. When she closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh, his hands grew a fraction more insistent, tightening and relaxing into the two handfuls of flesh as she continued her grinding assault, sending bolts of that delicious ache down to his toes.

"Somehow I doubt this rite of passage of yours included the royal vehicle," he said with a chuckle—and likely a somewhat dopey smile. The air was rapidly growing sultry with their shared panting breaths, frosting the windows with fog and saturating the air with that pine-kithairon essence that, due to operant conditioning, was already affecting him in a way that made his jaw clench against a wave of potent desire. The conflict plucking at his thoughts was beginning to grow hazier, resolving itself into ruminations on precisely how many times he could get her to cry out his name without getting anything on the seats.

Inappropriate though this was, he felt _good_ with the threads of her hair tickling the back of his arm, one handful of firm muscle, another of tantalizingly soft womanhood, and the scent of her thickening the air and making him throb against her inner thighs.

"You _do_ have the most superior physiology I've ever seen, woman," he said, giggling a little at his own joke. "But I had you an ungodly number of times just yesterday. Are you certain you're up for this?"

"Well, it was more like two days ago. Besides," she said, swiveling her hips against him with a puff of exhalation, "that was practically a different body."

He was beginning to run out of excuses. Of course, there was still the argument that youths of Insomnia were probably more likely to take public transportation than to own a vehicle for this sort of liaison, thus derailing her 'rite of passage' argument, but she would likely dismiss the idea as logical nonsense and continue accosting him in the King's vehicle anyway.

And by the gods, he was going to allow it.

* * *

After packing up far too early in the morning for everyone's liking, leaving Oathe, and taking on a rather difficult hunt of three 'old electra-kitties,' they arrived at Cape Caem that afternoon—the day before they departed.

"We're cutting this closer than I'd like," Laura muttered as she stepped out of the back seat.

"So where are we?" Prompto asked.

"Has the day shocked your system so terribly?" Ignis asked him with a smirk. "We're in Caem."

"I like it here," Noct said on a sigh. "Feels kinda like home."

"No, I mean, like . . . the other us," Prompto said, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

That was actually a good question. While Ignis was aware of their general itinerary that day, he didn't quite recall where their past selves were in that precise moment.

 _I have us covered on that, I think,_ Laura said, squinting up the hill as they walked. _This whole strange process has left me with just enough awareness of the original timeline as it's supposed to be._

Gladio snorted, looking over at him in disbelief and shaking his head. "Looks like your brain's fried too. How the hell is this place anything like the Crown City?"

"No, I mean, it feels homey. I dunno, never mind," Noct mumbled, turning his head away as they walked up the sandy path.

Ignis frowned over at the Prince. "There is something rather peaceful about the place," he agreed. "The salty air, the fresh seafood, and seeing the sea itself is quite invigorating."

"Yeah," Noct sighed again.

"Okay, Gladio, I think you've just left Talcott and Iris in Talcott's bedroom under the guise of checking on dinnertime," Laura said. "Prompto, you're still down by the boat with Cindy, Noct is upstairs, and Ignis and I are in the kitchen."

"We gonna run into trouble with that?" Gladio asked.

"We shouldn't. The amulet is supposed to erase awareness of our past selves. Things might get weird if you expect someone to interact with you and past you at the same time, so let's avoid that, shall we?"

Ignis didn't hear any sound coming from the kitchen as they entered the main room of the Caem house. He was sorely tempted to walk over to peer behind the island of cabinets, convinced that his Intuition, or perhaps his bond to a time-sensitive being, would provide him with some sort of extra-sensory ability to perceive his past self standing in the very same room. As it was, he couldn't detect even a hint of movement in the space between the hanging cabinets and the counter.

 _You wouldn't be able to. I myself can barely feel them,_ Laura said.

And catching sight of her tightened eyes, Ignis decided that it was probably for the best. That day had hardly been an exemplary example of their relationship—and merely a vanguard for his mistakes to come, apparently.

 _The past is behind us, Ignis,_ she reminded him as they strolled down the hall to Talcott's room. _Let it go._

 _Normally, it would be less of a problem if the past weren't literally right behind us . . . in the next room._

"Gladdy? What's gotten into you?" Iris asked as Gladio swooped into Talcott's room, scooped Iris off the edge of the bed, and squeezed her tightly as he planted a loud kiss on her cheek.

"Just good to be here. Hey, Talcott," Gladio crowed as set Iris down and rubbed the boy's hair. "Whatcha up to, little man?"

"Um, well, you were here for the cactuars," Talcott said, looking up at him in confusion. "I was just gonna show Iris the dagger Mr. Scientia gave me! Uncle Dustin promised he would show me how to use it."

"Very good," Ignis said with a nod. "You'll be well off indeed, receiving instruction from both Monica and Dustin. But tell us, would you mind if we took a look at your grandfather's diary for a moment?"

Talcott smiled up at him, his grey eyes lighting up at the prospect of being able to help, and Ignis's lips quirked in response to the boy's enthusiasm.

"Sure! Uncle Dustin was just using it for some research, so it's on the bookshelf just inside the front door. Help yourself."

"Thank you."

"You guys go check it out," Gladio said as he sat on the edge of Talcott's bed. "Gonna stay and chat a sec."

"All right, Ignis and I have to . . . get back to making dinner. Should be ready soon," Laura said, giving Iris a little wave before bending down to kiss Talcott on the cheek.

"I gotcha," Gladio said.

Heading back out to the dining room, Laura led the rest of them to the bookshelf by the front door. Distracted as he was by the prospect that he was walking in the very room that his past self was currently cooking in, he didn't notice when Rose had picked the book up from the bright red trunk sitting on the shelf, but he certainly discerned the change in her mind as she began reading.

He couldn't help that quick prick of jealousy as she flipped rapidly through the pages, allowing the text and images to wash over her much as she did in combat—only this time, her subconscious mind was storing the information for later perusal. Would that he could've spent the last two decades of his life learning so effortlessly, but there was no sense dwelling on the limitations of his species. Perhaps they could spend a few winter's nights in front of the fire at Therinal as he read through the diary himself.

When she'd reached the last page, he asked, _Well?_

 _He was a brilliant researcher, of course—like you._

"You guys are gonna have to be more subtle than that," Prompto interrupted. "We know exactly what you're doing now, you know."

"Says the creator of Operation Moon Base," Laura muttered, flipping back to the first page.

Prompto looked to the ceiling and closed his eyes. "Ohhhh gods, don't remind me!"

"So's it in there?" Noct asked.

Laura shook her head. "No. Ignis is going to have to put it in there. There was a curl of a letter in the bottom righthand corner of the photo from Jared's handwriting—could belong to a C, G, O, or Q, judging by the style of his letters. The way the drawing's on a margin like that leaves us with four possible pages."

"But which of the four is the correct page?" Ignis asked, tilting his head and leaning in so he could get a better look at the page she had opened the book to.

"It doesn't really matter. As long as the photo matches up . . .. And even if it didn't, the paradox would be small enough for the world to compensate as long as it still led us to the same place. The causal nexus would remain intact."

Walking over to the table, Laura set the book down and pointed to a spot on the open page, just above where the capital C in 'Cauthess' was written as the first word in a line.

"There," she said, summoning a pen and holding it out to him.

"But I don't know where Pitioss is any more than I did all those weeks ago," he argued as he took the pen from her.

"Of course you do," she said with a furrowed brow. "Didn't you send a copy of the photo to your email? You should have it right there on your phone."

"But I can't take the knowledge from myself in the past. The information would have no origin point."

But then again, what did he know? For all his recent experience in dealing with time and the consequences of knowledge, he was still an inexperienced child in the matter.

 _Apologies,_ he said. _I realize I'm not an expert in such matters, but it seemed to me that it would be some sort of temporal logical error._

Laura's lips parted in shock as she stared at him, her mind filling with an admiration he couldn't understand the source of.

 _I wonder what you would have become had you been the one born into my position,_ she said in awe. _My species may give me an advantage, but in terms of raw intelligence, you're so much smarter than I could ever be._

Before he could feel embarrassed, flattered, or proud of her compliment, she said, "It's a type of temporal logical error—a circular paradox in the causal nexus. We never truly learn where the ruins are—just keep getting the information from ourselves in the past. Fortunately, this classification of paradox isn't the world-ending kind, as the causal nexus isn't broken. It's the time loop itself that has the potential to be a paradox if we didn't complete it."

"Um, what?" Prompto asked, his face scrunching in confusion.

"Don't bother," Noct muttered. "Just smile and nod."

"I can make it easier to understand. You see, people assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually, from a nonlinear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey . . . stuff."

"Yeah, that clears that _right_ up," Prompto said after a moment of silence.

Understanding the concept and needing no further explanation, Ignis ran a gloved finger up the glowing red wood of the pen Laura had given him, admiring the golden metal swirls that vaguely reminded him of the flooring at Therinal.

 _This is exquisite craftsmanship,_ he said, unscrewing the cap to reveal the engraved mythril nib. _And it fits my hand perfectly._

 _Of course it does; it's yours. That shimmer in the ink—only one place to get that kind of ink, and that's in Palomia. Therinal gave me the wood, and, well . . . you already know how familiar I am with the shape of your lovely hands._

Ducking his head, he changed the subject by pointing to the corner of the page. "Here?"

 _Thank you for such an elegant gift, but you must cease showering me with all this extravagant largesse._

 _Stars, no. I enjoy spoiling you too much, as you do for me._

When she nodded, he pulled out his phone and began copying the image as exactly as he could, admiring the way the nib perfectly distributed the iridescent black ink onto the page without so much as a blot.

As he continued to work, Prompto said, "And Talcott isn't gonna remember us asking about the book when our past selves bring it up at dinner soon?"

Laura shook her head. "Not really. If he remembers it at all, he'll wonder whether or not it was a dream he was misremembering."

 _Time loop completed,_ she said when he'd finished his drawing and turned the book for her to inspect. _Excellent job._

Ignis let out a long, quiet breath, the previously unnoticed weight lifting off his shoulders at her words. This entire situation had been holding him down since he'd learned of it on the boat—first with the apprehension of being forced to travel in time yet again, then the responsibility of having to live through the prophecy of his own possible death in order to complete it, and finally the prospect of having to make the journey and draw the map after Rose's death. That they'd all made it through the trials they'd found in Altissia to accomplish this was an enormous relief, to say the least, one that allowed him to breathe freely for the first time in weeks.

 _Me too,_ Laura admitted. _The origin of that ink was really bothering me, but it's over now, and everything is okay._ With a deep sigh, she added aloud, "Well, our work here is done. Let's get Gladio and head out before everyone starts coming in here for dinner."

"Cool," Noct said as Prompto rushed to the hall to get Gladio. "Think we can make it to Verinas by tonight?"

"I believe I can find the drive within me to make it that far," Ignis replied. "But then I imagine the rest of the journey will need to be made on the back of a chocobo."

"If they can make it over that rocky terrain," Laura said. "With any luck, we'll get to Pitioss by tomorrow."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Timey-wimey stuff quote courtesy of Doctor Who, of course.


	64. Chapter 64

**Author's Note:**

Brief vomiting this chapter in the 2D part.

* * *

"Awww, man," Prompto complained, "why're all these places only open at night?"

Though Ignis could no longer see the small boulder that had passed beyond the cone of illumination his travel light provided, if he concentrated, he could hear the echo of his muffled footsteps in the dirt bouncing off the surface and returning to his ears.

Stepping confidently over the invisible rock, Ignis said, "Because it would seem that Solheim took a shine to the idea of using solar power to light its facilities, closing to collect the energy during the day in Costlemark and powering up all buildings at night."

Pitioss, as it turned out, was a primitive block of rough-hewn, mismatched stone of an architectural style Ignis had never seen, but upon arriving late that afternoon after a strenuous journey on chocobo-back, they were greeted with the all-too-familiar Solheimian circle switch and no way to get in. It hadn't involved too much deducing to assume that the ruins were meant to be entered at night after their experiences with Steyliff and Costlemark. A meal and a respite later, they found themselves traversing the dark, dusty path back to the ruins, their steps lighted only by their travel lamps and the glow of the moon bouncing eerily off the black dirt and cliff faces, transforming the scene into a dead and otherworldly planet.

"Just think, we still gotta get back to civilization after this," Gladio teased.

"Nooooo," Noct groaned. "I wish we had a ship—one of those Magitek Engines would be nice right about now."

"Yeah," Prompto said. "That runway makes it pretty clear we were supposed to get here in a ship. We're like, out in the middle of nowhere."

"Nothin' like nature in the middle of nowhere," Gladio said on a sigh as he raised his eyes to the sky. "It's nice bein' in the quiet again."

"But it's too quiet," Noct said.

Prompto stumbled, his toes either catching on one of the numerous rocks that littered the sandy path or, quite possibly, the tip of his own boot. "And too dark," he complained as he caught his balance, his arms flailing in overdramatic arcs. "Why's the sky gotta go so black at night? The stars are cool and all, but I kinda miss Insomnia's light sometimes."

It was true there was something about the way the lights from the city—any large city, apparently, not just one with a Wall—would reach for the sky, only to be reflected back down to the streets below in a purplish light rivaled by only the lights of the buildings themselves. Though Ignis certainly missed the culture, the amenities, and the ability to stay clean that went hand-in-hand with city life, he could honestly say the sky of Insomnia was not something he had for even a moment felt homesick for. He'd always felt trapped under that dome, even if he'd never given a name to that niggling disquiet until he left the city. It wasn't until that stifling blanket had been lifted from over his head that he'd finally acknowledged his dislike for that which he hadn't been able to change.

He hadn't realized at the time just how completely his soul had been freed that first night, with Rose gazing up at him in wonder as he'd first discovered the beauty that was night sky. But tonight, he could feel that wonder and joie de vivre effervescing in her chest as though it were his own.

"How can you not love this?" she asked incredulously, beaming up at the stars dangling over their heads. "Just look at the sky. It's not dark and black and without character. The black is, in fact deep blue."

Turning her head off to the left, she pointed and continued in a soft voice laced with adventurous euphoria, "And over there—lighter blue—and blowing through the blues and blackness, the winds swirling through the air and then shining, burning, bursting through—the stars! And you see how they roar their light."

Ignis smiled a little to himself as Rose repeated the words of the famous Earth painter. She seemed to do that far more often than the others realized, but the authenticity in her voice and the accompanying emotion had long ago proven to Ignis that she never quoted such fine beings without due reverence and remembrance. Listening to Vincent van Gogh's words as he gazed up at the sky, the ghost of the image _Starry Night_ overlaying the scene he was seeing in reality, he saw the world as the painter had for the briefest of moments—the aura of the subtlest of colors glowing bright against that blue velvet backdrop in swirling whorls that reminded him of the eddying currents of wind.

"Everywhere we look," her voice growing even softer with awe as Ignis did his best to read her no-doubt sparkling expression in the dim moonlight, "the complex magic of nature blazes before our eyes."

"Yeah," Noct said quietly as they reached the stairs to the dark square building looming above them. "It's pretty magical, all right."

"Dunno how you always got the energy to make everything so gods damn miraculous, Princess," Gladio said.

As they jogged up the last flight of worn steps, past the barred fence half-eaten away by rust and time, and between the high block walls, Ignis was able to make out the glow emanating from the gold plate from around the corner. The bright white aura radiating from the circular rune that Ignis had come to associate with Solheim lit up the stone courtyard, giving everyone's wide-eyed faces an eerie, ghostlike appearance as they approached.

 _You know,_ Laura said as they halted in front of the illuminated rune, _I can't read it, but these symbols and the ones on the havens have always appeared almost proto-Gallifreyan to me._

 _The language of the Time Lords? Do you think it's significant? And does that mean the runes at the havens are Solheimian in origin as well?_

 _Just an observation; I don't know if it means anything. From the looks of it, I'd say the havens and those locked doors we keep finding in the dungeons have Solheimian script all over them, even if they weren't necessarily written by Solheim. I thought you spoke Solheimian?_

 _I speak it, yes, but the graphemes used in my education were Lucian._

Laura gave a little snort before replying, _So you learned ancient Solheimian in a Lucian classroom with a combination of Japanese, Anglo-Saxon, and Latin characters while speaking English. Well, that's enough to do anyone's head in._

 _The formal and informal scripts of Lucian do tend to make everything that much more complicated, yes._

Noct stepped up to the marking and held out a hand just shy of touching the very center. "Well, here goes nothing."

The moment his fingers made contact, Ignis took a step to the side, widening his stance as the floor shuddered and groaned beneath them. The stale, ancient-tasting air rushed up to greet him, and he stretched out his senses as he felt Laura do the same. But he had to take a staggering step back at the vast nebula of golden power that washed over him, dwarfing even Laura's vibrant golden aura. He closed his sense immediately, overwhelmed by the sensation, and it was only then that he could turn his full attention to her mind, frozen in overstimulation by whatever she was capable of perceiving beyond his human abilities.

"What's the matter with you guys?" Noct asked as the floor jerked to a halt with a puff of dusty air that made Gladio sneeze.

"I'm fine," Ignis replied. "Nothing warranting royal attention." _Rose?_

When she didn't answer his or Noct's query, Ignis strode to the other side of the platform to where she was bent over, her head gripped between both hands. Crouching so he could see her expression, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder but withdrew immediately when she flinched at his touch.

 _Am I burning you? Is Eos?_

"Just . . . give me a second to get used to this," she managed through gritted teeth. _You aren't, and she isn't any more than she can help. Really, I'll be okay. I just need to adjust._

"Take your time," he replied aloud for the others' sakes. "I didn't feel any daemons nearby when I checked."

"Well that's something at least," Noct muttered.

"Yeah, maybe this'll be easy for once," Prompto said as he shifted from foot to foot, but as he spoke, he nervously eyed the silent blocks of flaming spikes gliding from the ceiling to the floor in perpetual motion.

It took Laura nearly five minutes of deep breathing before her thoughts seemed to unlock, and she straightened with a deep breath. "I'm all right—really. Just . . . this is gonna be one helluvan experience."

"Enough with the cryptic shit," Gladio said as Laura led them beneath the spiked blocks and up the ramp. "Whaddya mean by that?"

"Time and space are both warped here. I don't know how yet, but I have a feeling we'll be well familiar with that by the time we get out of here."

"Great!" Prompto said sarcastically. "Just what we need—another near-death experience!"

 _Time and space have been manipulated here?_ Ignis asked. _Is it possible that Solheim was a proto-Gallifreyan civilization?_

 _Time Lords were pan-dimensionally centric, meaning that they existed in one universe, but their planet Gallifrey was a bridge to all universes before they went all but extinct. If Solheimians had interdimensional technology, I'd say it's definitely possible that some escaped Ifrit's wrath to another universe and eventually started the Time Lord civilization._

Ignis hesitated as they came to a halt in a vast, dimly lit room, the logical progression of his thoughts filling him with apprehension and keeping him from truly taking in the scene in front of him. There was very little in all the universes that could shake his faith in Rose's devotion to him these days. They'd endured far too much together, after all—especially the events in Altissia. And while he didn't _believe_ she would leave him for this, the fact that there was an inkling of doubt in his mind was unsettling. Still, it was only fair to bring his observations up despite his reservations, as she'd always done the same for him.

 _Perhaps, if we found evidence of such technology,_ he said reluctantly, _you could use it to return to the Doctor._

Laura's instant, wordless denial immediately eased that coil of tension that had tightened in his belly. After checking to ensure that everyone else was too preoccupied with analyzing the room, she sidestepped toward him and took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

 _I'm all yours. Don't think what you're thinking for even a second._

"So, what're we s'posed to be lookin' at?" Noct asked.

Ignis had already analyzed the basics of the vast room subconsciously, but at Noct's query, he inspected his surroundings more closely, cross-referencing the statues and symbols with what he knew from the Cosmogony. Though Ignis had always held a healthy respect for the gods and had considered himself an acolyte of Shiva until all had been revealed of his experience with Rose, he'd only really studied the Six enough to engage in conversation should the topic arise. As such, he couldn't be certain of his initial conclusions to the point where he could present them as fact.

Knowing that Noct and the others would find his 'history thing' dull regardless, he decided instead to share his thoughts solely with Laura. _I do wish I had taken that painting in the throne room more literally,_ he said in frustration. _I would have studied religion far more extensively than I have. This appears to be a puzzle room of sorts instead of a test of combat as it normally is, as I didn't detect any sign of scourge when I checked. Am I correct?_

 _Yes, you are. I don't feel any scourge here at all, but I'd certainly like to get samples of that inky, black waterfall over there. A representation of the scourge? Something that became the scourge? This may be some sort of story explaining the history of the gods. Perhaps the 'shame of the Six' is that they were the source of the Starscourge._

 _All right, then let us begin—the golden power of Eos, the Solheimian symbol for immortality on the door over there, as we've always seen . . .._

 _Ifrit in a cage?_ she asked, nodding to the massive, horned statue crouched behind a room of the same ebony and gold bars that often blocked their path in places like Steyliff and Costlemark.

 _Yes, I've seen depictions of Ifrit as such. And this fellow barring our way forward is likely his jailer,_ he said, nodding to the giant statue holding a hand against the doorframe. _As he doesn't resemble the Draconian in any fashion I'm familiar with, I'd hazard a guess to say that he is the Archaean._

 _So, the Archaean is holding Ifrit prisoner. Why?_

 _And why are those insects flying in formation? What do they represent?_ he asked.

Laura squinted into the dim at the bioluminescent creatures fluttering eerily in the spotlight shining on Titan. _Dragonflies,_ she said. _They look a little like DNA flying in a perfect line like that. The building blocks of life?_

Ignis's pulse jumped in his throat as his excitement peaked at the implications of their analysis, and Laura's thrill of discovery was doing little to calm him as they both opened their minds more completely so that they could more quickly share their thoughts, images, and conclusions.

 _So would this place represent the source of all life? Light and dark,_ he said, nodding at the glowing purple-and-blue dragonflies as well as the black void of the waterfall, _then this place would be_ _the Great Beyond._

 _Blue, purple, and black—the colors of the Crystal, the colors of the aura in the Crystal space. You may be right. This may represent the womb of Eos—home to the Six and the source of all life._

 _So how do we proceed? I imagine it has something to do with—_

"Come on, you two, seriously," Gladio interrupted, rolling his eyes.

Ignis blinked, pulled suddenly out of his train of thought and back to reality to find the other three staring at the two of them.

"Apologies," Ignis said with a nod, but he raised his chin and crossed his arms in defense. "It's just that you all have a tendency to express your displeasure at our 'nerding out,' as you call it."

"So . . . it's like a puzzle, right?" Prompto asked as his eyes darted around the room. "We gotta figure out a way to let that guy outta the cage so we can hit that switch. Bet it opens the door."

Ignis shot him a quizzical look. "And how the bloody hell did you work that out?"

Prompto shrugged and smiled sheepishly, saying, "I dunno. It's kinda like a video game, isn't it?"

"Even I had that much figured out, Specs," Noct laughed. "Bet it has something to do with those huge cannonballs and those switches. What've you two been doing this whole time? Analyzing the architecture?"

"As a matter of fact, . . ." Ignis grumbled under his breath, but he continued in a louder voice, "It's no matter. We'll let you know if it becomes relevant. Let us search for a way to free our Infernian friend."

It took nearly an hour of exploring the room, taking detailed pictures, and collecting samples from the dark waterfall before they decided that the secrets to releasing the prisoner must have lain in the dark corridor behind the sliding block wall in the far corner. It didn't take long for the five of them to realize that though there were no daemons or wild creatures to tear them to shreds as they'd so often encountered in these dark, stony ruins, this place was not without its perils. Grateful for his years of experience in gymnastics and yoga, Ignis stuck close to Noct, ready to catch him each time he teetered perilously close to one of the precipitous drops—too deep for their meagre travel lights to pierce through the darkness to the bottom. He could tell that Noct was growing increasingly irritated with his hovering by the muttering and sighing, but fortunately, the Prince was wise enough not to warp away from him, as he would most certainly fall off the edge the first time he tried it.

"If Solheim did build this place," Laura said as they gingerly made their way up a ramp, searching carefully for chasms set into the floor, "it doesn't seem like they finished it. Rusty bits, chrome bits, metal scraps, building stones . . . the place is a mess."

"Yeah," Gladio grumbled, "And His Highness the Hoarder has to pick _everything_ up and keep it. You workin' on buildin' a house or somethin' we don't know about? That shit's useless."

"I . . . dunno. It's like, a compulsion, or something. I can't help it."

"It's quite all right," Ignis said. "There's room in the armiger, and we can always sell them if we find no use for them."

 _Look at the wall, Ignis,_ Laura said as they entered a room with five immortality doors they either couldn't reach or couldn't open. _Over the Solheimian switch._

 _The walls are leaking scourge?_ he asked in disbelief, reaching out with his senses, but he still couldn't detect even a whiff of that dark, pulsating evil he'd perceived in their previous descents into other pits of hell.

 _Still a representation, but yes._

"Hey, you guys?" Noct said hesitantly as he stared at a pillar set into the middle of the black abyss. "I think we gotta go that way."

"Ohhhhh, man," Prompto groaned. "Do we have to? We're so gonna die!"

"If it's the only way forward," Gladio said with a shrug. Taking a deep breath, he leapt across the bottomless chasm and onto the pillar with the smallest of hops to gain control of his momentum. "Guess the way forward's pretty obvious," he said, pointing to the glowing white switch. With a massive grunt of effort, he leapt for it, the edges of his feet just barely catching the landing. The switch turned dark as his feet touched the gold, and before they could ask any questions about what lay ahead, he leapt again.

"There's a walkway here," came his deep voice, repeating over and over in long, slow echoes as it bounced off the stone walls and down to the bottom of the chasm—gods only knew how far.

"It seems that this is our way forward. You next, Higheness," Ignis said, gesturing with a hand.

Ignis himself had no trouble traversing the jumps when his turn came, experienced in various arts of dexterity as he was. His long legs were quite the asset in this place, as well, but then, Laura tended to point out often that his legs were _always_ an asset—whether in the line of duty or otherwise.

"I guess . . . me next," Prompto said tremulously.

"Try not to think about what's below, Prom," Laura said gently. "Just concentrate on the block."

"Yeah," he chuckled, turning toward the pillar. "Simple as that."

Ignis could see through Laura's eyes Prompto's shaking hands and clenched jaw as he took a deep breath, and though Ignis was a little irritated that this was taking so long, he had to admit he was somewhat impressed with the way Prompto sprung forward bravely despite his acrophobia. But they all knew the moment he jumped off the edge of the walkway that he wouldn't make it, and several things happened at once.

Noct took a step forward, summoning his blade as though preparing to warp out to the pillar, but Ignis immediately clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed tightly.

"No!" Gladio and Noct shouted.

He had just enough time to pick up the thread of Laura's thoughts as Prompto let loose a long, loud, bloodcurdling scream of terror that made Ignis's blood run cold, but he didn't have enough time to tell her that the idea was folly before she disappeared in a haze of blue.

 _Rose, no!_ he managed to shout—too late.

She reappeared roughly six feet above the pillar, performing a graceful flip midair to face the walkway she'd left and letting gravity pull her down belly-first onto the hard, unforgiving stone with a grunt.

"Prom!" she screamed. Her mind was a storm of panic as she stretched out, grasping Prompto's hand with both hers and digging her claws into his flesh in an effort to slow his momentum. Ignis could feel the skin pushing itself up under her nails as his hand slipped through her grasp, her desperate panic as she reached out again to find only empty air and another retreating scream from Prompto. "No!"

Ignis wrapped his arm tightly around Noct, frozen and unfeeling in shock and horror at what had just happened. While it was true that he wasn't quite as close with the young gunman as he was with the others, he had always appreciated his sunny demeanor in the face of peril and darkness. When their journey had taken a turn from a carefree roadtrip to a nightmarish war of five against an entire empire, Ignis had had his doubts about Prompto's abilities to keep the Prince safe—the last thing they'd needed was another charge to watch over. But Prompto had persevered, had always worked hard to be of use, and that was a trait Ignis had always admired most in a person.

Prompto's final echoes had faded from the walls, and Ignis closed his eyes in mourning for their lost friend and comrade, squeezing Noct's shoulder in comfort as the Prince took several hitching breaths.

"Fuck," he heard Gladio mutter from Noct's other side.

 _Laura Scientia,_ Ignis said sharply, opening his eyes when he felt the wheels in her head turning in an effort to find _some_ way to follow him down, to save him. _Don't. You. Dare._

She was still collapsed over the pillar, her arms and legs hanging off the edge and dangling over the abyss. _I know,_ she said shakily. _I just . . . I failed him. He was too far away for me to . . . I couldn't even hold his mind as he . . .._

 **BOOM.**

The cacophony returned as though it had never ceased—Prompto's hoarse and panicked death wail assaulting Ignis's sensitive hearing and bouncing off the walls once again as though he'd never died, and it was music to Ignis's ears.

"PROMPTO," Gladio shouted in the direction the voice was coming from, but a massive wall blocked their view from most of the room.

 _Can you see him?_ he asked Laura, but she hadn't moved since the thunderous crash had sounded. _Are you hurt? What's wrong?_

 _Dizzy,_ she gasped. _Too much temporal stimulation—being in the past, warping, this place, and now Prompto. Hold on._

Growing impatient for some sort of answer as to Prompto's condition, Ignis cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Prompto, for gods' sakes, if you're all right, kindly cease screeching and let us know!"

The ululation was cut off abruptly, plunging the room into oppressive silence once again, and Noct looked up at him with wet, terrified eyes.

"Do you think he's okay?" Noct asked in a small voice before yelling out, "Prompto!"

 _He's alive_ , Laura said as she did her best to get to her feet without falling. _Time for him has . . . reset._

"I have an inkling he will be, yes," Ignis replied.

"I—I—I'm," Ignis heard Prompto stutter back, and he allowed himself to sag a little as he let out a deep breath.

Gladio turned to quickly inspect the dark hallway behind them, no doubt eyeing the dim glow of the fiery spiked ceiling, before coming back to stand next to them. "Seems this goes back to the first room, maybe behind the cage."

"I'll get Prompto and meet you back there," Laura groaned before hopping lightly back to the walkway. "Go on."

 _Be careful,_ her voice echoed in his thoughts at the exact same moment he sent her the same message. As he gently pushed at the reluctant, trembling Prince's shoulder to get him moving along the path, Ignis added, _Send word about Prompto the moment you reach him. Noct appears beside himself._

"N—no," Noct protested, his voice growing hoarse with panic as he stumbled forward. "What about Prompto?"

 _I've got him. He's frozen in terror, but he's all right. We're going to need a minute before we can head back._

"Laura says that he's unharmed. Come now, the sooner we get back, the sooner you can see for yourself that he's all right."

The short, narrow hallway leading to the top of Ifrit's cage was simple to navigate, and they had just pressed the switch to raise the prison when they heard Prompto's "I think that worked!"

Raised to a new level of the building, they could no longer see the main room, but that didn't stop Noct from pressing his face against the rusty barred walls of the room they'd found themselves in to yell down, "Prompto! You okay?"

"Yeah," Ignis heard him chuckle weakly from below. "Looks like I'll live."

 _You activated a cannonball down here when you hit that switch,_ Laura said as they rushed down the path that appeared to be leading them back down to the first room. _Dare I say . . . a meteor? It rolled into Ifrit's prison, simulating that it broke him free._

 _So you believe we're re-enacting some sort of story, a play, of sorts,_ he surmised. _Perhaps the war of the Astrals, given the meteor? Then who is doing the telling?_

 _I imagine we'll find out when we know who the hero of this tale is. We already know by the name of the place and Gentiana's words that this has to do with Eos._

After sliding down a wall that brought them back to the floor of the main room where they'd started, the three of them reunited with Laura and Prompto with shoulder pats, expressions of relief, and brave faces. Though Ignis himself was relieved to see their friend alive, he stood back with Laura and Gladio to expedite the reunion. Allayed as their grief was, they needed to proceed as quickly as possible if they were to leave this place.

"Does this mean when we die, time gets reset for us?" Gladio asked in a low voice, leaning down closer to Laura.

"It appears that way, thank the stars. Even the claw marks on his arm are gone," she replied.

"That's something, at least, as it vastly increases our chances of getting out of here alive," Ignis added.

The next step forward was easy enough to guess; as Noct and Prompto rehashed all that had happened, Gladio folded his fingers together in front of what Ignis now thought of as the meteor, allowing Laura to step up into his hand so he could hoist her up on top of the sphere. Leaping across the gap to the wall, she hit the glowing switch. Several deafening cracks and crashes of masonry sent them all scurrying to the other side of the prison wall, eager to see what magic they had unleashed.

"What the hell's going on here?" Noct said.

"Titan was hit by a meteor," Laura replied as their travel lights fell on the now headless statue of Titan and the chained metal ball still swinging just above his neck. Ignis held a hand over his nose to avoid breathing in the rock dust floating on the air as she continued, "Leaving Ifrit free to break into the next room."

 _Titan has fallen under a meteor,_ Ignis mused. _Is this representative of him catching the meteor that fell on the Disc of Cauthess while at the same time freeing Ifrit from his jailer?_

 _Possibly, since we suspect that Titan helped Solheim to create the Disc. Maybe he was protecting it._

Ignis reviewed what he had learned the night Rose had showed him all she had learned from their trial with Titan but hadn't yet analyzed—those long, physics-defying arches that spanned far too much of the Duscaean region to be naturally formed and happened to mark out perfectly the sun's progress across the sky; the out-of-place mythril wave, so reminiscent of a feathery wing and so well-suited to acting as the gnomon of a sundial; the fact that the Disc's location was so central to the continent . . .. It made perfect sense that a civilization that had named itself after the sun and the planet after their goddess had solicited one of Eos's children to assist them in building a giant sundial in the middle of their kingdom in reverence before they turned dark. Damaged as it was now, however, there was no way to tell for certain if their theory was correct.

"What? So this is Titan and Ifrit, and these are meteors?" Gladio asked. "Yeah, I guess I see it now."

"And we got just one more," Prompto said, pointing to the large ball that was lined up to hit the door.

It wasn't until Noct warped up to hit the switch above Titan's arm, releasing the meteor that broke down the door in the middle of the room, that Laura stopped on the stairs, bending over to inspect the stone closely.

 _What is it?_ he asked, coming up beside her to see what had caught her attention.

 _Whatever that black stuff is we see seeping from the walls and falling from the ceiling—I think the meteor was tainted with it._

Ignis didn't need to lean in close to see the streaks of black painting the steps just below where the meteor had been stored, but he did anyway, if only to discern whether or not the black substance matched that which they'd taken a sample of.

 _It does,_ she replied. _If it didn't have the potential to be infectious, I'd taste it, and we'd know for certain._

 _You're mad for even thinking of such nonsense,_ he said, shooting her a glare. He grabbed her hand, helping her to her feet, before the two of them followed behind Prompto, Gladio, and Noct into the next room.

 _Chemical composition analysis is something that comes in handy sometimes. Just be glad I don't run around licking walls like the Doctor did,_ she said with her mischievous tongue-touched smile, but then she grew serious. _I do think this place is supposed to represent the home of the gods, with the oil representing the darkness within each of us, the DNA-flies as life and light._

 _So if these meteors are tainted, and they landed on Eos during the War of the Astrals, does that mean they are the source of the scourge?_

 _I don't think so—perhaps just a single element that was included in the scourge. The statues aren't depicted as being infected, and remember that plasmodium was somehow involved—a single-celled organism, not oily black stuff. But it's possible Titan caught the meteor in a failed effort to keep that black stuff off the planet, not just to protect the sundial._

"Hot damn, you know, I may not be telepathic, or whatever," Gladio said, turning back to look at them as they walked over the threshold, "but I can hear the wheels turning between you two. You wanna share with the class?"

"Yeah, I'm not normally into the history thing, really, but anything to take my mind off this place," Noct said.

Prompto nodded vigorously, hopping back and forth on his feet as he said, "Yeah, this place is worse than a boss-level dungeon!"

"It's Ifrit standing over the planet," Ignis said, nodding to the horned statue, identical to that of the one in the cage. He was crouched in an identical position in front of a gargantuan yellow sphere, the entrance through which Ignis could just make out the dim glow of a spinning roller of lava spikes. "I believe Ifrit threw those meteors to Eos to free himself, and this room, with its depiction of the planet Eos, is where they ended up when they shot through his realm—which would perhaps explain the meteors at the Disc of Cauthess and Lestallum."

"And perhaps whatever black stuff they were tainted with would explain why they're still burning after all those years," Laura agreed. "You shouldn't be able to power cities off burning meteor shards. That hole through the planet though . . . is that supposed to represent the damage we did with the meteor? Was Ifrit using meteors to reach something beneath the planet?"

"Hey guys?" Gladio said as he leaned over the walkway, staring into the abyss. His eyes darted up to Ifrit before turning back below. "He's staring at this chick wayyyyyy down there. Might be Eos?"

"Looks like it," Laura said as she leaned over the side next to him.

Ignis stepped up to the edge of the walkway next to Laura, craning his neck and squinting into the dark in an attempt to get a better view of the details on the lit-up statue far below them. _So if that first room is supposed to be the womb of Eos that we escaped from, how did we end up so far above her?_

 _Time and space are fluid concepts, love,_ she said gently. _This place is the perfect example of that. But this is probably who Ifrit is punching holes in the planet to reach. I wonder if she was imprisoned beneath the Disc of Cauthess._

 _This may be what their shame was,_ he said, nodding down at the woman. _They imprisoned her for her crime. Perhaps her punishment didn't fit it. Perhaps Ifrit was imprisoned because he disagreed with what was done to her._

"I bet that's our destination then, Noct said.

"Yeah, let's get going so we can get outta here," Prompto said.

As they continued onward in their perilous trek, the symbolism behind their every action in the bizarre, dark rooms didn't let up. A switch that activated and set the world to spinning on its axis was Ifrit's revenge against Solheim—likely for using that machine in the basement of Costlemark to channel Eos's powers in an attempt to gain immortality. A red statue of Ifrit represented his anger at what was being done to Eos—by both Solheim and the other Five imprisoning him. Rooms filled with ledges and moving spikes of lava represented a harrowing journey, perhaps to hell, given the imagery. A great, roaring, rolling barge with an enormous skull as its figurehead was kicking up walls of 'lava' with its rotating waves of heated spikes as it glided back and forth across the room—Charon the mythical Greek ferryman taking them across the river of death to the Underworld, according to Rose.

And their deaths—they only grew marginally easier to bear, even with the absolute certainty that no death in this hellish place was permanent. Prompto had died enough times to almost grow used to the process, if not the pain of the actual experience, but even his steadfast cheery demeanor, façade though it obviously was, was beginning to wear thin. Gladio and Noct died far less often due to their extensive training, but that didn't stop Ignis's heart from catching in his throat each time the light left his charge's eyes or his body disappeared completely.

Neither he nor Rose had endured the experience of a reset, but it was only a matter of time before Ignis's human reflexes failed him as he grew wearier. The rooms seemed to buzz with the activity of the rolling apparatuses decorated in magically heated spikes, as though left in the fires of a forge, turning them hot, molten, and pliable. The heat pouring off them in wavy mirages was making him sweat—the salty water dripping down his face and soaking his shirt until he was forced to take his jacket off just so he could breathe.

"You kidding me?" Gladio asked incredulously when they'd stopped to take a break and began discussing the Underworld imagery. "I'm trying not to die down here. You expect me to interpret shit while I'm clinging to a rock the size of one of my feet as I spin around over a huge pit?"

"No, that's why I'm doing it for you," Laura said calmly. "A lot of this has to do with history and mythology from another planet, so it would hardly be fair to expect you to know these things. Pretty sure the Six either aren't from this planet or definitely visited Earth at some point."

 _How are you holding up?_ she added, looking down at him in concern as he slid down the metal wall and stretched his legs out in front of him with a small groan in the back of his throat.

 _I'm fine,_ he replied.

"For a girl who didn't graduate Earth school, you sure seem to know a lot about its history and myths," Gladio said collapsing onto his stone ledge and letting his feet dangle over the side.

Laura waited to reply as the barge approached their position, summoning several bottles of water for the group and a bottle of Ignis's preferred coffee while the thunderous grind of the enormous metal contraption on its tracks receded.

 _Thank you, love,_ he said, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. Though he was still covered in sweat, Ignis found he was grateful for the beverage's warmth, as their lofty position high above the rolling machine meant their resting place was quite drafty. Shivering against the chill, he let the hot liquid pool over his tongue, filling his palate with the aroma of cocoa and what he now associated with sweet, tart, floral Ulwaat berry.

"I've been back to Earth several times, just in universes too far away from my home one to be considered parallel. I've got university degrees in so many things—many you've probably never even heard of. Collecting weird ones was a hobby of mine for a while."

Ignis had firsthand experience with Rose's education, as it was usually the source of their nightly adventures. Still, she'd learned so _much_ in her seven millennia of life that he suspected her answer would still surprise him, so he asked, "Really? Like what?"

"Oh, you know," she trailed off, waving a vague hand in the air, "auctioneering, xenolinguistics, hairdressing on Platina V, lunar agriculture, fermentation sciences, telepathy, temporal engineering; you can actually get a doctorate degree on Mars in underwater basket weaving, believe it or not. Medicine, science, engineering, candy floss, Lego, philosophy, music, problems, people, hope." She paused for a moment, taking a quick breath before turning her blue eyes, alight in the indirect shine of their travel lights, toward them. "Mostly hope," she finished.

"Well I'm not feeling much hope here," Noct sighed. "This is impossible."

"Things are only impossible until they're not. Now come on! Let's get far enough away from this racket so we can eat and get some rest."

Ignis pulled away from the wall that was serving as his backrest and muttered under his breath, "A respite over a two-thousand-foot drop—what a restful rest that'll be."

"It wouldn't be so impossible if you stopped taking an extra three steps every time you land, Noct . . . and that roll you do sometimes ain't doin' you any favors, either," Gladio pointed out as he got to his feet.

"It's not like I can just stick a landing after jumping that far," Noct complained. "I dunno how you guys do it."

"I told you for years that gymnastics or yoga would improve your balance," Ignis couldn't help but point out.

"Like I didn't have enough to do," he grumbled in response.

After exiting the ferry room and getting caught together in an empty wedge of a spinning stone wheel, they all halted to check themselves over for damage from the four sets of flying feet and rolling bodies they'd just endured. Ignis had had quite enough with this place and its whimsical torture chambers, but the trepidation, interest, and even a stirring of excitement he could feel growing in Rose's mind indicated that their trials had only begun. Whatever was making her experience this exuberant fascination couldn't be good for any of them, surely.

 _What is it now?_ he asked with dread.

 _This is going to be interesting,_ she said, lifting his elbow up to brush off a smudge of dust. _All those disturbances in time and space . . . I think we know the source of the twists in time; now we're about to experience the space._

As Noct took a step to start forward again, she caught his shoulder. "Hold up. This next part's going to be difficult for you guys."

"Cause it's been a cakewalk up till now," Gladio muttered.

"Just . . . let me go first. I need you to forget about concepts of up or down. Turn your mind off completely and just follow me."

 _This shouldn't be too difficult for you,_ she added privately. _It's just like fighting. Keep that Intuition on and the analytical part of your mind off._

Without another word, she turned and trotted off, the black room seeming to swallow the image of her retreating back whole.

"We gotta get her a travel light just so we can see her when she does shit like that," Gladio mumbled as they scrambled after her.

"Time after time, I skip to the edge of the abyss then dance away again," she said in a singsong voice, the ghostly sound echoing off the corridor in the dark.

When their travel lights fell on the gleaming white teeth of her mischievous smile and her glittering eyes, she was seated on the platform that served as the entrance to the room, a knee bent as she nimbly undid the buckles of her boots.

"What're you doing?" Noct asked as though she'd lost her mind, and though Ignis could see the train of her thoughts, he had to admit her actions did appear rather demented to those not in the know.

"Gonna need m'bare feet for this!" she said with a laugh.

"Should we um . . . take our shoes off too?" Prompto asked hesitantly. "Cause I kinda don't wanna do that."

Knowing the answer already, Ignis examined the new devilry of the room that was visible in their beams—not nearly enough—the ever-present chasm that seemed to constantly welcome them into death's awaiting embrace and a twisting column suspended in midair, creating a path for them to walk.

"Nah, 'M the one that needs to feel the gravimetric currents. You jus' gotta turn those minds off, yeah?"

 _You're entirely too gleeful over the prospect of traversing this hellhole,_ Ignis told her, pointing out her accent shift.

"Turn our minds off?" Prompto asked as he stepped onto the column. "Everything looks normal. Why do we gotta turn our minds off?"

 _Been awhile since I walked in space! This is gonna be like walkin' in an M.C. Escher paintin'._

"Shouldn't be too hard for you to do," Gladio said.

"Think this place 'ad two architects," Laura said, looking around the room, and seeing through her eyes, Ignis had to agree.

"The evidence of Solheimian architecture has all but disappeared—the intricate columns, the switches. This room is raw and wild with god magic," he said in a low voice.

Laura pulled off her second boot and dismissed it to the armiger before reaching for her sock. "M' thinkin' it was Ifrit who added the statues n' things after 'e died in Ravatogh to tell 'is story. Sol'eim must've used it before then. No guarantee tha' god magic wasn't Sol'eim's though!"

"What did they use this place for though?" Gladio asked, but she merely shrugged and jumped to her bare feet.

"Allons-y!" she laughed merrily. "No dyin' on me now, you 'ear? This part's s'posed to be fun!"

"Do . . . you know what she's talking about?" Prompto asked Ignis as he hesitantly stepped onto the path behind her.

Ignis followed behind Prompto, ensuring that Noct went next so he'd be positioned between him and Gladio. "A vague notion, but not enough to be of help, I'm afraid," he replied as he tried to make sense of the currents of what he assumed to be gravity in her mind.

"It's 'ard to explain," she said. "You'll find out in just a second 'ere."

"You mean at that dead end up ahead?" Prompto asked, pointing to where their path twisted sharply up at a ninety-degree angle, transforming their walkway into a wall.

"Yep! Watch _this,_ " she said gleefully as she stepped up onto the wall as though her feet were coated in superglue. She took a few steps forward before turning to look back down at them. "Come on, then!"

"I—" Prompto began.

"I'm too tired to be surprised by anything anymore," Noct said, heaving a weary sigh.

"Fuck this shit, that's all I gotta say," Gladio said.

Ignis squinted at what he believed to be the wall. If he concentrated enough, let go of everything he believed about the ground and sky, he could disregard the door they'd entered as the basis of gravity, the object that determined what was up, down, left, or right for them. From Laura's perspective, they were just as stuck to a wall as she was from theirs; she was the one standing on the ground. All he needed to do to reorient himself to the next 'floor' was to step down onto it.

 _By the light of all the stars, I take it back. Don't turn that beautiful analytical mind off. You're absolutely correct._

"Go ahead and step down, Prompto," Ignis encouraged, nudging him forward.

"Um . . . don't you mean up?" he asked, his neck craning to catch sight of Laura looming above him.

"The enemy gate is down," Laura replied with a smirk before turning serious and empathetic. "Try not to worry about whether it's up or down and just step."

Once the four of them had made it to the new floor and finished expressing their disbelief and amazement, they followed after her swift, skipping gait—jumping over vast chasms, balancing on barred floors and walls and ceilings, traversing hallways that twisted and contorted into tortured shapes, and teetering on suspended puzzle pieces that meandered off into the void. Holes in the floor became doors in the wall, edges that dropped off into the abyss became narrow walkways, and tilted slides became no more than even flooring—as smooth as the stone courtyard outside his quarters when he lived at the Citadel.

Ignis felt as though he were a child following after the Pied Piper into this black, refracted dream world where space, and even time, had no meaning down here in the dark. The only question was, where exactly was she leading them? Beyond the statue of the woman they had spotted at the very bottom, not even Rose knew what lay ahead for them.

 _If you like, I've got a piccolo or a pan flute I could try to pick a tune out on. It would add some atmosphere and support your whole 'Pied Piper' theory._

 _That's hardly necessary,_ he replied dryly. _Though I'm thrilled to see you, at least, having fun with this._

"Man, the worst ones are when she walks on the parts that should send her tumbling to her death," Prompto complained. "This is too . . . trippy."

"Yeah. How in the name of Bahamut's blue balls do you know which is the floor, Princess?" Gladio called out from behind him as she sidestepped up onto the wall—no, the floor to the left.

"They're all the floor," she laughed, spinning around briefly to grin at them before turning back to dance up to the ceiling—no, _still_ the floor for her, merely the ceiling to them. "The formula for the planet's gravitational constant has been neutralized with a competing equation, then reapplied to the stonework here."

"Just smile and nod," Noct sighed.

But the game changed quite suddenly when she skidded to a halt at the end of a tilted corridor. The walkway was wide enough for the four of them to line up side by side here, wide enough for them all to see what had Laura frowning in concern so suddenly—another rolling wheel of stone with a slice cut out. Ignis didn't understand what was troubling her so—they'd managed one of these before with no issue—until she gently guided his mind into hers and stretched her senses out to the area below, for their next destination _was_ , in fact, below them and not suddenly a wall.

"This next part is going to be difficult for you all to bear, I think, but after this, the worst should be over, and we'll be able to take a break," she said quietly.

"You gonna put your boots back on?" Prompto asked.

Flat—it was the only word he could use to describe what she was sensing. The space below them was pressed and rolled out as though by a steamroller, and though he didn't know what that meant in the terms of the real world, her reaction was hardly doing much to encourage Ignis to find much enthusiasm for pressing forward.

"No. I think it's best I leave them off for this part too. I need you not to panic when we jump down there," she continued. "But prepare yourselves . . . we're going to be . . . two-dimensional the second we jump into this hole."

"And just how the fuck does someone prepare themselves for that?" Gladio scoffed.

"Dude. No. Just—no," Prompto muttered, shaking his head and taking a step back.

Ignis huffed an exasperated sigh. "We have a choice—either go forward or sit here until we die. It's not as though we're physically capable of turning back now. We're trapped here."

"Unfortunately, Ig's right," Gladio agreed. "This is gonna be some twisted shit, but we don't really got a choice."

"No turning back," Noct agreed with a sigh, looking down blankly at the spinning wheel.

"All right. I'll go first so I know what's down there," Laura said, crouching close to the stone and silently counting out the seconds she had left until the missing wedge appeared. "Prom, babe, you come right after me. The rest of you work out whatever order is best."

 _Have you ever been two-dimensional before?_ he asked just as she leapt into the wedge and disappeared from sight.

 _No, but the Doctor has . . . was sucked into a drawing by the Isolus once. I have his memory of the experience. Aaaand . . . seems it was on point. Go ahead and send Prompto down here._

Ignis took a moment to view the world through her eyes in an attempt to prepare himself, perhaps even to prepare Prompto, for the experience to come, but all he could make out was an absolute mess of what appeared to be a child's drawing of randomly-drawn, grey straight lines. One of the lines appeared to be blinking in and out of existence—disappearing for a moment from her view before returning again.

 _It's the wheel I just came down on,_ she explained as Ignis gestured Prompto forward with a hand.

"Well," Prompto chuckled, "Guess now I get to know what it feels like to be in a photo, right? After all this time."

"Just keep your wits about you and everything will be fine," Ignis replied.

"Yeah," he said, giving Gladio and Noct a final, wide-eyed glance. "Here goes nothin'."

The screaming started the moment Prompto jumped into the wedge and they lost sight of him in the narrow gap in the floor.

"SHIT! WHERE'D MY BODY GO? I LITERALLY DON'T HAVE A BODY!"

"Prompto," Ignis could barely hear Laura's voice call out below the grinding wheel, "You're all right. You're standing on a platform now; just jump down to me."

"HOW CAN I DO THAT IF MY LEGS ARE GONE? I'M JUST A LINE!"

"Wow," Noct whispered.

"Yeah, got a feeling this is gonna be one of the weirdest things we've done," Gladio said as he stared down at the gap.

 _All right, I've got him. Next person._

"I suppose we should continue on as we have been? I'll go next, then Noct, then Gladio?" Ignis asked, nodding to each of them.

"Yeah, whatever," Noct said.

Without another word, Ignis turned back, waited for the wedge to appear, took a quick breath, and jumped.

Calm. He _must_ remain calm. There was nothing the matter with his body—he only had to keep reminding himself that. Prompto's self-assessment was indeed correct—as the straight black and purple line that now represented his body fell out of the line that was now the wheel and onto another grey line that ended abruptly in front of him.

 _Are you all right?_ Laura asked. _I need you to jump down so Noct won't land on you._

 _How exactly do I move in this place?_ he asked. _It appears as though I no longer have legs._

"Your body still exists in its three-dimensional form," she said aloud, likely so the others could hear her back in their three-dimensional world. But her voice sounded odd, deep and flat to his ears in a way he couldn't accurately put a name to. "You've only lost the ability to perceive it. Just use your muscle memory to walk."

Remembering what it felt like to move his legs, to even have legs, he stepped off the line and fell; apparently, gravity still existed on this plane in some form. As he landed on yet another line, he imagined bending his knees to cushion the weight of his fall before looking up to where he expected to find Laura.

"H—h—hey, Iggy," he heard Prompto's voice stammer.

What Ignis assumed to be Prompto's body was now a straight line—black and tan and blonde—rising up at a ninety-degree angle from the grey line of the floor. He seemed to be flashing in and out of existence for some reason Ignis couldn't fathom.

 _He's shifting back and forth on his feet,_ Laura said. _That's just how you perceive it._

 _Where are you?_

 _In front of him, but you can't see around him to see me._

 _It's as though we've become drawings on a sheet of paper,_ he said, fighting to breathe against the nausea rising in what used to be his throat—in what he supposed technically still was his throat . . . somewhere, on another plane of existence.

 _A cross-section of you is existing on an upright piece of paper. You have up, down, forward, backward, but there is no right or left._

Ignis remembered the concept of 'left,' of course, as he had only just a minute ago spent a lifetime in his three-dimensional body. In turning what he believed to be his head in that direction, exposing the cross-section of his face to this new existence, he was met with an alarming lack of anything at all—no black, no light, no wall—a complete lack of anything that he'd believed his consciousness incapable of perceiving until that very moment. 'Left' and 'right' were _gone_ —erased from existence.

And it was terrifying.

 _Ignis? Come back to me, love. Look forward. Only ever look forward._

"What the _hell_?!" Noct yelled from above, but Ignis wasn't feeling quite well enough to chance facing the non-existence long enough to turn completely around to look at him. A thud sounded behind him before Noct asked in a trembling voice, "Iggy? Is that you?"

"Yes, we're all present and accounted for," Ignis replied, closing his eyes. _Nothing_ in his body worked properly—his every sense, made so much more sensitive by Rose's training, was stunted by his awareness being reduced to this sliver of sensory input. Even cutting off the extra senses that had allowed him to 'see' so well today, this was too much—and yet not enough. Despite his mind's insistence that he remain calm and rational about this—after all, his body was completely fine—the physical sensations of the experience were beginning to overwhelm him. His heart was beating strangely in his chest, even if he couldn't fully perceive his chest here in this strange realm. His lungs weren't taking in enough air to support him properly. His stomach was burning and churning its way up his too-tight throat.

 _Ignis, are you all right?_

As he heard Gladio's thud and subsequent shout, Ignis leaned over and, cursing his feeble constitution, heaved up the contents of his stomach—the acid from the coffee he'd recently drunk burning its way up his esophagus before splashing just in front of his shoes—or at least, that was the way his mind chose to interpret things. His eyes (or eye?), however, merely registered a series of dots appearing on the grey line beneath the line that was his body.

 _I'll live,_ he finally managed to reply when his gut had stopped clenching.

"Iggy, did you just . . . blow two-dimensional chunks?" Noct asked.

"Heh, what's the matter, Ig? Can handle the jumpin' around like a fuckin' ninja in the dark, but can't handle . . . bein' a line? Or whatever the hell this is," Gladio chuckled.

"Apologies," Ignis replied as smoothly as he could manage. "It won't happen again. Please, now that we're all here, let us proceed posthaste from this nightmare."

The process took far longer than he'd wished, as they often had to stop for Laura to talk them through the disorienting realm of flashing, groaning, multicolored lines. It was often difficult, almost impossible, to interpret what they were even _looking_ at, and more than once, Ignis had to unfairly take advantage of his connection with Rose to get a three-dimensional rendering of what lay in front of him.

"Whaddya think this place existed for?" Prompto asked when he'd finally grown accustomed to existing as a line among several.

"Punishment in hell, I bet," Noct muttered.

"You may be onto something there," Laura said as she led them over a gap—likely leading to an abyss that would kill them should they fall through it. "Maybe the Five put Eos in hell for whatever her crime was, and Ifrit went down to get her. Maybe the entrance to hell was under the Disc or under Lestallum, which is why the meteors landed there. But remember this place was built by Solheim and is just being used by Ifrit to stage a play for us."

"So the question is, what was Solheim using it for before Ifrit turned it into a hellhole?" Gladio asked.

After another two leaps across gaping holes in their reduced reality, she answered, "I can't be sure, but this feels remarkably like time and space training for time-sensitive races."

 _Like the Time Academy the Doctor attended on Gallifrey?_ Ignis asked.

 _A primitive version, yes._

After another few minutes of walking, the line that represented Prompto's slice of existence halted in front of him, and Ignis reached out, feeling through Rose's senses for the pocket of the third dimension that would be evidence of the end of this harrowing 'adventure.'

"Prom, this would be easier if you closed your eyes," Laura said. "You about to become your normal self again, and the transition might be a bit . . . weird."

"Oh . . . kay," Prompto replied, and after a moment, his line seemed to shiver before disappearing. "All right!" he cried out in triumph. "Guys! It's all normal and safe here!"

The black and porcelain line that took Prompto's place, though he didn't recognize her, was still a sight that made Ignis's heart swell.

 _Rose,_ he whispered, wishing with all his existence that he had an arm to reach out to her in that moment of privacy. Remembering what it once was like to smile, he approximated the feeling as he said, _How many bodies of yours will I have the pleasure of meeting?_

 _Technically, they're all the same one, you know,_ she said amusedly. _I only wish you didn't have to endure something drastic to meet a new facet of me. Close your eyes, love. It's over now._

 _See you on the other side._

He did as she asked, blocking out the sight of the straight, colored line that represented his wife. For the first time since this ordeal began, he felt a hand on his shoulder and the sensation of being _shoved_ to the right. To the right! Opening his eyes, he found himself in a high, narrow stone hallway, just wide enough to fit his shoulders. Ahead of him, beyond the sight of Prompto flipping his hands back and forth in front of his face, Ignis could make out the figure of Eos in the narrow gap at the end of the hall.

"I don't wanna seem ungrateful here, but I hope we can get moving soon," Prompto said with a frown as he poked at his face. "I hate these tight spaces."

Ignis had but a brief moment to take in a deep breath of stale, ancient air—to revel in the fact that he had two legs; two arms; a full face; the hearing, vision, touch, smell, and taste that he'd grown accustomed to these past twenty-two years—before Noct's soft gasp sounded behind him.

Maneuvering himself around in the cramped space, he inspected Noct closely, noting his liege's pale, wide-eyed expression and breathlessness.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently, wondering how many times they would ask each other that question before this venture was completed.

"Yeah," he mumbled, taking a step forward so Gladio had enough room to be shoved into existence.

"Hot damn! Gotta admit, I was worried I'd never get all these parts back!" Gladio crowed, looking down at himself.

"All right, all right," came Laura's laugh from behind Gladio. "Now that we're all present and accounted for, let's get out of this hallway and find a ledge to get some rest. Gladio can use the time to make sure his dick still works right."

"Hey," he grunted, turning as best he could to face her. "Nothin' more important than that. Just ask Iggy."

Choosing to ignore Laura's and Gladio's suggestive game, Ignis put a hand on Prompto's shoulder. "Onward."

"Oh, man," Prompto said under his breath as he started forward, leaning back into the sharp decline of the metal floor beneath their boots. "I don't wanna go first."

"You'll be fine. Just keep moving."

Ignis kept his eyes locked on the dim sliver of Eos's statue, glowing grey in the gap ahead like a stone bust in some unseen source of light, as the angle of the floor beneath their feet became too steep for even their Crownsguard tread to maintain a sufficient grip. With several exclamations of protest, the group slid down what turned out to be a rusty beam and onto spacious, flat, three-dimensional space for the first time in what felt like years—where the floor was the floor, the walls were walls, and the ceiling was . . . somewhere high above them, but presumably where it belonged.

Having already ensured that Prompto was safe and whole, Ignis stood back to thoroughly inspect Noct and Gladio as they shot out from the chute, pleased to see that everyone was no more than shaken by their trials. Now that he'd lived through the experience, he thought perhaps it hadn't been so horrible after all—it had almost been . . . fun, in a terrifying sort of way. At the very least, it had been a stimulating intellectual experience—one he could present a paper on if theoretical physics still existed in the sphere of academia in a world of darkness.

When Laura appeared, hopping to her feet with that mad gleam of adventure in her eyes, he wanted nothing more in that moment than to scoop her up, press her against the wall behind her, and kiss her breathless—to share in that joyous sense of being _alive_ together. But before he could take a single step in her direction, Noct's voice brought him back to reality.

"I could fall asleep right here!" he sighed, sliding down the wall to flop onto the stone floor without so much as summoning a camp chair.

Ignis frowned over at him. "You can remain awake long enough to eat."

"Are we seriously sleeping here?" Prompto asked, eyeing the two-hundred-foot statue staring them down.

"You see a better place?" Gladio challenged.

There was no discernable change in Laura's expression as Ignis stepped back and began summoning camp chairs for everyone to sit in, but the way her elation seemed to freeze in place was proof enough that he'd hurt her with his reticence, likely deeply.

 _It's not you; it's the situation,_ she reassured him as she summoned a table on which to place their pre-made meal. _I really do understand, you know._ _And I have you all to myself every night. What more could a girl ask for?_

 _A bed and some privacy, perhaps,_ he sighed, summoning the bowls as Laura retrieved the fried rookie on rice they'd made together . . . twelve years ago for her now.

Their meal was a quiet affair, though whether that was due to the eerie atmosphere or their sheer exhaustion, Ignis wasn't certain. It wasn't until after he and Laura had done their best to clean up with their limited resources that he noticed either Prompto or Gladio had put his sleeping bag between Noct's and Laura's on the right side of the door. Ignis frowned down at the new arrangement, as Noct, Prompto, and Laura usually slept together due to their smaller size. There had to be some reason for this change of habit, even if he couldn't fathom it.

"Come and sit down, Specs," Noct said, slapping Ignis's sleeping bag as he sat down cross-legged on his own. "Got somethin' I gotta say."

"Of course," he said with a nod, sitting on the edge of his bag as he began removing his boots. From the corner of his eye, he could just make out Laura heading over to speak with Gladio and Prompto. For whatever reason, Noct must have wanted privacy for this conversation.

"Can you . . . turn off the head thing?" Noct asked hesitantly as Ignis removed his second boot, dismissed it, and stretched his legs out in front of him.

Ignis nodded as he felt Laura pull away with a soft caress. Likely due to the fact that she could still hear them physically, she chose in that moment to strike up a rather boisterous conversation about the photos Prompto had taken that day in an effort to give them the true privacy Noct was seeking.

"I always did, you know—when you and I spoke privately."

"Oh. Good."

Ignis waited patiently, as he always did, for Noct to find his next words. He had a feeling he knew what this was about, particularly after Noct's request that he disconnect from Laura to speak about it. Noct's thoughts on the matter of his and Laura's marriage couldn't be too damning, he supposed, as Noct had allowed Ignis the luxury of being with her nearly exclusively as she convalesced. Still, he couldn't ever recall a time when he'd ever felt so anxious for Noct's opinion to be made known.

"So, married," he began, reaching up to fiddle with his hair. "You know, even hearing you say it, I still couldn't believe it."

"I do apologize for not having informed you earlier."

"Nah, I get it. You were protecting each other from Ardyn. Any one of us coulda slipped up and let on about you guys," he said, batting the apology away. He sighed deeply, staring down at his lap before saying more quietly, "I'm not stupid, ya know. You're doing this thing with her because of me."

Ignis opened his mouth to deny the accusation, to claim that he and Laura had always maintained decorum for so many reasons—decency, safety, not flaunting their happiness in the face of those less fortunate. And they had been so very fortunate—how many others could say that they could perform their duty to King and country with their loved one by their side? But since she'd returned, he'd found the reasons for abstaining in expressing his affection, at least in front of the other three, had all but disappeared, leaving only one very good reason—one he wouldn't cast aside no matter how much it pained them both.

"I . . . that is, we didn't wish to—"

"Do you have any idea how much I wish I could have . . .," he interrupted in a harsh voice but trailed off, shaking his head roughly. "She came _back_ , Specs, like a miracle. I'm not gonna pretend I'm not gonna . . . notice, but it kinda sucks when you throw that miracle away."

Ignis blinked in surprise at the Prince's sudden display of insight. But, surely he couldn't be interpreting Noct correctly. "I'm not certain I understand your meaning."

"Just . . . when it's just the five of us? Don't hide it anymore." His indigo eyes went wide with pain before he looked away toward the other three chatting happily over Prompto's camera. "That kinda thing reminds us why we do this. Helps us do our jobs better."

Ignis didn't quite know how to respond. He'd always been a private man—not the sort to display any sort of physical affection in public, whether toward a friend or Laura. But in extreme moments like the one earlier, when he was certain that no one but the other three would bear witness . . . perhaps they could be given some small leeway to express themselves now and then—as long as their expression didn't increase the burden Noct had to bear. They had, after all, allowed their manners to slip a time or two, such as after Ravatogh. And it was true that Noct, Gladio, and Prompto were family. If it was inappropriate to express even polite affection in front of family, when _was_ it appropriate?

"I'll see what I can manage, Highness," he said quietly.

"Good," Noct replied, his voice brightening. "We gotta stop talkin' about all this stuff. It's embarrassing."

"Are you guys ready for bed then?" Laura interrupted, seeming to appear from nowhere standing next to Noct's sleeping bag. "Have to admit, even I'm a bit tired."

"Yeah," Noct sighed. "I'm beat."

Ignis scooted down so he could stretch out fully, and when Laura went still after settling into her own bag, he hesitated briefly before setting his hand lightly on the curve of her hip with a sigh.

 _I'm proud of you, you know,_ she said as he closed his eyes.

 _Whatever for? I certainly had some less than proud moments today,_ he replied, thinking with shame of how thoroughly he'd lost his composure in the two-dimensional room.

 _You used your training to see in the dark all day with hardly a second thought._

 _I suppose I did,_ he said somewhat smugly, squeezing her hip.

 _Where would you like to go tonight?_ she asked, and he could just make out the reflection of Eos's spotlight glittering in her eyes as he opened his to look at her. _We could start with a nice bath, maybe some ballet or composing . . . or continue your driving lessons?_

A bath . . . they may not have been able to be together in their dream world for fear of becoming too unruly and messy, but that didn't mean he couldn't do something for her to make up for his reticence.

 _Take me home, first, please._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

First of all, did anyone else notice in the collab when Ignis said something along the lines of Y'jhimei's pointed ears piquing his interest? I may have gotten a bit excited hearing that.

Secondly, I had to add a reference that I forgot in the last chapter. If for some reason you were waiting patiently for the Doctor Who "wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey" quote, it's back there.

Vincent van Gogh only said those words in Doctor Who.

I realize that the game makes it so only Noct can go into Pitioss—changed that. There are also rooms and steps I skipped completely—one switch activating multiple things instead of just one, etc.—and rewove together to make this chapter about 100k words shorter. They can warp in the dungeon because I say they can, but they obviously don't a lot of the time because of the imprecise landing issue.

The gravity room is actually because everything is at a 45-degree angle, confusing wall and floor, but I've changed it to be a gravity thing because it's more fun to imagine. The same thing for the 2D part—they are actually 3D with the perspective changed to be far off to the side in game. Also, there's no resting spot in front of the giant statue, but the guys need some sleep!

I had to re-analyze those fan theories a lot more than I thought I would need to, but they still deserve so much credit! I'll be posting them next chapter.


	65. Chapter 65

_Rose, what's the matter?!_

Laura had dropped to her knees at the bellybutton of the great statue of Eos, her fingers brushing along the black leather fingers. _Genji gloves_ , Gladio had identified them as, and the pieces of the puzzle she'd been afraid to put together began to fall into place, even if they were merely speculation. Genji, as in the Minamoto clan—members of the Japanese imperial family who were cast out of consideration from the line of succession, just as the two children that represented these gloves were cast out of consideration for Eos's divine inheritance. She'd only known about any of this because she'd taken part of the Kenmu Restoration in Japan in 1336 with the Doctor, and she wondered exactly how often the Bad Wolf was still setting up these coincidences in her life, plucking at the strings of fate and happenstance so she would know just the right information, be in just the right place at the right time. It was the only way her bond with the TARDIS was capable of intervening when necessary, after all. Had she known Laura would end up here one day?

It was a dodgy process, operating on so much speculation, but if they were sent here by the gods, what other conclusions were they supposed to have come to? It was quite the assumption to send them here expecting the other four to glean any information from this trip, as there was no way she herself could have done it without her extensive knowledge of Earth lore. This new information made this journey far too personal for her, leaving her to worry once again for Ignis's safety. Eos's crime had been the same as hers, indeed, if she'd managed to correctly mash her own Greek lore, which had been entirely untrue, with what she knew of this world. But if the Five had done this to Eos for her crime, what would they do to her? What would they do to Ignis?

"Come on," Noct said in a low voice, leaning over to put a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever this is happened thousands of years ago. Nothin' to do with us."

"This has everything to do with you."

 _Rose, please. Tell me what's the matter._

"What do you mean? What does any of this have to do with me?" Noct asked, his eyes going wide as they shot to the statue's stony gaze.

Laura took a deep breath and stood, taking slow heavy steps up to Eos's chin. "Once upon a time, there was a rosy-fingered, saffron-robed Goddess of the Dawn named Eos," she began. "Homer had a bit of a crush, you see. Anyway, none of this was true in my universe, but it was said that I fell in love with a mortal man named Cephalus and spirited him away, bearing him three sons, two of which had the power of the gods."

She reached out to touch the left Genji glove in Noct's hand. "Eosphoros." Moving to the right glove, she said, "Hesperos. The morning and the evening stars. Phaethon turned out not to possess powers and was supposedly carried off by Aphrodite to become a watchman in one of her temples."

"Half mortal, half immortal children," Ignis breathed, his mind beginning to race with the implications of her words, but he hadn't yet grasped the full scope of what they were dealing with, she could tell. His horror wasn't complete enough for that. "That would certainly be considered a crime in the eyes of the Six, if the Tidemother's attitude toward mortals is any indication."

 _Was it the children or the relationship itself that offended them so? What does that mean for us?_ he asked, glaring down at her with a hard, glittering expression. _Don't think I haven't noticed the similarities._ _I_ _ **won't**_ _let them take you away from me._

The Six hadn't made a move toward either of them yet beyond their intense dislike of her existence, but neither of them had been near a god since their bonding—that was, not when said god wasn't preoccupied with other, far more important matters. There was no guarantee that it hadn't been the mixed blood of the children that had been the issue—something that would never be a problem for her and Ignis. But if they came for Ignis because of their bond, the Starscourge would be the least of their problems. They may have been gods to these boys, to the planet's population, but to her, they were just another species that didn't have the right to push her or anyone else around. And she didn't have the moral dilemma of this world's Eos—the Six weren't her children.

 _I don't know, but it doesn't matter. They can't touch us. Besides, maybe they repented. Gentiana did refer to this place as 'the shame of the Six.'_

Laura pointed in the direction beyond Eos's neck, where they knew from their landing that she held a katana high above her head. "They must have come for her, and she tried to defend herself, but the Six were her children, too. How could she hurt them? Frozen in indecision, Eos must've been cast into the Underworld as punishment."

Prompto bit his lip in hesitation before asking, "So if she's mother of the Six, doesn't that make Shiva and Ifrit . . . you know, brother and sister?"

"It happens all the time with gods on Earth, too," Laura said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Whatever species they are must not have issues with consanguinity and mating."

"Um . . . oh . . . kay. But doesn't Solheim fit into this somewhere? With all the immortality stuff and Ifrit getting pissed?" Prompto asked.

"Solheim must have learned of her imprisonment after a time. A goddess of a solar nature can't have been doing well down there in the dark, and the Six wouldn't have wanted her to die either, protectors of the planet that they are." Ignis tilted his head, examining the shackles around the goddess's neck before striding up her right arm just far enough that his light shined on one of her shackled wrists. Looking up to the source of the light that had kept her illuminated no matter where they'd been within Pitioss, he said, "Perhaps Solheim worked with the gods to create that contraption in Costlemark to feed sunlight down to her—at least at first."

"Before they turned dark. Before they built Steyliff," Noct said.

"Wouldn't take 'em long to figure out they could use her imprisonment to their advantage, I bet," Gladio said with a nod.

"And started trying to find ways to take Eos's powers with that same machine, as well—the Power of Life for immortality, the Power of Light to power their own facilities, and maybe even the Power of Time, considering what they did here," Laura said.

"But Ifrit loved mortals. He woulda protested what was being done to his mother," Gladio said. "Broke outta his own prison and gave Solheim hell for it."

"The fall of Solheim and the War of the Astrals spanned years, though. How long did she suffer down here before Ifrit saved her?" Ignis asked, his agitation barely restrained as he paced back and forth on the goddess's bicep.

"Long enough to get the scourge," Gladio said in a low voice. When Ignis shot him a glare, his fingers curling into fists, Gladio said, "What? We already know how the story ends. Bahamut ran 'em both through with a blade in Ravatogh before he took her womb to give to the Founder King."

"And they were both infected when he did that," Prompto said as he raised his eyes to the goddess's face looming over them. "So did Ifrit give it to her, or did she give it to Ifrit?"

"She gave it to Ifrit," Laura said immediately. "We're playing Ifrit in this little play, and the moment we touched her, she fell backwards onto her back. She's sick. I still don't know how she got it, though."

Noct shook his head and mumbled, "I still don't get how this has 'everything to do with me.'"

 _My word,_ Ignis gasped, his eyes nearly popping out of his head as his gaze shot to Noct. _The children. She had them before she fell ill, didn't she? They survived, didn't they?_

"Cephalus means 'head' in Greek—you know, like the head of a family," she hinted, hoping they would understand on their own, hoping she wouldn't have to be the one to tell them, especially Noct, this.

"So . . .," Noct trailed off.

She took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "So, there are two families on this planet that display evidence of the power of the gods, that can channel magic from Eos's womb—some of the Fleurets have the Power of Life to counteract the scourge, and, according to Ignis, Ravus has the Power of the Storm . . . an ability Eos had already passed down once, to Ramuh."

"That strength of his could be from Titan," Gladio added with an aggressive grunt. "Probably why the Ring fried Ulric and didn't kill him, now that I think of it—divine blood."

"Shit," Noct breathed. "And the Lucis Caelums always had power over time, with the warping, and sword-summoning—like Bahamut."

"But that means you're . . .," Prompto began, but he shook his head, choking on his next words. His, Ignis's, and Noct's minds had all gone still in shock at the conclusion they'd reached but couldn't, daren't put a voice to.

It was Gladio who said it in a heavy voice, "Part Astral. I'll be the one to say it. Noct is part Astral."

Laura backed away from Eos's chin and joined Ignis on the statue's arm, where he stood with a hand pushing up his glasses as he rubbed at his eyes. To her surprise, he reached out blindly with his other hand, catching her fingers between his leather-clad ones and gripping tightly.

She blinked down at their joined hands. He'd touched her very few times when he'd considered himself 'on duty—' mostly in the car when they were first getting together or when he'd believed he'd been close to losing her. From what she'd heard from Gladio, he'd been uncharacteristically demonstrative with her, even while working, as she'd lain in her healing coma. But since they'd returned from his week-long recuperation, he'd been understandably distant out of respect for Noct's mourning, an emotion she always caught a wave of whenever she and Ignis so much as looked at one another. But gods, being considerate for Lunafreya's death didn't make the pain of having missed him for so long any easier to bear. So often during these last couple of days, it had taken all she had not to wrap her arm around his just to feel the warmth of his skin and the pulse of his heart beating. But there wasn't just Noct to consider; Ignis, for all his passionate warmth, usually enjoyed his personal space, and even though he'd felt just as clingy as she these past few days, she still didn't want to impose.

But what could Noct have said to him last night to make him like this? Holding her hand when neither of them was in danger of dying? In front of the others?

And speaking of Noct . . .. "Are you all right, Noct?" she asked, examining his tight expression and closed eyes carefully. _Ignis?_ she added, as he didn't seem to be in much better condition.

"Yeah," Noct muttered, looking down at his boots as the shock seemed to fade slowly from his mind. "I mean, I guess it doesn't change anything."

"The prophecy," Ignis spat suddenly, his mind clouding over with a red haze. "Noct and Lady Lunafreya were chosen to rid the world of darkness and blight because they're the Children of the Dawn—of Light and Life."

 _But why did it have to be Noct?_ he added as he adjusted his glasses back on his face. _Why does it require his death? What does this have to do with the Chancellor? Perhaps this could be the key to saving him._

"But why me?" Noct asked as though he were listening in on Ignis's thoughts. "Why not my dad, the Founder King, or hell, any one of the Old Kings in between? And if Luna was chosen, why did Ardyn kill her?"

 _Does he know?_ she asked before adding, "I don't know why it was you, Noct. Don't take this the wrong way, but you aren't terribly powerful, magically speaking."

 _I don't believe so,_ Ignis sighed. _He never seemed to understand the gravity of his calling. If I were truly honest with myself . . . I might have suspected it was a possibility, one I most certainly wanted defeat. Gladio probably suspects in much the same manner._

"I know," Noct said in a low voice. "My dad was always better at warping and summoning and stuff."

 _Fate has not been kind to the Lucian Kings,_ Laura said, thinking of Regis's slow decline and subsequent sacrifice, and that was to say nothing of the sacrifice still to come if they couldn't find a way to stop it.

 _To any of the Children of the Dawn,_ he said, thinking of Queen Sylva Via Fleuret, cut down by General Glauca; Lord Ravus, forced to serve in the NIflian military in an effort to save his sister from her fate; and Lady Lunafreya herself.

"But . . . there's one more Child of the Dawn fate hasn't been kind to," she said reluctantly, bringing their conversation out to the others, because no one needed to hear this more than Noct. "You see, I don't know if Cephalus's name was _actually_ Cephalus here on this world, but I bet I know what his surname was before the family line split off into Lucis Caelum and Fleuret."

"Ya know, I'm starting to be able to tell when you're about to drop a load of MTs on us," Prompto said with a grimace.

 _The Chancellor,_ Ignis said in horror, his eyes widening as he followed the thread of her thoughts.

"Izunia."

"What?!" Noct exclaimed, his eyes shooting up to meet hers as Prompto and Gladio shouted similar expressions of shock.

"Do you remember on that altar what Ardyn said when he thought I was Shiva?" she asked, looking up into Ignis's tense gaze.

 _I've tried so hard to forget about that day,_ he said in a strangled tone, but aloud, he said, "He accused the gods of cursing him to heal the land of their scourge before it consumed him, meaning he had the Power of Eos. And he said 'two thousand years—' that would place his origins around the correct time period."

"And to think," she chuckled a little, "he _really_ reacted that one time I asked about his family. Yeah, he was checking in on them from time to time, all right."

"But that doesn't make sense," Gladio said. "He'd either have to be the Founder King or the First Oracle, and neither of them went psycho, that we know of. He couldn't be one of the two brothers, and now we got three people in a single generation to account for. You sure the third kid didn't have divine powers? And how'd he get to be immortal? No one else in the families are."

"The two gloves would seem to indicate that only two were relevant. The third brother might not have even existed in this world," Laura said. "But who said that the Founder King and the First Oracle had to be the first generation of children? I bet Ardyn never had kids to continue the line. He doesn't strike me as the white-picket fence, grow a beer belly, and get a minivan sort. And as far as the immortality goes . . . no idea. Maybe Solheim's experimentation with immortality was successful with him because he was already a demi-god."

"So, he'd have to be one of Eos's grandkids or further down the line then," Gladio said, scratching his head.

Ignis stepped forward, raising a finger to say, "The timeline is somewhat muddled, but Ifrit's war against Solheim and subsequent War of the Astrals lasted well over fifty years. It was only after that that Lucis was founded. That certainly leaves room for a generation or two."

"Solheim was able to hold out against a god _that_ long?" Prompto said in awe.

"It was a rather large empire, and as we've seen, they weren't without power of their own—even if it was gained dishonestly."

"All right, we can sit here and discuss history all day, or we can get moving and finish this up," Laura said, taking a few more steps up the statue's arm. "I'd like to see some daylight today, if I can."

"Yeah, I've had about all I can take this early in the morning," Noct said.

As she led the way forward, climbing up the barred section of the katana's guard, Ignis said, _That's not one of your weaknesses, is it? Keeping you in the dark?_ As he asked the question, his thoughts turned toward the future and the darkness likely heading for them all. Would she be at a disadvantage? Would the darkness kill her?

 _No more than it is for you, and that's something we're going to have to start planning for—for everyone._

 _We could likely sustain the population as long as Eos survives to heat the planet through the photophilic particles. The rest would be down to food production, ecosystem conservation, and vitamin D rationing._

 _Oh, is that all?_ she said airily as she leapt onto the katana's blade and began sliding, picking up speed as the angle grew steeper. _Lucky for you, I'm equipped to handle such things. Get out your lists though, and make a note to tell all your contacts to get people canning any surplus crops immediately._

Studying the Starscourge, supporting the ecosystem, finding a way to save Noct . . . it looked like her social calendar for when they returned was beginning to fill up rather quickly.

The sword _finally_ spit her out, shooting her straight for what she hoped would be the ground at terminal velocity, but she should have known that this place wouldn't take any pains for ensuring their safety when they landed. The force with which she hit the stone block floor would've been enough to break several bones had she been human, maybe even kill her, and as she could feel Ignis only seconds behind her, reached out a hand as she rolled, casting the spell that would temporarily imbue the physical properties of the stone with enough give to make the landing safe for the boys.

"Nirwa," she gasped as the pain continued to radiate from her left shoulder and hip, and though Eos couldn't hear her from this distance, she sent the mad goddess a mental apology as the spell threatened to simultaneously set her on fire and suck her dry.

"Oof," Ignis grunted as he hit the cushioned stone and rolled, but he leapt to his feet immediately on seeing her curled up against the wall, his mind flaring with worry. "Rose," he murmured as he rushed to her side, his gentle hands probing her for injury the moment he fell to his knees.

"What happened?" she heard Noct ask, but her diaphragm was still too tied in knots for her to answer.

"I don't imagine the floor had quite that much give when she landed," Ignis answered. _I don't feel anything broken. What can I do? I imagine our bonded healing wouldn't work so close to Eos?_

 _I doubt it. Just give me a second._ She'd be able to walk here in a minute, but she fervently hoped that today's journey wouldn't be as strenuous as yesterday's. From the feel of things, she had a few bruised ribs and what felt like a single contusion covering her entire left side, which would make leaping quite a lot of fun.

"You okay, Princess?" Gladio asked.

"Yep!" she said with a cheery grin, sitting up despite Ignis's protesting hands and pushing aside the dull throb in her side. "So! Continuing on with the whole play theory, that fall could've killed you guys."

"So Ifrit got hurt bad enough to almost die? You think he got infected?" Prompto asked as he bounced up and down on the cushy stone.

"We know the scourge is malarial and DNA-based, which means it isn't likely passed through touch . . . would've been good to know. I'm guessing incubation period in humans is about a month, based on malaria, but I could be wrong." Laura said. "But these _are_ a different species we're talking about here, and we've seen from my case it's possible to be infected immediately."

"So either Ifrit was injured badly enough for the scourge to enter his bloodstream, his species allowed him to get infected that much more quickly, or he was deliberately infected by Eos gone mad?" Ignis said, tilting his head in thought. _Are you certain you'll be all right?_

 _If I weren't, what would you do? It's not like you can carry me on your back through a place like this._

 _No, but we could camp here another day while you rest._

Using the wall for leverage, Laura shakily rose to her feet, accepting Ignis's supportive hands instead of getting impatient with his coddling as she normally would. And it was fortunate that she had, as the floor beneath them shuddered violently before hurtling up at breakneck speed, nearly sending her to her feet again before Ignis pulled her to him to keep her steady.

"I'm sorry!" Noct yelled over the turbulent air rushing over their heads. "I just stepped on a block and it pushed down like a button! I didn't know it would do that!"

"It's fine," Laura wheezed around Ignis's shoulder. "I think Ifrit's in a hurry now to surface. Eos must be fading fast." _Hopefully, this will take us all the way,_ she added.

 _Indeed._

Ignis only let her go once the floor that was now an elevator lurched to an abrupt halt, and she walked slowly to the ledge, the oppressive dark too deep for even her eyes to penetrate beyond the single beam of metal reaching out into space. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, cocked her head, and began to sing in her loudest, most obnoxious voice with her most terrible, fake French accent.

"Why are we here, what's life all about? Is God really real, or is there some doubt? Well, tonight we're going to sort it all out, for tonight it's the Meaning of Life!"

Listening carefully to where the sound traveled off into nothing or bounced back to her, she deduced it would be another day of jumping and leaping and balancing, but at least this room didn't have any gravimetric anomalies to contend with.

"What the fuck," Gladio muttered from behind her.

Prompto let out a little laugh before he said, "I've kinda just learned to roll with it, personally."

 _You do realize that it reflects . . . oddly on my own decisions when my wife acts as a madwoman, even if there is a method behind your madness._

 _Ah yes, but it's my goal in life to receive as many 'are you insane' looks as possible._

"Hey guys?" Noct called out. "I found all this stuff here: a megalixer, a blue choker, a safety bit, and a silver bangle. All this stuff has to do with keeping someone alive."

"In a fight for their lives," Gladio agreed. "Ifrit and Eos are dying, and he's tryin' to keep them alive as they escape hell."

"Well, then, we're in a hurry to get out of here," Laura said cheerfully, jumping onto the narrow beam and beckoning them over as she grinned against the grimace that wanted to spread over her face. That wasn't the best of ideas to leap down like that, but she had a feeling she needed to get used to it. She could practically see Ignis's frown in her mind's eye as she skipped off, singing the next verse merrily.

"What's the point of all this hoax? Is it the chicken and the egg time, are we just yolks? Or perhaps we're just one of God's little jokes. Well, ca c'est the Meaning of Life."

There, a dead-end up ahead, but a blind leap down below. How was any human expected to find that?

 _Rose, we could camp right back there, even if only for a few hours._

 _Stop your fussing, love. I've had to do worse while injured,_ she said gently as she approached the section of rail she was supposed to leap off. Without hesitating, she made the jump onto the barring below, landing more heavily on her right side to minimize the ache that radiated up her left.

"Where'd she go?!" Noct called out. "Did she reset? I didn't hear a boom. Iggy?"

"I'm down here," she said, summoning one of her orbs with a groaning whine of magic. The blue illumination blinded her to everything else in the room as she lit it, but at least the boys would be able to see where to jump down to.

"Ugh, does anyone else get that tingly feeling in the backs of their legs when we have to make jumps like this?" Prompto griped before leaping off the rail.

As the other three jumped down, Laura solicited his help in attaching the orb to the old cape fastenings on her back so they could see her the next time she made another blind leap.

And there were a number of blind leaps to be made as she continued to sing, allowing her voice to echo back to her so she could see just where the hell Ifrit or Solheim intended for them to go, "Is life just a game where we make up the rules while we're searching for something to say, or are we just simple spiraling coils of self-replicating DNA-nay-nay-nay-nay-nay?"

"Why the hell do you keep singing that song?" Noct asked when he recovered from his last jump.

Laura gave him a mad grin, wiggling her head back and forth a little as she said, "Helps me see better!"

Of course, that didn't answer his question in the slightest, but she had always loved the looks the Doctor would get when he gave mad answers for his mad behavior, and there was nothing better for distracting a group of people groping their way through the deep, depressing black than forcing them to contemplate why they were following someone who'd so obviously lost it. Even Ignis, who knew so well what she was doing that he could've used the technique himself, was amused with her antics, as he claimed he would've found something more appropriate to shout into the dark. She, however, disagreed. For all that the song had been sung to a silly tune in a horrible impression of a French accent, it was rather serious and apropos to their situation.

"What is life? What is our fate? Is there a Heaven and Hell? Do we reincarnate? Is mankind evolving or is it too late? Well tonight, here's the Meaning of Life."

Fortunately, their path became an enclosed hallway by the time she detected that refracted bend in space that indicated another journey through wonky gravity. Given the lack of precarious ledges this time, she decided that the stakes were low enough to keep her boots on as she skipped through the dark metal rooms, up walls and ceilings, only slowing when she felt one of the boys' minds lag behind.

But there, claw marks seeping with scourge along the wall, drag marks along the floor. Nearly tripping over her feet in an effort to stop before she passed them, Laura winced at the ache in her side.

Running gentle fingers just shy of the claw marks, imagining what Ifrit must have gone through just to be labeled a traitor by history, imagining what Eos must have gone through only to be forgotten, she said softly, "For millions, this life is a sad vale of tears, sitting 'round with rien—nothing to say while scientists say we're just simply spiraling coils of self-replicating DNA-nay-nay-nay-nay-nay."

"It must have been terrifying for him, down in this disorienting place as he tried to claw his way back up to the sun," Ignis said quietly as he stared at the scratch marks. "I wonder if he even knew what was happening to them."

"Looks like things're getting' worse for our heroes," Gladio remarked as his light fell on what had caught her interest.

"I think I know how this ends," Noct said. "Ravatogh's not far away."

"And just think—that's like, your great-great-great-greaaaat grandmother," Prompto said, squinting in thought. "Hey, does that mean you and Lady Lunafreya are related, too?"

Laura rolled her eyes as Noct widened his in horror. Humans. "How many Lucian kings have there been? One-hundred and fourteen? That's quite a few generations removed. But even after all those generations, there's still enough divine blood running through those veins of yours that you and I never solved our energy compatibility issues."

"Still kinda weird to think about," Noct mumbled, shaking his head.

Ignis turned toward the hall that continued up toward the surface. "Then don't think about it. Let's go."

 _Are you in a hurry to get going now?_ she teased. _I thought you were eager to camp down here, start hanging up curtains._

 _You're hiding how much pain you're in,_ he snapped. _The sooner we leave this place, the sooner you'll rest and recuperate, perhaps even bathe in those hot springs we found by the runway._

As she led them out of the dark hall and onto the previously-unexplored upper levels of the room with the five immortality doors, she replied with a hint of a warning in her tone, _I don't see the point in staying here another day when I'm perfectly fine to go forward. I don't want to be here any longer than any of you do._

Upon entering the lighted room, she stopped suddenly, taking a few more steps forward to prevent Prompto from skidding into her back.

"Whoa, warn a guy next time," he laughed.

"Sorry," she said, reaching around to the back of her neck to unclip her orb. "I don't like being a spotlight for any longer than I can help. Dunno how you guys do it, wandering around in the dark with spotlights attached to you that practically scream, 'LOOK AT ME'!"

"Well, we kinda need 'em to see, you know?"

"Yeah, but you also attract every daemon around for miles. Bet we'd hardly ever run into one if you guys weren't putting on a disco show. Anyway, messes with my perception filter too, in case I ever need to sneak around. Bad thing about it is I can't draw attention to myself, or it doesn't work."

As she spoke, her attention slid behind Prompto to where Ignis was balancing on a metal beam that stuck out perpendicular to the walkway. _What is it?_ she asked when he reached the end of the somewhat flimsy rod, where a pile of grey fabric was dangling from the end.

"Warm inners," he said, lifting the suit carefully so it wouldn't catch on the sharp ends of the beam. "These could be useful, indeed."

"Looks like Ifrit needed protection against the cold. Guess his wife sided against him in this fight," Gladio noted.

"That's not terribly surprising," Laura said as Ignis made it back to the walkway, and they started forward again. "When it comes to the gods, love and favor tends to be fickle in the face of danger."

 _That hasn't been my experience,_ Ignis said with a swell of affection and irritation in equal measure. _Mine seems to be quite hardheaded when it comes to putting herself in danger._

Laura took a running leap to the top of one of the pillars, looking down over the first room they had made a mess of only yesterday. They had to be getting close to getting out of here. The sun would be setting in a few hours, and they hadn't stopped to take a break since they left their camping spot early that morning. Everyone, including Laura, was tiring, and though they'd all drastically improved at making the jumps over the chasms, the deaths would likely start coming soon if they didn't find a place to rest. She might have been spared the horror of feeling them die in this strange place, but that didn't mean that each time wasn't a nauseating, heart-stabbing experience.

 _I always told you I wasn't a goddess, and there's your proof. Divinity is not a thing to be lauded,_ she answered, though she knew from his recent experiences with the gods that he was well-aware of this by now.

It seemed Pitioss wasn't quite ready to set them free, however, as they were made to flit among the ceilings of the first two rooms—back and forth, playing with switches and puzzles until all of them, even Ignis, had died at least once. Once Prompto had fallen off the same pillar for the third time, Laura put her foot down, insisting that they all rest with a snack while she finished up these pointless errands that teased her with the promise of freedom but never delivered. Ignis, of course, insisted on accompanying her in her 'fragile condition,' but despite her frustration at his insistence, his speed and training would allow them to complete the task more quickly than the five of them together. Not to mention, her victory simply wasn't worth the fight she would have to put up to keep him there.

Laura felt his fingers grasp for her right hand the very second they had turned the corner and pull her to him. Letting go to grasp her head, he pressed his lips to hers forcefully, over and over, as she hooked her fingers through his belt loops and pulled him closer.

 _You. Are._ _ **Utterly.**_ _Frustrating,_ he said between kisses before letting her go and gesturing her forward. _I just don't want to lose you._

 _And you won't,_ she said, leaping on top of a pillar that led back to the immortality doors, depressing a switch that did gods only knew what, and making the next jump. _I've been around awhile. Odds are pretty good I still will be._

Their conversation ceased as they continued to work together, their minds reduced to sending only the images necessary to communicate the next step in their progress. It was long, frustrating work as they flitted back and forth between the two rooms, up and down stairs, traversing dark halls, and stepping on more switches. Still, he seemed to work more efficiently when he didn't have Noct to worry about.

"You realize," he said as he picked up the insulated inners that indicated Ramuh's involvement in this dark endeavor and dismissed them to the armiger, "that if Solheim was the progenitor of the Time Lords, their actions here don't exactly paint them in a favorable light."

"I think it's time to get the others," she said pointing to the elevator they'd discovered before turning back toward the main room where they'd left the group. "And . . . it wouldn't be the first time. The Doctor once had to do something . . . unspeakable to stop them from destroying all of existence, every universe. They certainly weren't always benevolent guardians of the multiverse."

The curiosity burning in his mind prickled at their bond, but this was one thing she would never share. It was one thing to be responsible for the death of an entire planet due to honest failure, but quite another matter to be the one to actively murder an entire planet to save the multiverse. It had taken _years_ for James to say the words out loud, even if she'd long ago guessed what he'd had to do, and she'd sworn to him that she'd never tell another soul—not even her second soulmate.

"Hey guys, this way!" she called down the two flights of stone stairs. "Knocked out one of those daemon face things, so you should just be able to walk on up!"

Once the other three had joined them on the elevator platform, Laura pressed the switch, smiling a little when Ignis's hands moved to hover over her biceps but stopped short of touching her outright. It was probably for the best, as gripping her arms like that would've definitely hurt her left arm more than the embrace had.

Light flooded the little block cell when the elevator jerked to a halt, and though Laura and the others closed their eyes and breathed in a lungful of fresh, clean air, reveling in the sensation of the warm, afternoon sun on their faces, the corner of her mind couldn't help but grow concerned at the pile of black fabric near their way out.

"I know we didn't come all this way for a barred window," Noct growled impatiently, striding forward until he stood in the archway before coming to a sudden halt. "Oh. It's just the fence outside. Thank gods. We can leave from here."

"What's that ya got there?" Gladio asked as Noct picked up the fabric at his feet, running it through his fingers until he found two corners to hold up in front of him.

"It's a black hood," Noct said grimly.

"Of death," Ignis added.

A pall of mourning settled over all the minds in the room like heavy fog as they realized what this meant.

"So just why, why are we here? And just what, what, what, what do we fear? Well ce soir, for a change, it will all be made clear, for this is the Meaning of Life - c'est le sens de la vie—this is the Meaning of Life," Laura finished in a whisper.

"She got one last view of the sun before she died," Prompto whispered, his glistening eyes settling on the late afternoon sun peeking through the archway.

Noct walked closer to the edge, gesturing for the four of them to crowd into the small space so they could look out over the landscape. Looming over them was the Rock of Ravatogh, with the glowing embers of Ifrit's horns still sending hazy, blue-grey clouds of smoke, ash, and photophilic particles into the atmosphere, corrupting the warm golden glow of the afternoon light—and next to him, the petrified wing of Eos rising to the sky.

"He didn't make it far with her before Bahamut put 'em both down," Gladio growled.

"And just think. All this time he's been called a traitor, and he was actually the good guy," Prompto added quietly.

"And this was the only way he could tell his side of the story," Laura said. "But if Ardyn's done something to one of his Messenger bodies, his luck hasn't changed much. I bet he's been scourged again. That plague has a mind control element that's nasty to fight. Even I might've succumbed if my shields weren't so strong from being telepathically attacked so frequently."

"Why do you think Eos didn't just go into a Messenger body then?" Prompto asked.

Laura shook her head. "Could be several reasons. Maybe the Six had her Messengers killed to keep her from escaping hell. Maybe her symbiotic relationship with the star would be broken if she migrated to another body. I'm afraid I don't know how this all works."

"But you said she's still alive down there, right? Like, her mind?" Noct asked.

"Yeah. She's half-mad down there with sickness and suffering. But she and the Crystal keep the sun rising, keep the star burning in space."

"But she's dying, right?" Gladio asked. "After we handle this Ardyn and plague shit blockin' out the sun, we gotta deal with this somehow. Put her out of her misery and keep the sun burning."

"Yeah," Noct agreed. "One thing at a time though. Just hope she can hold out."

Ignis held her back for a moment as the other three jumped down, and casting his troubled eyes out toward the Rock, he pulled her close, careful not to squeeze her left side. Laura nuzzled her face into his warm, hard chest, breathing in the scent of dust, sweat, and him as she wrapped her arms around his narrow waist in comfort. He'd been quiet since they'd discovered the black hood, but his mindscape had been a seething storm of fear and heartache disproportionate to the story they'd just been told. She didn't understand, and he wasn't giving away the answers.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" she asked.

"There are too many similarities. I—" His words choked off before he swallowed and continued in a stronger voice. "That's not you, is it? This isn't somehow a twisted history of you and me, is it? Please, tell me it isn't."

He finally opened his mind fully to what he'd been thinking—life finds a way. He'd imagined the two of them somehow getting whisked away to the past, managing to get her pregnant, founding the Lucis Caelum and Fleuret lines, then meeting a gruesome end at the hands of the Six. The longer he'd stood in that mockery of a prison, the more it had made sense to him.

"Gods, _no_ , Ignis," she breathed, twisting her neck to look up at him. She stood up on her toes to kiss his filthy throat, her lips resting against his pounding pulse before she pulled back to explain, "First of all, I told you, I don't form symbiotic relationships with stars like that. Second of all, this 'Goddess of Life' is ironically barren, so you can dispel your horrific nightmares of fathering the founding families and that being my burning corpse down there."

"Thank the stars," he sighed, pulling her head back into his chest so he could rest his lips in her hair. "We're already poised to lose everything in this war. I don't think I could bear to continue if . . .." He let out another sigh, this one deeper, before saying, "At least I did manage to obtain some personal vindication on this journey. If my parents live, they'll be glad to hear what I've learned, even if no one would believe it. Of course, with this new information regarding Solheim, I may have just cast us right back into infamy."

"Have you been keeping this from me? What are you talking about?"

"Ignis Scientia was the founding member of my family, or so my mother told me in her letters. The name was given to him by Ifrit himself in the establishment of the Solheimian Empire as a gift—along with the knowledge of fire. Of course, he likely didn't know what the name meant any more than I did. I'm told the family fell out of favor because of Ifrit's betrayal, but that wasn't what happened, was it?"

"Solheim and the other Five betrayed _him_ , but if your family survived, they must have remained loyal."

"I suppose you're right," he said, nodding. "Otherwise, he likely wouldn't have participated in the divine naming ceremony over the generations."

"You _have_ been holding out on me. What's this?"

"When a couple in House Scientia bears their first child, they pray to Ifrit, who answers with the child's first name. I was the first Ignis Scientia since the founding member of my house. My mother was quite proud of that fact. It was one of the first things she told me when we began exchanging letters. Of course, he stopped communicating with anyone after that. He was likely scourged, or something equally horrible, by the Chancellor around the time the Glacian was murdered, I'd wager."

Laura turned her head against Ignis's chest, looking out toward the Rock along with him. What could Ifrit have intended by giving him a name that was so obviously special to their family history? He _was_ special on this planet, even special for his species—magically powerful, quick-witted, and Intuitive. Perhaps Ifrit thought such a gifted child needed a talisman for these troubled times. Perhaps he was marking Ignis in some way as a harbinger of change, a dawn of a new era for mankind as it had been with the first Ignis Scientia. Only time would tell.

"Hey, nerds!" they heard Noct's voice call up. "Stop analyzing the bricks up there or whatever and get down here! Found an almanac we missed yesterday. Looks like we were right about the whole Solheimian training grounds thing."

Ignis rolled his eyes as she pulled back and grinned up at him, brushing his soft, wilted bangs from his sweaty, gritty brow. "Come on. If we call the chickens, we can make it to those hot springs in time to get a bath before the sun sets. You're filthy."

" _You're_ one to talk," he muttered before she jumped down.

* * *

"Damn, Princess," Gladio breathed as she came out from behind her boulder in her swimsuit. "You look like you lost a round with a molokujata."

There was no sense hiding the nearly solid mottling of purple and green that covered almost her entire left side, as they were all going to see it and make a comment at some point during this communal bath of theirs. Sending silent, reassuring thoughts in response to Ignis's dismay at the sight of her, she stepped into the warm water, breathing in the soft curls of mineral steam and digging her toes into the coarse sand as she waded deeper in. The warm water seemed to instantly seep down to her bones so that the last two days were nearly washed away by the time she reached the flat rock in the center of the small spring, where Ignis had already set dishes out for dinner. Letting her eyes linger for a moment on the soaking wet, black t-shirt that clung to his abs and muscular chest, she came to stand in front of her table setting, amused that he, of all people, was still too shy to go shirtless like the rest of the boys.

"It's too bad it won't stick around after tonight," she replied lightly. "I could use it for pity points with you guys."

 _You think that oven-roasted trout would be good tonight?_ she asked.

Ignis furrowed his brow, frowning down at her from under the rims of his glasses. _What will you eat?_

 _I've got a few things I made back in Miriásia,_ she said, summoning the trout for the four of them before pulling out her own tofu bibimbap. _I felt like my dietary restrictions were holding you back too much._

She had nearly finished summoning the things for tea when he replied, _You don't, you know. You never have. This group could always stand to eat more vegetables._

"All right, so that crazy ass song you been singing all day—you gonna tell us now?" Gladio asked when she'd poured the hot water to steep the first mug. "What's the meaning of life?"

Laura let the water steep for about ten seconds before pouring the black liquid into the first cup. Shou puerh wasn't necessarily the best served western style, but everyone needed the additional hydration, and the flavors went well with what they were all having this evening. Starting on the second mug, she answered, "Try and be nice to people, avoid eating fat, read a good book every now and then, get some walking in, and try and live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations . . . or the number forty-two. It really depends on who you ask."

"Huh, might be better advice than you think. Woulda avoided this whole thing," he replied, sweeping a hand back in the direction of the ruins they'd just left. "Maybe the shit back in Insomnia, too." Picking up his mug, he took a quick sip of his tea before pulling back abruptly with a grimace. Lifting the mug closer to his face, he inspected the black liquid closely before leaning over the rim to take a deep sniff.

"What the hell is this stuff?"

Laura quirked her lips up into a smirk. She knew he'd be interested in this one, even if she didn't know which way his opinion would fall—most people either found it amazing or absolutely disgusting. "It's tea, babe."

"It's . . . weird," Prompto said, sticking his tongue out. "Sorry," he added sheepishly. Well, that was one down, but Prompto didn't really care all that much for tea to begin with. She was pretty sure he just drank it to humor her, because he was always sweet like that.

"It looks like coffee," Noct said under his breath as he peered into his cup. "I dunno how I feel about it."

"Did you . . . I dunno, accidentally drop a couch and some books in here? Tastes like my dad's library," Gladio said before licking the roof of his mouth awkwardly and setting his mug down. "Might wanna keep this one outta the rotation for me."

"It _tastes_ like a library?" Ignis asked animatedly, leaning forward as his expression brightened. He gestured toward Laura's mug, which had just finished steeping. "May I try some of yours?"

"Here, just take mine," Gladio said, handing his mug over the boulder that was serving as their table before digging into his fish.

"It's fermented," she said to Gladio as Ignis took a sip. "It's supposed to taste like that."

"This is _brilliant_!" Ignis ejected, and the entire table turned to look at him in surprise. "Apologies," he continued in a more subdued tone. "It's just that I feel as though I am actually sitting in the Royal Library at the long wooden tables on a hot summer afternoon, thumbing through an ancient text. I can smell it on the exhale: the wood, the leather, the old paper."

"Wow, Igs," Prompto said. "Never seen you actually like the tea Laura serves."

"Well, I've always enjoyed it, but you're correct that I do prefer coffee."

Laura lay back once they'd finished their meal, watching the sky transform as she scrubbed the kithairon shampoo from her hair and let the warmth of the water ease the ache in her side. Though her head was submerged up to her face, the muffled splashes, screams, and laughs of Gladio, Noct, and Prompto resounded in her ears as the sound carried through the water. Ignis's mind was closer to her—quiet, but industrious, and she raised her head to see him carefully inspecting one of his boots, with a wet rag in one hand and five different bottles of shoe powder laid out on the boulder in front of him.

 _Stop,_ she said, letting her feet drift back down to the sandy bottom and wading over to him. When he froze and looked up at her, his brow pulling down in concern, she nodded up to the sky. _These moments last only fifteen minutes at the most, and you're missing it._

His mind fell silent in that way she adored when his bright green eyes followed her gaze, and he parted his lips to inhale sharply as he took in the sight she'd indicated.

The orange ball of fire hung low in the sky, casting the rocks below in a dusky purple shadow, but the ground wasn't the view that had captured his attention and froze his mind in wonder. The entire expanse of sky above them was dotted with altocumulus clouds, which caught the light from the setting sun and reflected the colors back in shining gold, orange, red, purple, and blue. As the sun continued to sink behind the high rocks, she stood shoulder to shoulder next to him, the comforting scent of his soap pouring off him as they both stared, feeling small beneath the infinite canvas of color stretching over their heads.

Dropping her eyes down, she was presented with a sight that was, to her, just as wondrous—Ignis's face pointed straight up at the stars that were just beginning to come out, his mouth and eyes open wide with awe, the angle accentuating the sleek lines of his jaw and neck. The color of the setting sun reflected in the blonde highlights of his hair and those viridian eyes rimmed with thick black lashes, setting his entire face aglow. Even his skin was flushed a dusky orange in the diminishing light, and she wanted for nothing more than to reach out and pull his parted lips to hers, if only to thank him for being there to share this moment with her.

He must have caught her train of thought, for he looked down suddenly, his expression growing tender as he inclined his head to gaze into her eyes. At the feel of his mind growing warm with affection and dark with arousal, she began to step away, expressing her reciprocated feelings but reminding him that the others were merely feet away, growing quieter as they one by one noticed what the two of them had been staring at.

She made to take a step back—it was time they got going anyway, with the sun beginning to set like this. But before she could take another step back, he dropped his boot on the boulder and lunged for her, cradling her jaw in both of his soft, bare hands and leaning down to part her lips with his. He'd been drinking coffee as he worked, and the bitter taste of it flooded her mouth as he tilted her head back for better access. Shocked at his public display, after all, it wasn't as though he didn't know the others were right behind her, she didn't move beyond kissing him back as he drank her in, but gods, he tasted so _good_.

Three stunned minds had gone completely silent by the time he pulled away with the smallest of smacking sounds, his fingertips seeming to linger against her skin as they feathered down the line of her jaw before returning to his sides.

 _Thank you,_ he said simply.

 _Umm, no,_ she managed to stammer. _Thank_ _ **you**_. _Not that I mind, because you'll never catch me complaining about you kissing me anywhere, but what brought this on?_

 _To remind them why we're fighting,_ he replied with a mysterious smile, nodding to where the other three stood behind them, and given the distinct lack of any splashing, they were likely still frozen in shock. _And because I wanted to._

His cheeks were still flushed as he said this, so he was obviously experiencing some embarrassment over what he'd done, but that was just fine with her. She could let him lead in matters of public displays and still get that pink spread over those aristocratic features of his.

 _Hmm,_ she hummed in pleasure as she stepped back from him and began dismissing his shoe powders, _I approve of this change._

 _I thought you might_ , he replied with a smirk.

 _You're a cocky bastard, you know that?_

 _I've heard that it takes one to know one, love._

Laura reached back to feel for Noct's mind—there was no way Ignis would do this if it hadn't been brought up in whatever conversation they'd had last night. Noct had been difficult to read since she'd returned; his thoughts were mostly clouded over with his usual blanket of depression, shot through with the occasional sharp spear of mourning. But feeling him now, his mind was a muddled mess of pain, resignation, pride, love, and the sort of isolation that always came with the mantle of the Chosen.

"Come on you guys, we gotta head back before it gets dark," Noct said. "I don't wanna get stuck fighting yojimbos back to the haven."

"We just gonna drive around for a day or two before we call Umbra?" Prompto asked as he waded out of the water.

"Yeah," Noct said. "Thought maybe we could make it back to Caem and fish or chill on the beach. That okay with the time thing, Laura?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug. "We can call Umbra from there, no problem."

* * *

She thought it would be fun and relaxing, hanging out on the beach with this new family of hers and watching Ignis's tension ease as she pulled him off for secret kisses and adventures. But as Saracchian carried her over the rocky cliff faces and the magic of Solheim reluctantly receded from her mind like dough from a dough hook, the skin of the rest of Lucis reared up in her head—bristling, sparking, torn open in both time in space as though some sort of primitive species had just learned the art of time and interdimensional travel.

As the knots of a paradox seemed to blossom behind her eyes in the form of a headache, she gritted her teeth and managed to say, "Change of plans, guys. Looks like we've got some errands to run."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

I'd like to point out yet again that this should not be considered canon lore. I used Perona77's Pitioss Theory and mixed that in with Final Fantasy Peasant's Solheim Theory, Ardyn Theory, and Pitioss Theory. I found a number of things that wrong in their analyses that I had to change, even since my first draft, and this theory has definitely been denied by SE. So this is all pretty much an amalgam of Perona77, FFPeasant, the FFXV Discord server, and my work. From here on out though, what it means for the rest of the story, will be all my own interpretation.

I took a hell of a lot of screenshots to link into this story as well as provided links to my sources over on AO3 under the story of the same name. Check it out if you're interested!

I've seen the 3D file render of Eos, and she is indeed holding a katana. The "shackles" around her neck are most likely jewelry, but I changed them to make this story fit. I even had to do a bit of stretching with timelines to make this work. I'm sure even more will prove to be non-canon when Episode Ardyn comes out; I'm already throwing out the idea that Ardyn was imprisoned for 2000 years. However, that doesn't reduce the entertainment value of the theory at all to me. Perona and Pez all did an incredible job with this.

Interesting to note, Rose Tyler really did go to Japan with the Doctor in 1336, but as it was an event that occurred off screen, who knows what she actually did there?

It seemed no one could figure out which sons Eos had with Cephalus, so these are the three you're getting.

"Meaning of Life" from _Monty Python's The Meaning of Life_.

Easter Egg: Ignis's fear of Eos and Cephalus being Laura and Ignis was a plot I was considering for about a day before deciding it would be too easy to guess (and too sad!).


	66. Chapter 66

Four car doors slammed shut, and Prompto leaned against his with a sigh. It wasn't like he was tired at all—just bored—since he hadn't had to do anything but stand around listening to Iggy and Laura come up with wild theories about a switch-gate thingy all day and wait for Noct to come back. But leaning forward so he could catch sight of Noct over Laura, Prompto could see that Noct looked about ready to pass out.

"Where is the next tear located?" Iggy asked as he started the car.

"Um . . .," Laura trailed off, sitting up so she was between Gladio and Iggy. She pointed off toward the northeast before saying, "That way."

"' _That way?'"_ he asked in disbelief before growing quieter. "Could you perhaps be more specific?"

"If I could, don't you think I would? We're lucky I'm aware of these tears in the universe at all. It doesn't come with a fracking GPS, or whatever nav system you're using without satellites."

"I suppose you have a point," he huffed, putting the car in drive. "Very well. 'That way,' it is."

Prompto had to admit—he'd kinda missed this . . . being back on their home turf, Iggy and Laura arguing about stupid stuff without actually getting mad, getting into the kinda trouble that was just dangerous enough to be interesting, camping, and driving around. It was pretty fun being on the road with the four of them, like old times. But now it was even better, because they knew who he was now, and everything had gone completely back to normal right after he'd said it, like it'd never happened. Sure, the world was about to end if they didn't do something about it right this second, but the world was gonna end soon anyway, so what else was new? At least none of them were dying or killing people, and he got to be his real self, like he was a part of a real family.

"Good," Noct muttered. "You guys done arguing? I need some shuteye after all that."

Laura whipped her head in his direction. "Oh, no you don't. All you've told us so far is that you and a chick named Sarah helped take out 'some bad chick.' That can't be all the intel you gathered."

Lifting his shoulder in a half shrug, Noct said, "I dunno. There were these Hiso aliens. What species calls themselves 'alien,' anyway? It doesn't make sense."

"Think you'd be used to anything by now," Gladio said. "Been travelin' with an alien for months."

"These were different. Small and white and weird—even weirder than usual."

"Yeah, I know the Hiso—world builders in other universes, dead useful," Laura said with a nod. "They solicit clients in the real estate market to complete or refurbish infrastructure on abandoned planets. _Fascinating_ language, too—consists of one word and is completely tonal."

Noct sat up suddenly, his eyes going wide. "Yeah! They said something about that. A great tree or something wanted them to finish the world. There were all these old ruins."

"And did these ruins happen to be Solheimian in origin? Though the pattern on the gate was pictographic rather than orthographic in nature, the gate itself and its power source were certainly Solheimian in nature," Iggy said.

"Uh . . . yeah, I guess," Noct shrugged. "There were all those columns and red veiny stuff on the walls like Steyliff and Costlemark, that circle writing on the bricks, and the arena where the Eroder was kinda looked like Costlemark. I dunno, I was kinda too busy to stop and check out the architecture, and my usual geek squad was unavailable."

"Next time, it would behoove you to wait for the rest of us before jumping on unidentified ancient technology. But if your assessment can be relied upon, it would seem the Solheim Empire did indeed escape to that world and begin their civilization anew."

"You really think we're the ones responsible for turning on these dimension gate thingies?" Prompto asked.

"Had to have been. We hit every gods damn switch in that hellhole," Gladio said. "Solheim tech in there, Solheim tech out here."

"I just don't get how it's gonna end the world if we don't do something about it. Why can't we just let aliens hang out here? Thought you, of all people, would be into that kinda thing, Laura."

"I'd be all for it if there weren't a dangerous plague, the sun dying, and this paradox if we don't do something about it," Laura answered.

"Thought Umbra's amulet was s'posed to prevent paradoxes," Gladio said.

"It's supposed to prevent us from _creating_ paradoxes. This apparently had always happened, was supposed to happen. We'd always fixed it, we just didn't know it. Why do you think Gentiana gave us the amulet in the first place? It couldn't have just been for us to go to Pitioss then have a nice vacation from saving the world."

"That woulda been nice, actually," Noct mumbled, closing his eyes as he rested his head in the crook of his elbow.

Prompto rubbed at his temples, trying to clear the ache building underneath his skull. He really did want to understand just what the hell they were doing, but this time stuff never really made any sense to him. It was just like this thing with Cindy he was going through now—she was just so smart. All those mechanical engineering books she'd sent him were really hard to understand, and he'd always been the kinda guy who learned better when it was hands-on.

Maybe when they got back, he could hang out in Hammerhead a little, have her teach him more about working on cars. Maybe he could even make a career of it; it wasn't like Noct was gonna be able to use his skills full-time building a new government. He'd help, sure, but he couldn't be as good as Iggy or Gladio, or even Laura, at that kinda stuff.

Pulling out his phone, he opened the messenger app to text Cindy, but paused. He knew so little about mechanical energy sources compared to her. What if his idea was stupid? She'd think he was stupid by extension and would never want to speak to him again.

He decided to sit on the idea for a couple of minutes, let it marinate while he confused himself with this more pressing topic. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he said, "I don't get how letting some alien gates open around Eos is gonna cause a paradox."

"Because Ignis and I are about to meet Ardyn on the altar in Altissia. If Ardyn gets word that aliens exist, he might not believe I'm Shiva any longer and kill us outright, instead of what he did. Maybe then the map wouldn't be right enough to lead you to Pitioss, or you might not hit the right switch while you're there, meaning you don't open all the gates. Then Ardyn doesn't believe aliens exist, and we make it through Altissia. The causal nexus is broken, and the world ends," Laura answered.

"As it seems to be in danger of doing every other day," Ignis remarked casually as Laura leaned forward to point him to the left, off the dirt path and in the direction that would take them past Fort Vaullerey. "Sometimes I wonder how the world managed to get by before it was left in our capable hands."

"Well, this time, _we_ were the ones who broke the world. The skin of the universe grows thin, making you vulnerable not just to getting sucked out of this world through these gates, but invasions, too."

"Great, like we don't have enough to deal with," Noct complained.

"Which is why we must take care of it now, and keep a weather eye out for any anomalies," Iggy said.

Prompto leaned back into his seat, letting the bright sunshine beat down on his head and the wind blow his hair back as Iggy cruised through southern Cleigne into southern Duscae—apparently no longer needing directions out loud from Laura anymore. He pulled out his camera to get a couple shots of the glowing blue shards bridging the rift of Taelpar Crag, but that only reminded him about the thing he wanted to text Cindy. Pulling out his phone again, he let his thumbs hover over the buttons, at a loss for how to bring it up. He bit his lip in frustration, looking up to try and figure out if any of the others would be good for some advice. From the looks of it, Gladio was buried in a book—he'd be no help right now. Noct was already fast asleep and probably wouldn't be good for this kind of thing anyway.

He could immediately see that Laura and Iggy weren't available for this, but he took a minute to watch their expressions change as their eyes periodically met in the mirror. They'd been a lot less secretive about their telepathic thingy since Altissia, and judging by the looks on their faces now, they were deep in some kinda serious conversation with each other—either about this paradox thing or the Solheim thing. Prompto didn't see why they were so interested in the fact Solheim had set up shop on a new world at some point, but he often got the feeling there was more going on behind the scenes with those two than any of them knew.

Prompto traded his phone for his camera again when the arches and the Disc of Cauthess came into view—or, he guessed the Sundial of Cauthess, if Laura and Iggy were to be believed. He had just put his camera away and was about to resign himself to sending this stupid text no matter what when Laura turned to him, bumping her shoulder with his.

"What's got you so restless today?"

As she leaned into his side, he put his arm around her and sighed. Why couldn't talking to Cindy be as easy as it was talking to Laura? He guessed Laura didn't make him feel queasy and jittery and stupid like Cindy did. And it was really cool that Iggy never got all weird when they hung out like this together. It seemed like she'd needed human contact since she'd come back, and holding her made him feel . . . useful, helpful.

"I dunno," he sighed, shrugging a shoulder. "I had this idea for Cindy's headlights, and I wanna tell her, but . . . it's probably stupid."

"What kind of idea?"

"Well, she's tryin' to make these high-intensity discharge lamp thingies for all the cars, made from metallic salts, so they're strong enough to scare off the daemons, but she's not having much luck."

"So what did you come up with?" she asked, looking up at him with a soft smile.

"I was thinkin' . . . meteor shards as a power source—in each car. You know, like, tiny ones? Is that dumb?"

"Not at all," Iggy said suddenly. "In fact, it's rather brilliant. From what I understand of the process, there's always meteor waste left over once the shards have been trimmed down to fit the Exineris machinery that powers the plant."

"And if meteor shards can power a city, bet they'd be powerful enough to handle a headlight," Gladio added as he turned a page.

"And Holly and Cindy are best friends. Send the text to both of them," Laura said.

"Really?" he asked, grimacing. It was embarrassing enough exposing his ideas to one girl, but two at the same time?

Gladio put his book down and turned all the way around in his seat to look back at them. "Oh yeah, you get in with a girl's best friend, you're totally in."

"Here," Iggy said, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket and handing it back to Laura. "Holly's number will be in the contacts list."

After typing in the numbers Laura read out to him, Prompto let the excitement from everyone's approval override his nerves as he tapped out his text.

* * *

"So there's a hole in time and space . . . here?" Noct asked in disbelief as they pulled up to the gas pumps at the Cauthess Rest Station under the shade of stone arches hovering high over their heads.

As Prompto got out of the car and turned in a slow circle, he could see why Noct sounded so skeptical. Between the rusty warehouses; the greenish, worn-down buildings that kinda looked like hotels but seemed abandoned; and of course, that famous Lucian institution—the Crow's Nest Diner, with its chipped and faded paint and creepy ass bird sitting on the bench outside . . . everything looked completely, boringly normal.

"Nearby," she said, narrowing her eyes down the road the way they came.

"Well, you think the world can hold itself together while we get somethin' to eat?" Gladio asked.

"Oooh! Crow's Nest! Can we eat at the diner?" Prompto added, bouncing on his toes.

Iggy frowned over at Laura as he unscrewed the gas cap. "Though I'm also famished, perhaps I should make something at the camper or pull something out of our stores. The menu here is quite limited."

"Nah, don't worry about me!" Laura said, grinning. "They have my favorite here!"

"Kenny's fries!" Noct crowed, reaching up to give her an enthusiastic high five.

"Very well, then," Ignis said as he reached for the gas pump. "I happen to enjoy their salmon, so as long as you're satisfied with that as your lunch . . .."

"Wait, you're not gonna give her hell for that?" Noct asked.

"I don't see why I should. I have no objections to the occasional meal of junk food, particularly as her diet is already so heavy in vegetables."

Laura glowered at the both of them, crossing her arms and leaning into her hip as she said, "By all means, you two, continue to stand around discussing a grown woman's diet like you have any control over it."

Noct had flung a hand up to point at Iggy, his mouth opening to argue, but Gladio interrupted. "All right, we'll go inside and order for ya. Fries for the lady and salmon for Ig. Anything else?"

As Laura shook her head, Ignis said, "No, thank you Gladio. This will take but a minute."

"Gotcha. Come on, Sleepy, Spazzy," he said, cuffing Prompto around the back of his neck and pulling him toward the door.

As Prompto slid into the cushy red vinyl booth at the far end of the diner, he took a deep breath of that humid, oily air that seemed to cling to the back of his throat, reminding him of the fries he used to eat every day as a kid back in Insomnia. There was just something about a Crow's Nest—it didn't matter which one—the ads for disgusting foods that thankfully weren't on the menu, like Invincible Oats and Splatz tomato jelly; that same damn song with its weird combination of harmonica and organ playing over and over that Laura said reminded her of zydeco, whatever that was; all the worn kitchen appliances for a kitchen with only two food items on the menu; even the guy that always seemed to be sitting on one of the stools at the counter by the door.

He absolutely loved this place.

"Salmon, fries, and Jetty's all around?" Gladio asked, glancing at the menu.

"You know you're gonna get a beer," Noct teased. "Get Laura a tea, too."

"Yeah, you got it," he waved over his shoulder and sauntered toward the cook, but the cook was busy talking to the guy who had his head down at the end of the counter.

"You sure you're okay there, mister?" the cook asked.

"Yeah," the dark-haired man said, lifting his head just enough to give him a wide, toothy smile and an exaggerated wink. "One too many hypervodkas last night, if ya know what I mean."

"Well, just let me know when yer ready to order," he said before turning to Gladio. "What can I getcha?"

"You think we're gonna have time to get in some JM Five?" Prompto asked Noct, who was staring out the smudged and filmy window at Iggy and Laura.

"Probably not. We don't have a lotta time to take care of this, and we don't know when Umbra's gonna take us back to in Altissia. Can't miss our train," he said without tearing his eyes away from his view outside. In a quieter voice, he added, "It's just so . . . weird. Their lips aren't even moving."

Prompto looked out the big picture window in time to see Laura's eyes shoot up to Iggy's, a slow, flirty smile spreading over her face. After a few seconds of them staring at each other, Iggy looked away, shaking his head and laughing. Yeah, their thing was pretty . . . different, but at the same time, he only hoped he could have something like that one day, if a bit more on the normal side.

"Good to see him smile again though," Prompto said softly.

Iggy might've been managing to keep up the appearance of holding it together after the battle, but Prompto'd had his doubts about how long he was gonna be able to keep it up if Laura hadn't woken up. Gladio and Noct had been doing their part by pushing food at him, but Prompto hadn't felt comfortable bossing him around like that. Iggy hadn't really seemed to need any help or support with all the reports and stuff he was doing, not that Prompto could even begin to help much in that department anyway, so he'd done his best to keep everything clean, even if Iggy still often went behind him and did it himself.

Seemed like all any of them had been able to do was wait until he either fell apart or confided in them, and that hadn't happened until Laura left. Seeing him like this now, with his eyes bright and a grin on his face like Prompto hadn't seen in the five years he'd known him, it would almost feel like all was right with the world if it weren't for the world-ending paradox, the sun on the verge of dying, and Noct looking so lost when he thought no one was paying attention.

"Yeah," Noct replied thoughtfully. "It kind of is."

They both had to look away suddenly when Laura's eyes slid in their direction—they'd been caught, and Noct hurriedly changed the subject.

"Anyway, how've you been, after, you know . . .?"

Pitioss. Prompto had died twice since leaving Insomnia—both times in Altissia, but it'd been a whole different experience to die so many times in a single day, two days in a row. Depending on whether he'd landed like a sack of Leiden potatoes at the bottom of an abyss or been impaled on a slab of molten spikes, death was, at the same time, everything he'd feared and yet not as bad as he'd thought it would be. Sometimes it was terror clutching at his brain as the cold settled into his bones, and sometimes it was just a flash before the darkness swallowed him whole. He didn't know if the last couple of days had made him more or less afraid of heights; he'd have to see when the time came, but he definitely didn't fear death the same way anymore.

"Yeah, it's alllll good," Prompto chuckled, giving him a little punch on the shoulder. Noct had enough stuff to worry about without him getting sad about everything Prompto had been through on this trip. Prompto'd probably be dead if Noct hadn't invited him to the wedding, so it wasn't like he was ungrateful or regretful for the shit he'd been through. And Noct was his best friend in the entire world, the only guy who'd liked him enough to hang out with him. Of course Prompto was gonna do whatever he could to repay that kinda loyalty and keep him—keep all of them—in his life.

"Grub's gonna be here in a coupla minutes," Gladio grunted as he slid in the opposite side of the booth, his weight squeezing the air out of the puffy cushions with a weary-sounding sigh.

"So how many gates do we have to do?" Noct asked, attempting to stifle a yawn. "We have to be heading back by tomorrow, so I hope it's not a lot."

"Laura said just the one left for now, but she said there might be more in the future."

Prompto frowned across the table at him. Had he fallen asleep in the car at some point? He didn't remember her saying that, so he must've dozed off at some point. "You mean, in the real future, or if we return to the past again?"

"Fuck, I dunno," he said, waving his hands in the air. "What'd she say about it? Wibbly-wobbly or whatever, right?"

"I could eat a horse!" the man at the counter laughed animatedly, his jovial tone inserting itself into the conversation, and Gladio's head whipped around at his words, his lips pulling down into an intimidating frown.

"What?!" Gladio barked. "Fuck, we got a problem."

Noct slid out of their side of the booth as Gladio scrambled out of his. "What is it?" Noct asked, his hands tensing at his sides as he prepared to summon a weapon.

"Unless that guy's been reading Baggins, looks like we got a visitor."

Prompto had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but the guy at the counter sure seemed to. His bright blue eyes went wide as he caught sight of Gladio's hulking form advancing on him and stood, nearly tripping over his combat boots as he backed away.

Flashing them a smarmy, toothy, pearly-white smile, the man said, "Now, hold on gentlemen, I don't wanna shoot any of you, _especially_ you handsome fellas. They must be puttin' something in the water here, I tell ya. Whaddya say we head over to that camper over there and settle this like men, eh?"

Was he suggesting what Prompto thought he was suggesting? It was definitely a new tactic for getting out of trouble—one Prompto didn't think he'd ever be able to pull off, but any kind of strategy was really unnecessary. It wasn't like they were gonna hurt him for just sitting at the counter or anything; they just wanted some answers, but still, he couldn't blame the guy for taking a few more steps backwards as they drew closer. It was three against one in his eyes . . . well, five against one as Laura and Iggy appeared in the front doorway, but everyone stopped moving when they heard Laura gasp.

"Jack. Does the Agency really not have any other field operatives?"

The man, Jack, turned that suave smile in her direction as he backed up against the door to the toilets, running his hands through his short, black hair. Prompto thought he looked kinda like one of those guys who played action heroes in movies. "Hello, gorgeous, but if you know who I am, then you should probably know it's not safe to say anything, cause I don't know you yet."

Laura's eyes tightened as they stared at each other, her expression turning old and sad. While the four of them remained still and silent, letting Laura take the lead, Prompto noticed that _everyone_ in the diner had gone silent, probably hoping this standoff wouldn't end with weapons drawn and blood shed. As he looked around the dingy room, Prompto noticed that the diners in the three other booths had all turned, poking their heads over the high seats to peer at them nervously, and the noxious fumes of burning fish reached his nostrils as he noticed the cook standing frozen over the griddle, a spatula in hand.

"Activate protocol Alpha-Bravo-Tango 472 Delta," she said quietly. "We've got this under control."

"Now hold on," Jack said, pulling himself straight and stepping forward to glare down at her. At his advance, Ignis took a step forward, placing himself between the man and Laura, widening his stance and spreading his fingers like he was preparing for a fight.

"You'll need to be holding on for dear life if you so much as take another step toward her," Iggy hissed, his eyes transforming to emerald flame, but Prompto noticed that they flicked back in Laura's direction for the briefest moment before settling back on Jack.

"Easy there, handsome," he said, raising his hands in surrender and tilting his head to the side to look around Iggy. "I got orders from top brass, and honey, you might know an alias and a code, but that's not gonna make me back down from a Priority Seven. You're gonna need more than that to convince me."

Laura carefully stepped around Iggy's tense shoulder, looking up searchingly at the man she called Jack. "Javic Piotr Thane," she said in a slow, somber tone, and the man's eyes went wide, his mouth dropping open a little as he took in a short breath.

"Who the hell are you to me?" he demanded softly.

"You told me once about that day in Boeshane, when you lost your brother Gray. You trusted me enough to say all that then; trust me now. Your presence here is only contributing to the Priority Seven. You need to go."

"I—" he began, but instead of finishing, he cupped her jaw in both his hands and leaned down like he was gonna kiss her.

"Sorry, babe," she laughed, ducking out from beneath his hands as Iggy took another step forward, glaring darkly at the stranger. "Door shut on that opportunity a looong time ago. And you _have_ to go." When she jerked her head at the toilet door behind him, he nodded gravely, giving the rest of them a stiff-backed salute before turning on his heel, opening the door, and closing it behind him with a soft click.

Prompto let out a breath, but they all continued to watch the door carefully. Once the mysterious blue flash of light faded from the crack underneath the door, Prompto let out a breath and asked, "So, you knew that guy pretty well? Didn't think you'd ever been in this universe."

"I haven't," she said in a hushed tone as she gestured them back to their table. It was only once she'd taken her seat on the end of the booth across from Iggy that she continued, "I've known several parallel versions of him. Jack Harkness, James Harper . . . the man's gone through so many names, he barely remembers his own anymore. He's a field agent for the Time Agency in this universe, likely sent here to investigate and repair the potential paradox, but his presence would only make things worse. Lucky for me, codes for the Time Agency tend to be the same or similar in every universe. That order should clear out any other agents lurking around."

"And you guys were . . . close? Whatever version of him you hung out with, this one sure seemed um . . . interested," Prompto said, glancing nervously at Iggy, who was busy watching the cook at the counter bring out their salmon with a sharp eye, probably making sure they hadn't gotten the burned one.

"Oh, no!" she laughed, leaning back as the cook placed a steaming plate of fries in front of her. "Thanks, Karl. He woulda been like that with literally anyone in this building, includin' Karl here."

"Asked me what time I was gettin' off. Gotta say, that's a first. Everything okay there, Laura?" Karl asked, placing the salmon and fry plates in front of Gladio, Prompto, and Noct before turning back to the counter to get Iggy's salmon.

"Everything's good. Just a misunderstandin' between ol' friends. 'E won't be comin' back, I think. But best give Ignis a ring if ya see 'im again, yeah?"

"Will do. Been gettin' some strange folk about. Little lady in a cat costume came in just this mornin' lookin' for some help with somethin' over by the old fort. Told her I'd send along the first hunters, but none've blown through here yet today. Y'all don't think that's somethin' you can handle, do ya?"

"Actually, we're kinda on a tight sch . . .," Noct began, but Laura interrupted him.

"Yeah, we'll take care of it. Where is she?"

"Said she'd be gettin' ready in the warehouse next door. Was plannin' to head out first thing tomorrow."

"Tomorrow. Why do we have to cut these things so damned close?" Laura muttered under her breath as she stared down at her plate. Her expression transformed into a wide, glittering smile as she turned her attention back up to Karl. "No problem, thanks."

"You think this's got somethin' to do with the tear?" Gladio asked as they unrolled their silverware.

Iggy reached out to Laura's plate, snagging a couple of her fries before she could playfully swat at his hand. Iggy sent her a victorious smirk, and she stuck her tongue out at him like a kid before answering, "Cat woman has some business at the base where I _think_ the source of the disturbance is probably coming from? Yeah, pretty sure it's related. We just need to make sure the situation's contained until the battle begins tomorrow so Ardyn doesn't get word before then."

Prompto was distracted from what sounded like an interrogation from Iggy on the possible sources of disturbance with the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. Pulling it out, his heart began to beat faster at the sight of Cindy's name and the beginning of her response. His meal completely forgotten, Prompto opened the text with shaking fingers as his heart began to pound uncomfortably in his throat.

 _That's actually a really good idea! Heard Lady Lunafreya's speech on the radio today and thought about you boys. Good luck with it tomorrow, and come home safe! We'll keep you updated on the shards if we learn anything. Thanks!_


	67. Chapter 67

**Author's Note:**

NSFW this chapter

* * *

Gladio opened his mouth wide, lifted his hands high above his head, and let out a—frankly—irritating high-pitched whine of a yawn as he dragged his nails over his abdomen. Ignis supposed it was a small mercy that his mouth hadn't been full of oats as he'd done it, but that relief didn't prevent him from shooting a sharp glare across the breakfast table.

"You think my big, fat buddy's meeting us there, too?" Prompto asked as he drummed his spoon irritatingly against the table.

Fortunately, the Prince was still too comatose at this hour to grate on his nerves.

 _You're in a particularly bad mood this morning,_ Laura said affectionately as she placed a second cup of coffee down in front of him, and even that stirring of amusement in her voice rubbed him the wrong way. The phantom sensation of lips brushing across his cheek made him turn his head in her direction as she sat in the flimsy plastic chair next to him. Perhaps she was right, and his testiness at her was only serving to further prove her point.

"I very much doubt it," Ignis replied calmly as he removed his glasses, took out his handkerchief, and rubbed the glass clean. "It's a remarkable feat that that bird has made it as far as it has in its condition."

Adjusting the frames back on his face so that they sat on the bridge of his nose just so, he closed his eyes and imagined running his lips lightly over Laura's, sending her his gratitude for the second dose of caffeine. He obviously seemed to need it more than was customary this morning, as even with her assistance, he'd slept somewhat poorly these past two nights.

He wasn't jealous. Truly, he wasn't. No matter how many handsome rakes and rogues laid their hands on his wife, she was all his—mind, body, and spirit, just as he was hers. But it seemed that since her return from the dead and their reemergence in the real world, the fates themselves were poised to take her away from him again—the threat of the Chancellor looming over them, her injury in Pitioss, the horrifying notion that she'd been long dead and buried in Ravatogh, the possibility that a gate might open to take her to the universe for which she'd been searching these last seven thousand years, and that was to say nothing of this most recent blast from the past—even if this Jack Harkness had never known Rose Tyler.

It was as though the gods were already concocting vicious, teasing ways to tear them apart, unsatisfied to wait until Noct summoned them to attack her outright. That almost prescient notion he'd once had—that marrying Rose had been the one thing he'd done in his life directly against the gods' will—hadn't been so far off the mark, after all. He would, of course, never advise Noct not to summon them because of their personal issues, and he hadn't even informed the Prince of the possibility so as not to exert undue influence on his decisions. If Noct decided that they needed the gods at some point in their daily trials, then they would deal with the consequences as they came.

If they came at all. If this wasn't some sort of fanciful fear cooked up from speculation on a two-millennia-year-old story. It was possible, after all, that the gods may have repented for their prejudice against mixed relationships at witnessing the destruction they caused.

 _Stop worrying, love,_ Laura reminded him. _You'll only wear yourself out, and for what?_ Her mental voice grew dark as she said, _Let them try and come for us, I dare them._

The truth was, though this situation was so very similar to their vague foreknowledge of the events on the altar, he was different now. He would keep his wits about him this time, not allow his fear to lure him into a trap. They were different as well, stronger. He would defy the gods right beside her—for her life and for Noct's—and there was nothing that could stop them.

 _Indeed, yes. Forgive me for doubting, though our potential foes are quite formidable,_ he said, rising to take the dishes, but she stood and held a hand out to stop him.

"I can get the dishes. You boys still need to do all your fancy grooming and get dressed before you activate the glamour prisms."

"I don't see why we have to get dressed at all if we're wearing these disguises Y'jhimei gave us," Noct mumbled, pulling out the opal crystalline pyramid and examining it with bleary eyes.

"Because it only projects the image of the clothes onto your current ones," Laura replied, her voice growing louder as she stepped up into the camper and dumped the breakfast dishes into the sink.

"You wanna run around in your birthday suit all day today, that's on you. Just don't deactivate it, whatever you do. No one needs to see your . . . puny business," Gladio added as Ignis stood to initiate their morning shower routine. The one perk of being the retinue's chef was that he had always been allowed first rights to the showers in order to get to the dishes while the others readied themselves. Of course, he saw no reason to break the habit now simply because Rose had taken over the task this morning, as it would allow him to spend a little private time with her in a more caffeinated state.

"She never did really explain why she thought we needed a disguise," he heard Prompto say as he brushed past Rose, pretending there wasn't quite enough room in the cramped camper to do so without needing to grasp her hips and graze his own against her backside.

 _Be careful pulling things like that just before getting in the shower. You never know what might start pulling on you once you're in there,_ she said, pushing back against him before he stepped away.

 _No time, I'm afraid. Even with you and Gladio taking showers last night, there's still barely enough hot water for the three of us._

As Ignis stepped into the cubicle and let the lukewarm spray on his skin combine with the caffeine making its way through his bloodstream, clearing the fog of sleep and his irritation, he reviewed the plan for infiltrating the abandoned base that morning. They were all slightly less than impressed at Y'jhimei's awe and fear at the prospect of a divine summoning, but since these so-called Ixali beastmen had been nowhere in sight yesterday as the group toiled to keep imperial dropships away from the area and ignorant to the goings on within the base's walls, they were forced to return today to take care of the matter, along with their own task of closing an interdimensional gate.

Once he'd stepped out of the shower and towel dried his hair enough to put on his Crownsguard uniform, Ignis knocked on the window, signaling Noct's turn to bathe, before heading to the bunk area to blow his hair dry. As he sat down on his and Rose's bunk and plugged in the hairdryer, however, he hesitated. Perhaps he should see what this costume looked like before he decided on his usual hairstyle. There was no telling what a Miqo'te woman of Y'jhimei's temperament would find appropriate for a man of his stature, complexion, and style, after all. Summoning the prism she'd given him yesterday, Ignis pressed down on the tip of the pyramid and watched in interest as his daily attire transformed his silk button-down to a three-quarter-sleeved white linen tunic under a black leather jerkin, of sorts, with an asymmetrical line, white leather stitching details, and far too many belts as to be practical. The outfit's impracticality for the battlefield only became more apparent as his eyes traveled down to the white nubuck leather boots that nearly reached the seam of his thighs. With any luck, the illusion of this apparel would also extend to getting it soiled, as he couldn't imagine having to clean the white, fuzzy leather of dirt and blood at the end of the day.

Still, it wasn't what he would consider unfashionable; Rose might actually enjoy the novelty of seeing him done up in something different here in the real world. She had, after all, nearly convulsed when he'd managed to dress himself in a slim-fitting silk waistcoat and white linen dress shirt casually unbuttoned at the collar the last time he done some composing at Therinal. He decided to see if he could garner the same reaction by leaving his hair down today—lending an air of sprezzatura to his look that he hadn't quite been able to achieve in his younger years when he'd left it soft and neatly combed.

When he was satisfied with his appearance, he slid his glasses on and stood to find Laura, whose mind was prickling in irritation and amusement somewhere outside, but his distraction nearly caused him to smack face first into the bathroom door when Noct flung it open in a billowing cloud of humid air.

"Oh, hey, Specs," Noct began, but froze on taking in his appearance. "Oh . . .," he trailed off, his eyes traveling from the toes of his boots all the way up to his carefully disheveled hair. "Wonder what kinda costume she gave me."

"Only one way to find out. We can only hope there weren't any skeletons lurking in her closet," he replied with a slight quirk of a smile before maneuvering past the door and Prompto, who had appeared for his turn to shower.

"Oh," Prompto said, looking him up and down. "Yours isn't so bad. Gladio's kinda had me worried. And Laura's . . . well, _you'll_ probably like it."

Y'jhimei had mentioned Laura's coloring would be perfect for a 'Keeper of the Moon' when she'd given her the prism, but of course none of them had known what that had meant at the time. He found out immediately as he froze on the rickety steps to the camper, completely disregarding for the moment Gladio's meaty frame stuffed into what appeared to be a black leather corset. He wouldn't have even registered Gladio's presence at all if it weren't for the fact that Laura was bending over to assist with adjusting the buckles of his . . . calf vents, her long, blue-black . . . tail twitching in agitation.

"You would think an illusionary belt buckle would be less stiff," she growled, tugging at the top-most buckle on Gladio's left calf.

He couldn't say he'd truly noticed just how much skin Y'jhimei's costume had revealed until allowing his eyes to roam over the expanses of porcelain of the back of his wife's thighs. That slight hint of bluish hue of her true form had returned, glowing subtly in the light of the rising sun and reminding him vividly of the last time he'd seen her Lliamérian body in a similar light. Swallowing the urge to step up behind her and graze his fingertips over that band of creamy flesh between her thigh-high stockings and entirely too-short red skirt, his mind raced through their itinerary today, franticly searching for a gap when they might find some time alone together.

Suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, he tugged at the leather band of the black choker that wrapped twice around his neck—and had apparently been defaulted to be knotted too tight.

"Enjoyin' the view there, Ig?" Gladio smirked, twisting to get a better look at Laura bent over the back of his leg, and Ignis's eyes snapped up, his face flushing at being caught. "Gotta say I questioned your taste at first, but I'm startin' to see the appeal."

With a scoff of mock disgust, Laura slammed the heel of her palm into the back of Gladio's knee, making him stumble forward in an effort to catch his balance as the joint gave out underneath him. As she stood to her full height, the long, black ears on the top of her head flicking back, she said sharply, "Serves you right!" She softened a little, the cloud of amusement growing in their connection as she added, "Though I do wonder sometimes if his appetite doesn't stray too far toward the exotic."

"What can I say?" Ignis replied as he stepped up beside her and surreptitiously dragged the tips of his fingers down her bare spine, making her shiver. Though he'd always worn gloves to keep his hands from developing rough callouses while working so often with blades out here in the wild, he had to say he rather preferred these 'Elezen' gloves that left his fingertips bare to touch her. "I've always had rather eclectic tastes. Besides, circumstances in my life have led to a distinct lack of domestic offerings."

For the first time since their conversation began, Laura looked up at him—her pupils overly large in her lapis eyes and grey whisker-like markings streaking across her cheeks and down her forehead, highlighting the return of the more feline angle of her features. Her attention wandered from his neck up to his hair, and he caught her fleeting thought of, _By the gods, you're beautiful,_ before her expression grew melancholy.

"Do you ever find you regret not truly experiencing the cuisine of your homeland?"

It seemed they had forgotten Gladio's presence as their conversation progressed, and she regretted speaking the question the moment it had left her lips, for now it would look odd if he didn't also answer aloud. The odds that Gladio understood every nuance of this conversation as he stood right there in front of them looking thoroughly entertained were rather high; after all, he was no simpleton. But Ignis was willing to take the risk of having such a private conversation with an audience under this veil of wordplay if it meant that Rose didn't suffer a moment of doubt. Besides, it was probably no secret anyway that she'd been his first . . . and his last.

"Not even for a moment," he replied immediately. "It would seem my palate is well-suited to foreign cuisine."

Her answering radiant smile was well-worth Gladio's muttered "You guys are too cute," and as it grew wider, his attention snapped to the sharp canines in the corners of her mouth. Now. He needed her alone now—if only for a moment. But her hands were already reaching for his neck, her fingers plucking at the knot of his choker as he swallowed.

 _Your face is turning purple, love. This is too tight._ "I must say I'm glad to see you boys in something that's not covered in skulls, for once," she added aloud.

"They are rather morbid, aren't they? But they and the color black are symbols of House Lucis Caelum and the Crownsguard that we wear with pride."

"It'll never cease to amaze me that boys as kind as you walk around covered in the bones of dead human heads," Laura said as she finished re-tying his choker, letting her hands skim down his chest briefly before stepping away.

"Gotta have some way to make these guys look scary," Noct called out from the camper door, and Ignis turned to see him still dressed in his usual fatigues. "But maybe you guys can change it someday. Not like anyone remembers why we have those as symbols anyway."

Ignis couldn't decide whether to protest Noct's thoughtless disregard for tradition or question his choice in attire first, but Gladio chose to speak before he could get a word in. "Long as we don't let Iggy do the choosing. Don't wanna be walkin' around in lavender leather pants or some shit for the rest of my life."

"Says the man currently wearing a contoured leather corset," Ignis replied coolly. He smirked in mischief before adding, "Were your natural attributes really that lacking that Y'jhimei found it necessary to include sculpted abdominals in your accoutrement?"

"Naw," he laughed, rubbing at his stomach. "She knew I needed the extra space to fit 'em in there."

"And did his Highness find his costume so unsatisfactory that he refused to be seen in it? It can't be _that_ bad."

"I'll put it on before we get there," Noct said rubbing at the back of his neck. "We're only doing it so the imperials don't recognize us, right?"

"I believe that was Y'jhimei's intention, though I doubt they can be fooled by such an elementary tactic," he replied, but he was beginning to grow impatient at this idle chatter. It would only be a matter of ten minutes or so before Prompto was ready, at which point they would be on their way to the base. Turning to Laura, he said, "Would you mind terribly accompanying me for a brief trip behind the diner? There's a magnificent view of the arches and the Disc, and I'd like to test out our sundial hypothesis as the sun rises."

 _You sly dog, you,_ she said before answering, "Yes, that's a very good idea. Just let me get rid of this silly bag and book first. Not exactly ideal for combat." She quickly unhooked the strap holding the heavy tome and bag to her hip and released the items, where they disappeared into nonexistence on being separated from the illusion of her cropped-off top.

"Just don't take too long with your science experiment. We're making tracks as soon as Prompto's ready," Noct called out to their retreating backs.

"Ignis," she breathed as he led her between the gas tanks and the diner, grabbing her hand and pulling her along once they were sufficiently hidden from view. "I have some serious plans for you in that outfit as soon as this is over."

"As do I in yours," he managed to mutter before dipping behind the corner of the building, swinging her around to him, and catching the backs of her thighs as she leapt up onto his waist, her knees digging into his hips and the metal buckle at his side. "Those pointed ears of yours have _certainly_ piqued my interest."

"You kept your hair down today," she panted into his ear before leaving a wet trail of breathy kisses down his jaw. Her tail thrashed from side to side in agitation, thwacking against his forearms as she added, "You know what that does to me."

"Indeed, I confess I had you in mind when I made the choice," he groaned indecorously, raising his eyes to the stone arches towering above them. Though he was making a sincere attempt to control himself, he could feel his trousers growing tighter as he lengthened and swelled against her warmth. There was something deliciously satisfying about the element of danger as she dragged those deadly teeth of hers across the sensitive skin of his neck—knowing that she could, on a mere whim, tear his throat out as easily as biting into butter. That was what they were for, after all, evolutionarily speaking. Despite knowing for certain that she would always be gentle, he could feel his pulse pounding that much harder against those sharp points as she nipped carefully at the leather straps before languidly drawing her hot tongue across the knot his choker was framing.

But he'd had quite enough of this decadent torture; he'd brought her back here to touch _her_. Silently letting her know that he was about to cease supporting her with his hands, he slid his fingertips down the backs of her thighs to the bows of her stockings before pulling away to find her bare ribs. A violent shudder ran through her as he traced her curves with the very tips of his fingers and stifled her moan by forcing her mouth open with his tongue.

 _Damnit,_ she cursed as he grasped at her hips and ground her down on him. _I love it when you take what you want from me. But we're only putting us both in a state we're going to regret here in a couple of minutes._

 _For the moment, I cannot find it in myself to care. You taste too delectable this morning._

And by the gods, he wanted to continue devouring her right here behind this diner as though he were some sort of uncivilized savage, but he could feel her alerting him to Prompto's emergence from the camper. With three last desperate kisses, he allowed her to loosen her grip on his waist and slide down and away from his heavy erection, though not without considerable regret.

"How far gone are you?" she asked, placing her hands on his heaving chest and searching his tense expression. "I can take care of you if you think you can be quick enough."

"Bloody hell," he exhaled, closing his eyes in a failed attempt to block out the image. "Comments like that aren't exactly helping me simmer down. I can wait."

"If you're certain," she replied with a crooked grin.

Tugging at the long side of his jerkin so that it covered his condition, he followed after her, trying not to let his eyes linger on the sassy swish of her tail as she walked. She took several more strides before he thought to ask, "How real are those ears and tail of yours? They must be connected to your central nervous system to have motor control over them."

"They're less complex than that. I don't get any sensation from them; no auditory input from the ears, either, but they seem to respond automatically to my mood, and I can control them if I think hard enough at them." At the sight of the other three loitering near the Regalia, she sped up, her gait shifting into a playful skip as she approached and nearly bowled over Prompto.

"Prompto, you look great!"

"Yeah? You think so?" he said dubiously as he fiddled with the laces on his sleeve. "I dunno about this whole sleeve thing. I worked hard for these guns, ya know? Gotta show 'em off!"

"You look amazing, covered guns and all," she said, running her fingers over the high leather collar of his jerkin. "Now all we need is for Noct to get on board with his costume. Come on! It can't be that bad!"

"I don't see why I just can't wait until we get to the base," he said grumpily as he opened the back door of the Regalia.

"Just activate the damn costume," Gladio said. "Bigger deal you make of it, the more shit you're gonna get when you finally put it on."

"Fine," he shot back, pulling out his prism.

The moment Noct had pressed the tip and transformed, Ignis had to turn his head and cover his mouth in an attempt to stifle his derisive snort at the sight of his friend. There was something smacking of poetic justice in Noct's costume, as he'd been the most . . . undiplomatic of all of them regarding Y'jhimei's alien appearance yesterday, demanding to know 'what was up with those ears and that tail.'

"Dude, you're a kitty cat!" Prompto laughed, pointing at Noct's black ears.

"So is Laura!" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger back at her.

Gladio managed to stop giggling long enough to say, "Yeah, but Laura makes it look hot. You look like someone's grumpy housecat."

"Well, now that the cat's out of the bag, shall we get going? I believe we've reached the tail end of this conversation," Ignis said innocently, but Noct rounded on him.

"Don't you start!"

"I'm all ears," he grinned.

"I mean it!"

"What happened to our usual game of cat and mouse? Cat got your tongue, or do you need a cat nap before we leave? I know you can be practically catatonic without one, and what a catastrophe that would be for our mission."

"Ignis!" Noct whined, and Ignis decided to relent before Noct did something childish.

"Oh, very well," he huffed. Despite the Prince's indignation, the diversion _had_ been rather effective in taking care of his issue. Still, he thought it wise to tug at the longer flap of his jerkin as he settled into the front seat of the car, just in case.

* * *

"Whaddya think all these frogs are doing back there?" Prompto asked, turning a curious eye back the way they came as they sneaked toward where Y'jhimei indicated a statue of great interest was located.

While Ignis wouldn't normally condone a diverting sidequest in the middle of such an important operation, he could taste the shadow of the Power of Eos wafting on the breeze from the statue's direction, and checking through Laura's longer-ranged senses, he could feel the concentration of that golden energy pooling in the center of the courtyard. Even Y'jhimei's assessment, less familiar with her abilities though he was, indicated that some aetherial power of the wind resided in the stone. This wasn't something they could afford to miss.

"I don't know, but this is definitely my favorite base so far," Laura said, smiling down at the brown and black tabby that was trotting happily beside her. The animal seemed to realize that Laura was talking about it and raised its tail high in the air, the crook at the end seeming to quiver at her words. "I only wish we could take Nelson with us when we go."

"You did _not_ already name that cat," Ignis said incredulously, glaring down at the creature. "And you know we can't take him with us."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snorted. "He told me his name was Nelson."

"First, the cat in Galdin that somehow followed us to Caem—"

"Frederick."

"And now this one. I must insist you stop taking in strays."

"I took in the four of you, didn't I? Face it, you'd fail issuing any kind of ultimatum."

"Well, there's more than one way to skin a cat," he threatened darkly, smirking over at her. He paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head in mock consideration, "In fact, I believe I may have just come up with a new recipe."

Laura retaliated by glaring back up at him, the image of him lying on the ground with her teeth at his throat swimming into existence in front of his eyes. "You wouldn't dare!"

 _I don't believe such images are quite the threat you mean them to be, love,_ he teased, rolling them over in his mind and pinning her wrists above her head before devouring her mouth. A shudder ran through him before he stepped back from the image. They needed to concentrate.

"Shhh!" Y'jhimei hushed them, a finger over her lips as she stopped in front of the inner gate. "The Ixali beastmen are here on the base today, and they're getting ready to perform the divine summoning."

"So this is just like forging a covenant. Who're they summoning, anyway?" Noct asked in a low voice. "One of the Six?"

"They're using astral shards for their ritual to call forth Garuda, Lady of the Vortex—chosen primal of the Ixal!"

 _Meteor shards, I'd wager,_ Ignis said. _Perhaps that black substance from the Great Beyond contains some power to summon the divine. But beyond preventing the Chancellor from learning of and daemonizing this entity, I don't understand why she believes it imperative that we stop it._

 _One way to find out._ "And what would happen if this Garuda were to be summoned?" Laura asked.

"Well, the gods manifest themselves by drawing energy from the land . . . and this particular god is supposed to be _really_ vicious!" Y'jhimei replied, her ears flicking back as her eyes widened in fear.

"So we gotta stop 'em before they can summon her," Gladio finished, stepping forward to assist Y'jhimei with the door.

"Oh, thank you!" she gushed, her lips pulling back into a bright, toothy smile. "You adventurers are the best!"

As the gate slid open, creaking and groaning on its rusty mechanisms, Y'jhimei let out a squeak of a gasp as five black spheres, roughly a yard in diameter, floated in their direction, sending bolt after bolt of red laser fire in their direction. Ignis could immediately see by her reaction that she'd be of no help combat-wise, and Noct must have sensed the same, for he placed himself in front of her and summoned his ultima blade, brandishing it toward the enemy.

"I'll distract 'em, you guys take 'em out," Gladio called out, summoning Laura's broadsword and running along the perimeter of the courtyard.

There were four spheres, and with Gladio playing the role of distractor, that left one for each of them. Deducing that daggers would be best for such an enemy, he leapt to the farthest sphere and summoned his Therinal blades. He'd never seen such technology in use here in Lucis, but even taking into account the invasion of technology from a new universe, the nature of the enemy appeared imperial by design. Further analysis suggested that the seam around the middle and the eye were their weakest points, and with that conclusion reached, he shut his mind off and began his work.

"Piece of cake, baby!" Prompto laughed as his circular saw plus began biting into the metal shell of his sphere with an earsplitting whine.

Noct tossed a fire spell in the air so that it hovered over his sphere for a moment, allowing him time to warp backwards in a thunderous whoosh before the flask exploded in a flash of flame.

"Excellent, Noct!" Ignis crowed.

"Hey, Prompto, why don't ya show off your trigger-happy technique?" Noct called out.

"You got it!"

Just as Laura thrust her falchion into her sphere's eye and followed it up with a burst of blue lightning, Ignis heard Y'jhimei's high voice over the din, "Let me help!"

The necklace Laura had given Noct was designed to administer potions only when they were in danger, so Ignis hadn't expected to find any relief from the mild irritation of the minor scrape he'd received from Noct's sphere while he'd been distracted with his own. When he noticed from the corner of his eye the bloody scrape receding back into clear skin as he yanked his blade out of the mechanisms of his sphere, he shot a look to Laura, who shook her head and said, _Y'jhimei_.

"I just so happen to know a little bit of arcana. Leave the healing to me!" Y'jhimei said.

"Hey Noct, how come everybody but you can do that?" Prompto asked.

 _Was she able to heal you as well?_ Ignis asked as he swiped his dagger through the center line of the ball, cleaving it in two before it dropped to the concrete with a clunk of metal on stone and exploded in a rather unexpected blast of heat and fire.

"How the hell should I know?" Noct shot back as Ignis slid to his side, flinging an arm out to protect him from the enemy's advance and re-summoning his blades. "Just focus on the task at hand!"

 _Yes. It seems I have no compatibility issues with her universe's energy._

Prompto's sphere exploded only seconds after Noct's, at which point, Gladio hollered, "We all good?"

"Better than good," Prompto responded cheerfully.

Ignis approached Y'jhimei, eyeing the book strapped to her hip with newfound interest. He had, as of yet, been unable to completely heal Rose using his energy and was curious to learn if her power was something he was capable of wielding.

"Tell me. What sort of magic were you using?"

"Just a simple curative spell," she said with a shrug as though that explained everything. "I'm only a novice."

"No way! You're outta this world," Prompto enthused. "Literally!"

 _It doesn't matter,_ Laura said. _No matter what sort of magic you use, you'll still always rely on me or Noct for your connection to the Crystal, and the Crystal's energy is what's causing the issue._

Ignis sighed as he turned and followed Noct toward the twisted mass of stone wings fenced off in the back of the courtyard, surrounded by unfamiliar measuring equipment of some sort. They seemed to always hit this brick wall when it came to his progression in the magical arts—his limitations.

 _Ignis, it's been months since we started. Who knows what you'll be able to accomplish with years of practice? What would you have been able to sense from this statue when you'd left Insomnia?_

 _Not a blessed thing,_ he admitted as he turned a shrewd eye to the figure, opening his senses. It was almost as though a Messenger were standing in front of him—that golden power he'd become so familiar with, the immortality in its flavor. It was no new concept on Eos that the spirits of supernatural entities could sometimes be stored in stone effigies—the Old Wall being the most obvious, though slightly different, example. Could this be one of the host of twenty-four? Something stirred in Ignis's memory from his rather extensive studies of Messenger lore, the only aspect of religion he'd thoroughly researched for selfish purposes—a dusty tome buried at the back of one the bookshelves in an unused room in the Citadel . . . more for decoration than for reference. He couldn't be sure of the source's veracity at the time he'd read it, but the evidence in front of him seemed to suggest that it had been correct.

Given the statue's shape . . . "This isn't simply any statue. It's an artistic interpretation of the emissary of the winds—one of the Messengers," he added at the end for Gladio, Prompto, and Noct's benefit.

"A friend of Gentiana's?" Prompto asked.

Noct turned to face Prompto, placing his hands on his hips and saying, "Umm, she never said anything about 'em."

"Yeah, because she's usually always down for giving us the haps on what goes on. Gossip queen, that one," Laura said acerbically, rolling her eyes.

"Her name has been lost to the ages," Ignis continued, "No one's sure it ever existed at all." Glancing over at Laura, he added, _If there was, in fact, once a Messenger of the Winds, does that imply that there was once a wind Astral? A . . . Zephyrnian, I suppose?_

"The Empire seems pretty sure," Prompto said as he pointed to the machinery. "I mean, check out all this equipment. They're doing some serious research!"

 _They hid the existence of one goddess from humanity. Why not another? Whether he or she died or by some other means, I imagine they wouldn't want mortals knowing the circumstances behind any of their demises._

"While these things usually come back to bite us in the ass, I gotta say for now, we got more important business on our hands," Gladio said.

"Indeed," Ignis agreed. "The Ixal. Considering the way those sentries attacked earlier, I'd say the beastmen have begun using the base as their own."

"Then I say we let sleeping statues lie and kick some beastmen balls!" Prompto cheered.

"Uhh . . . all right," Y'jhimei said reluctantly as Laura put a hand on her shoulder to lead her away.

"Don't worry. We're going to look into it the second we get some free time," she said.

After an hour of circuitous meandering up lookout towers, over fences, past a most baffling Kenny Crow mascot, and around shipping containers, Ignis was growing ever more grateful for his layers of linen and leather as the wind picked up and the chill in the air lingered on his bare fingertips. Ignis knew Rose would be fine with the temperature, but he eyed the skin of Y'jhimei's bare arms, searching for evidence that she might need a coat.

 _You're so thoughtful,_ Laura said affectionately. _You could let her know how thoughtful you are and ask her outright, you know._

He was about to do just that when a flash of movement caught his eye—another sentry. "Watch out, Y'jhimei," he cautioned, moving to cover her as the searing heat of a sustained laser burned its way across his thigh. He managed to maneuver over the next two lasers as their guest ducked for cover, but they needed to take this spinning ball of destruction out if they were to withstand the oncoming wave of spheres Ignis could see approaching. "Noct! Take that contraption out first!" he shouted, pointing to the sphere shooting spokes of deadly laser fire in a 360-degree pattern.

Trusting that Noct could handle himself and that Rose would assist him if he couldn't, Ignis remained at his post, backing Y'jhimei against the wall of the hangar through which they'd just passed and flitting back and forth across her, tossing daggers as she fired curative spells from beneath his arms.

"Balls to the walls, boys!" Prompto called out as he let off the last of his trigger-happy shots, sending the final sphere crashing against the wall with another fiery explosion and a shudder of the sheet metal around them.

"Hey, good one, kid," Gladio laughed, tousling his hair.

But the stomping of a Magitek armor drowned out Noct's call to move on, and Ignis surged forward at the sight of an MA-X Patria stomping through the gate that they had been headed toward.

"Noct and Gladio, switch to shields," Ignis called out, summoning his lance. "Prompto, might I suggest you switch back to the saw?"

"Thanks, Iggy," Noct responded.

His time and intelligence gathered in Altissia had clearly benefitted their skill in taking armors down, as even without the ideal weapon, Ignis was easily able to slice the lower leg joints as Laura and Noct leapt up to take out the core in the upper joints just as Ravus had.

"Sure was a lot easier with five against one," Gladio noted as the machine crumbled into a pile of twitching metal. "Didn't even get a chance to electrocute us."

"Shocking, I know," Ignis quipped, motioning that it was safe for Y'jhimei to come out from the hangar.

"Um . . . guys? What's that thing over there? Is it gonna attack us too?" Prompto asked apprehensively, pointing in a direction just over Ignis's shoulder.

Ignis whirled, summoning his daggers to his hands without thought, but Laura stepped up behind him and placed a hand on his elbow. _I think we're okay. It hasn't moved since the armor crashed through the gate._

There, just beyond the wall, hovered a sphere at least ten times larger than those they'd encountered today, perhaps thirty feet in diameter, its unfamiliar writing glowing viciously red in long columns down its metal surface. Though he didn't recognize the script, the power source seemed reminiscent of Magitek cores in MTs.

"I believe it's this world's version of a teleporter," Y'jhmei said, stepping closer to the sphere and squinting up at it, her cat-like vertical pupils narrowing and her ears pricking forward in interest. "I found myself right next to it when I came to, so it may have brought me here."

"Whaddya mean, 'this world'?" Noct asked.

"You know. Your world. The one we're in right now!" she said with a shrug. "The device must've linked up with one of the ancient Allagan teleporters I found back home."

"It does look strikingly similar to Solheim's Magiteknology," Ignis mused. "Please, tell me more of this word, 'Allagan.' Is it a race?" _This is the source of the tear you feel, is it not? Why did Solheim rely on this instead of the switches we've seen? Does the sphere pre-date the switches?_

"It's this whole civilization that lived on our world during the Third Astral Era," Y'jhimei replied, waving a vague hand in the air.

"And that would be . . . how long ago?" Gladio asked.

"A long time," Y'jhimei answered. "Like, five thousand years ago."

 _It's the source of the tear, certainly, but as to the rest of it, I don't know. They clearly traveled in time to arrive in Y'jhimei's world if they became these Allagans—or perhaps a year isn't as long on their planet._

"Well, while it was this teleporter we came for, I say we handle it once we've stopped this divine summoning these Ixali are so hellbent on seeing to completion," Ignis said.

"Yes," Laura agreed as she led the way forward. "I think the danger of the paradox is passed, anyway. The chances that the Empire can find out what's going on here, write up a report, and have it trickle up the ranks to reach Ardyn in the next seven hours are pretty slim. Not that we shouldn't keep this information on the down-low anyway, just in case."

As Noct opened the next gate, a wall of bright yellow feathers seemed to wiggle and jiggle in front of them as an almost insect-like buzzing filled Ignis's ears, setting his teeth on edge.

"Oh no! What're you doing here?" Y'jhimei cried out, rushing over to the rotund chocobo they had assisted her with the day before.

"It's a shame we didn't just follow him here," Laura giggled as she reached a hand up to stroke the bird's chubby cheeks. Was a bird physically capable of developing chubby cheeks? Ignis hadn't thought so, but the evidence before him seemed to suggest otherwise. "He seems to be better at infiltration than we are!"

"Hey there, Mr. Chunkabo! Whatcha doin' over here?" Prompto laughed.

Gladio nodded in approval. "He's a faithful steed. Bet he'd do anything to protect his partner."

"And I'm very grateful," Y'jhimei said. "I just can't really look after him properly while in the middle of my research, so I let him eat whatever he wants . . . which happens to be quite a lot."

"You guys hear that?" Noct interrupted, walking cautiously toward yet another inner gate of the base.

"Yeah, I suspect we're about to crash a summoning party," Laura said before looking down at the tabby that had been following along behind them like a phantom. "Stay here for this part, Nelson."

"He's managed quite all right on his own thus far," Ignis said as he pressed the mechanism that would open the doors, revealing the towering crystalline meteor shards glowing bright blue in the late morning light. The buzzing hum of the Ixali in the midst of their wild undulation didn't cease as the six of them strode silently but unhidden toward the ritual.

 _Real aliens,_ _from another planet,_ Ignis breathed, _fascinating._

Taking in their clawed feet, segmented arms and legs, narrow waists, broad chests, and insect-like heads topped with horns, Ignis's mind buzzed with hundreds of questions. What was their world like that they evolved as a bipedal insectoid species? Were they sexually dimorphic? What was their society like? Clearly, they possessed religion of some sort. Was this buzzing they were hearing their native language? The group had heard several threats shouted their way when the spheres had attacked them, so they were capable of speaking Lucian. And why was that? Why did Y'jhimei speak Lucian as well? Could this have been a mark of a world touched by Solheim? If so, why did the Solheimian language also exist? Why was it not the one to be passed down throughout the universes?

 _Calm down, love,_ Laura laughed. _You're asking all these questions that can't be answered or are unlikely to be answered, unless you want to try asking them. And do try to keep in mind that there are currently two aliens from other planets in your party—one of whom you were crazy enough to bond with._

Even with new concepts such as telepathic bonding, time sense, and the free use of magic, Ignis often overlooked the fact that Laura wasn't human—even after returning to him in her true form. She was just so familiar to him, no matter how she appeared or what she did. And Y'jhimei . . . though the woman did possess ears and a tail, she still seemed human to him in a way these Ixali didn't—even if she was rather . . . ebullient.

Still, aliens or not, this lot needed to be stopped now, and it appeared as though they were rather far along in their ceremony.

"Don't tell me we're too late!" Noct said.

"Let's go!" Gladio shouted, leading the charge to the Ixal sitting cross-legged at the base of largest meteor shard in the center of the circle.

"Remember, at least give them a chance to stop the ceremony peacefully," Laura reminded them as they rushed forward.

"Pretty sure all those balls they sent us were their answer," Noct argued.

Ignis felt Laura falter momentarily and sent her a wordless query as Noct threw his sword to warp-strike into their target with a roar of, "Oh, no you don't!" But she didn't have the opportunity to answer for her delay, as the Ixal marked for death turned in their direction, let out a painfully hoarse death wail, and dropped to the dirt with a sigh of expiration.

"I—didn't even touch him," Noct protested as Ignis came to a halt by his side.

As Ignis cast his eyes over the unfamiliar physiology in an attempt to solve this most recent puzzle, Prompto pointed up to a spot high above their heads and cried out, "The shards!"

Ignis looked up just in time to see the shard—the size of one of the two-story buildings in Lestallum—disappear in a blinding flash of glowing blue as a vortex of wind picked up, sending vicious swirls of gritty dirt flying into the air and their faces.

"On the bright side," Laura yelled over the roar of rushing wind, "the completion of the ceremony handles the rest of the Ixali for us."

"Yes, but the downside is that the Empire will certainly get wind of this," Ignis replied, throwing his hands in front of his face and tilting his head against his shoulder so that the grit wouldn't wind up down his ear canal.

"Well, if we can get the situation under control quickly, perhaps they'll just attribute it to a freak Leiden windstorm in Duscae."

"Look! There she is!" Prompto said, pointing once again up at the sky, where Ignis could just make out a ball of wings dropping to the ground fast in a graceful, controlled spin.

"Where's Y'jhimei?" Ignis asked in alarm as he surveyed their surroundings, noting idly the position of the four remaining meteor shards and the topography of the area that would soon be their battlefield.

"Something odd was going on with that statue, so I sent her to check it out," Laura replied. "She'd be in danger here, anyway."

"Heads up. Things are about to get ugly," Gladio said.

The ball of feathers unfurled like a ship's sail, the Lady of the Vortex's four white-feathered wings spreading wide to catch the gusts. The woman executed a gracefully-controlled glide down to the ground, where she gently touched her two scaly hooves onto the stone where the meteor shard once stood, the click of foot against stone somehow sounding over the force of the gale. The five of them looked up at her as the green and white wings of her headdress danced on the air currents, her bone-white face appearing almost benevolent as she gazed tenderly back at them with black eyes. For a moment, Ignis could almost see why the Ixali had worshipped such a creature.

"Oh, but she's beautiful!" Laura said in awe and fascination before growing more serious. "Wait until she's made a move before advancing. I'd like to try for some diplomacy first, if we can."

 _Do I finally get to see evidence of these diplomacy skills to which you've hinted?_ Ignis asked in amusement, but as Laura took several slow, careful steps toward the creature, her eyes wide and wary with the wonder of discovery, he added, _Be careful._

The Lady of the Vortex uncurled her scaly black bird claws from over her green and white feathered bodice, spreading her arms wide as she threw her head back and let loose a high, bone-chilling screech. The group was forced to scatter out of their defensive formation as Ignis whirled, ducked, and dodged the onslaught of vicious feathers that were hurled toward them before burying their pointed quills into the ground with hundreds of thwacking thuds.

 _I think we see which way the wind is blowing now,_ Ignis added as he glanced around to inspect the status of their party. _I'm not certain how much a negotiation will change the nature of a woman who shoots first before so much as identifying her targets._

 _I have to try,_ she said, approaching the hovering bird-woman with a careful, neutral expression. "Am I addressing Garuda, Lady of the Vortex?" she asked in a formal, almost melodious tone. When the woman only tilted her head, squinting in curiosity down at Laura, she continued. "By the standards set forth in Article twenty-three of the Shadow Proclamation, I must hereby inform you that you've arrived on a Level Five planet currently under quarantine. I recommend for your own safety that you return to your world in peace."

Garuda blinked slowly, the black irises of her eyes only serving to highlight the cold cruelty behind the slow, feral smile that crossed her features before she answered in dual-toned Lucian, "Wretched insects of this alien world—rejoice and fall to your knees in supplication! I, the supreme deity Garuda, shall rule over the skies and fill them with storms!"

Laura turned back to Noct, the tendrils of hair that she never clipped up whipping against her face in the wind. "Well, I tried. What's your response, Your Majesty?"

"We already got our share of problems down here! This 'divine intervention' is the last thing we need!" Noct yelled up at the woman, pointing in accusation, and Ignis pushed his glasses up further on his nose, preparing for the inevitable fight the so-called goddess would put up at their failure to acquiesce.

"Then behold as my gales drown out your arrogant protestations. Tremble as my winds tear you limb from limb!" Garuda responded haughtily before loosing another ear-piercing shriek.

"Then let's be done with this riffraff!" Ignis spat. "Noct, we can kill two birds with one stone by taking her out and resolving the paradox."

"Let's handle this quick," Gladio agreed, summoning his broadsword. "Better bust out the Royal Armiger on her ass—a proper 'welcome to Eos.'"

"Right," Noct agreed, closing his eyes and allowing the ten signature weapons of his forebears to break through into this realm.

Though mere mortals such as himself had always admired the Power of Kings, Ignis had never truly recognized the ability to summon the Royal Armiger as a divine power of the Draconian until Pitioss, until this very moment that Noct brought the glaives that represented the spirits of his ancestors to the surface of this world. Noct rarely used the Royal Armiger in battle, and Ignis was beginning to see why—the price that was paid from the use of such power each time it was wielded, Noct's declining health with each strike. That was to say nothing, of course, of how those very same glaives would one day take his life.

"Just watch your condition, and don't over-exert yourself," Ignis advised. "Remember, we're here to back you up."

But Noct clearly wasn't listening, as his eyes were focused on the ten arms spinning in a circle, and . . . why were there only ten?

"Luna's trident's missing!" Noct said in alarm, clenching his teeth.

"Ravus said her work wasn't done," Ignis reminded him. "Perhaps she only lent it to you to fell the goddess, but we can discuss this at a later time. We must hurry!"

"Right," Laura nodded before warp-striking up onto Garuda's back, hacking at her wing to send her crashing to the ground. She had just enough time to roll out of the way as Noct sent his Royal Armiger shooting into her body in sparkling spectral trails, too fast for Ignis's eyes to identify which glaive was hitting the woman at any given moment. When Laura had returned to their group, Prompto set loose a volley of bullets, piercing Garuda's side and covering her white feathers in sickly green blood. Once the Royal Armiger had ceased and Noct stumbled woozily, attempting to recover, the rest of them fell on the vulnerable woman, blades brandished.

"Noct! Are you all right?" Laura asked after several minutes, and Ignis tore his polearm from the screeching, clawing primal's side and whipped his head up to see Noct bent over with his hands on his head.

 _Is he hurt? Doesn't your necklace work on him as well?_ Ignis asked as he dismissed his weapons and rushed to his liege's aid.

Laura followed after him as she said, _Yes it does, but this is that damned statue and unsolicited telepathy again._

"I'm all right," Noct muttered as he and Laura reached Noct's side, grasping his elbows and helping him to his feet. "I—I dunno whose voice I'm following, but, as long as you're helping me out, I'm with you!"

"Probably not the best idea to just offer up your allegiance to a random voice in your head, Noct," Laura chastised, but her words came too late, as Noct's eyes were already red with that familiar glow that came with the mark of a god, the completion of a covenant.

The whipping percussion from the sky that reached Ignis's ears reminded him somewhat of a Magitek engine, the way it beat at the insubstantial air in an effort to maintain its position. Ignis and Laura looked up to find yet another ball of wings hurtling down to the ground in a tunnel of wind—faster this time, seemingly out of control. In a death-defying maneuver, this new entity uncurled and released her wings far too close to the ground in an effort to halt her freefall, stretching her long, golden, bird-like legs ending in claws and her long black-clawed arms wide to catch as much air as possible. Ignis couldn't see the woman's eyes beneath her mythril bird mask, but her skin glowed a chocolate ebony and her lips a peacock green in the grey light of the clouded sky. Those vented scarlet, purple, and gold wings didn't seem as though they would be effective in keeping her aloft, but they did their job as she hovered over their party, smiling serenely down at them in a manner that suggested to Ignis that she was smirking. The cowl of golden feathers around her neck ruffled in the wake of her gale as she, too, threw her head back and shrieked like a hunting eagle.

Having no idea what this new entity's status was regarding her opinion on his and Rose's mixed relationship, Ignis stepped in front of Rose, summoning his daggers in preparation for some sort of attack, but he needn't have bothered, as this Messenger only seemed to focus on that which she had been called for. A shot of air and light pierced the swirling grey sky at her call, penetrating Garuda's prone form as the defeated entity screamed her final words, "No mortal should possess such power! This…this is impossible!"

As Garuda shriveled away in a haze of green light and the emissary of the winds disappeared to wherever summons went once they'd achieved victory, Noct swaggered closer and shot back, "Yeah, well, apparently I'm not—technically, anyway."

"Easy there, tough guy," Gladio said amusedly. "You're still a mortal, divine blood or not."

"He does look a bit like the cat that ate the canary, but I suppose it's better than turning tail and running," Ignis remarked with the barest hint of a smile at the seemingly exhausted Prince. Ignis would need to prepare something extra nourishing tonight before they went to bed and returned to Altissia. For the moment, all he could do was distract him. "Still, that's our last cataclysm overthrown—a rather long tale to tell anyone who asks about it, if I do say so myself."

"Iggy?"

"Am I ruffling your feathers again?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"I know," he replied, his smile growing into a wicked smirk. "I have an eagle's eye for these things. Still, you were in fine feather today—established the pecking order and showed the Lady of the Vortex who rules the roost. But now that you've gotten your second wind, let us meet up with Y'jhimei to ensure she's all right."

"Yep! We'll wait for you! Birds of a feather, and all . . .," Prompto said with a grin.

"You guys blow," Noct muttered, but the corner of his lips quirked up in a small smile as he led them away.

As they slowly made their way back to where Y'jhimei presumably waited for them in the statue's former courtyard, an ethereal whisper wafted on the air, faltering their steps as they paused to listen.

"I am a Messenger of the will of the gods. I was defeated by the gods and awakened by a traveler from another world. Over my long slumber, my name has been forgotten. I shall therefore take on the name of the goddess of storms. Henceforth, I am Garuda. Together with the gods, I shall bring the winds of dawn to your era of twilight."

"So, now I'm confused," Prompto said as the voice was whisked away on the wind. "Is she an Astral or a Messenger? I didn't think you could forge covenants or summon Messengers like that."

Gladio nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Not like Gentiana comes when you call her."

"She could be one of Ramuh's Messengers," Ignis said. "Or she may be a High Messenger—her Astral body defeated, perhaps during the War of the Astrals. It's possible she migrated into her Messenger form and was turned to stone to hold her prisoner as a form of punishment."

"Which would mean there are other ways to hold a goddess in place than chaining her in hell, so Eos must not have the ability to control her powers in a Messenger form," Laura said.

"That would be the most likely explanation. It never sat quite right with me that they would want to keep her alive yet kill any theoretical Messengers of hers off. This is all merely speculation, however."

"Seem to be doin' a lot of that lately," Noct said bitterly. "It'd be nice to get some straight answers for once, but I doubt she's gonna give 'em to us."

* * *

In a gesture far too reminiscent of this morning's scene at the breakfast table, Prompto let out a long, dramatic yawn as they approached the camper in the Cauthess Rest Area parking lot.

"So that was it? Y'jhimei's gonna keep outta sight and do her research while she figures out a way to get back to her home universe? Is she gonna be okay on her own, d'ya think?"

Gladio let out a little chuckle before answering, "She's a smart girl. She can handle herself. And the window for the paradox is passed. Think we're good."

"Did anyone happen to ask what it was she was researching?" Ignis asked. "I confess I hadn't thought to ask."

"Anything, really," Laura replied, "but mostly arcana and the Allagan civilization. I pointed her toward some of the Solheimian ruins here on Eos she might be interested in checking out but warned her about the danger."

"See? She's been informed. So whaddya say? A few beers, dinner, kickin' back with some King's Knight before we head back?" Gladio asked, slapping Noct on the back.

"Hell yeah," Noct agreed. "Prompto?"

"You know I'm game! And what about you, Laura? You wanna try again and get your tail whipped?" Prompto giggled as he grasped the end of Laura's tail and whipped it to hit the backs of Ignis's thighs.

"Prompto! That could be highly inappropriate, for all you know," he chastised.

"Not like any of us is gonna know any better without a Miqo'te here to tell us," Noct said. "You got any plans for you and Laura this afternoon, or is she allowed to hang out and play?"

"There's rumor of a foraging spot for wild onion nearby. I'd like to pick some up before Laura and I start dinner," he replied, eyeing Laura as he brought the topic up. Eager though he was to finish what they'd started this morning, it would be rather rude of him to presume she was still in the mood. Offering up this suggestion as he had at least presented the opportunity in such a way that they could devote all their time to foraging if she'd changed her mind.

 _Are you kidding me?_ she asked in disbelief at sensing his hesitancy. _I've already got an idea of where to find some privacy._

"Sorry, guys. Onion's a bit difficult to find outside of Lucis," Laura said, tousling Prompto's hair.

Noct plopped down in one of the plastic chairs outside the caravan with a disinterested, "Cool, if that's what you guys wanna do."

Gladio gave them a wicked smirk as they called for Calima and Saracchian, but Ignis was relieved to see that their sparring practice had instilled some doubts as to their private activities, as Prompto said just as they were riding away, "I can never tell if that means what I think it means or not."

Ignis caught on to Laura's idea as soon as she led them to the base of the arches behind the diner and went on ahead, encouraging Calima to leap up onto the high, rocky ledges before Saracchian's lighter load coaxed him to first position with a cheeky laugh and flash of sharp teeth. As Calima cut Saracchian off once again and they stepped onto the beginning of the path that led up over the road, Ignis ignored the stunning view for a moment in favor of discovering the perfect spot—one that would offer them privacy from possibly prying eyes down below yet still provide them with the gift that was the landscape of nearly all his homeland.

There—two dark brown rocks raised at a perfect angle for taking her in several possible positions and blocking all but their heads from view on both sides. Ignis turned Calima, stopping the bird next to where Saracchian was already swaying with the heavy breeze, his glossy black feathers flipping up against his black and mythril saddle. Laura had, of course, sensed his intentions the moment he'd become aware of them, so she was already waiting for him right where he wanted her when his boots crunched in the gravel beneath his feet as he dismounted.

"This world is just so devastatingly lovely," she said in a hushed tone. Ignis stepped up behind her, pressing her body against his seemingly humming one, bringing his right hand up and around to cup her left breast, and spreading the fingers of his other hand wide over the warm skin of her belly as he turned in a slow circle with her, taking in the view combined with her scent.

Again, all of Eos seemed to lay prostrated before them. From their vantage point, they had a clear view of all the craters left by the smaller meteors from the Astral War, every set of arches of the Sundial of Cauthess—ethereally blue in the misty distance, the mythril wing of the Disc itself, Lestallum, the rolling verdant forests, and the jagged peaks of mountains surrounding them on every side.

"Look up, love," she whispered into the breeze, her head pressing back against his chest as her Miqo'te ears rested for a moment against his mouth before he obeyed.

Breathing in deeply a lungful of that fresh, grassy, rocky tasting air, he almost lost himself in that expanse of clear blue extending in a hemisphere above his head. He'd seen such a sky dozens of times before, but never so close and never quite like this. And though the smallest corner of his heart was reluctant to acknowledge that he dreaded leaving the cradle of his home and returning to that accursed city, this was just the sight he needed to remind him why they had to go back, why they needed to risk the two greatest loves of his life.

But they had hours until they had to return, and he had Rose here all to himself for the time being.

Removing his hand from the soft warmth of her breast to release her hair, he let the twist fall heavy onto his chest, where it caught the wind and swept off to the left until he grabbed a handful and pulled her head back, exposing the long column of her neck to his lips and teeth.

"Ignis," she sighed reaching up behind her to scratch lightly at the back of his neck before grasping her own handful of hair. With a gasp into her ear and a rush of heat to his groin, Ignis pulled her closer as she arched back into him. He slid his hand below the belt of her skirt, beneath the elastic waist of her underwear, and teased lightly at the edges of her sex.

She whimpered weakly, tugging more insistently at his hair, "Ithīr, athaluat, _Ithīr, I've wanted you all day. Please, Ignis."_

He couldn't help but smirk against the pebbled skin of her neck, even as he wanted to moan his pleasure at the rather enticing way she was rubbing her backside against him. For all that she was the more experienced of the two of them, she was also the more impatient, the more eager to have all of him. And while he found that notion endlessly flattering, Ignis typically preferred to take his time, to savor her thoroughly from every sense, to drown in that exquisite agony of anticipatory pleasure.

"As I have you," he murmured, letting his voice go deep and husky with want as he tickled along the seams of her thighs and ground into her from behind, "but you must be patient."

"I don't _want_ to be patient," she whined petulantly, bending her head to nip at the wrist on her breast. She opened her mind wide so that he could fully feel just how wet she truly was, how much her emptiness almost hurt, forcing him to grit his teeth at the answering pulse that went through him.

Growling in defeat and frustration, he pulled away to undo the lowest belt of his jerkin, allowing him to unclasp his trousers, but as he made to pull them down Rose said to him without turning around, _Wait. Show me from your eyes. Show me what you're doing._

He did as he was bid, letting his eyes linger on the tight nub of his head peeking out through his open trousers beneath his black boxer-briefs, but they shot to the barest hint of the curve of her backside as she leaned forward to place both her hands on the stone in front of her.

 _Focus on the task at hand, please,_ she teased, reaching behind her to pull her bloomers down to fall around her ankles, and though he hadn't truly singled out its existence until that moment, his attention zeroed in on the shiver of her tail.

 _If I'm to do this, you'll need to tell me what to do,_ he challenged, tilting his head so he could get a better view of the curve of her cheeks underneath that skirt. Reaching out to graze the very tips of his fingers over her lips, back and forth, over and over until she let out a shuddering moan that sent a thrill of masculine power through him, he added, _That, or you cede your control to me._

 _I want you to pull your trousers down as far as they'll go,_ she gasped immediately, and he reluctantly pulled back.

As his last act of teasing rebellion, however, he decided to make a meal of removing his gloves, focusing on each finger as he one-by-one pulled them free, sneaking glances of her Miqo'te ears laid flat against her head, her tail thrashing, and the seam of her glistening sex under the shadow of her skirt as she waited for him, bent over, panting, and vulnerable. It was that vulnerability as she waited that made him pick up the pace in his compliance, pushing the longer side of his jerkin aside and pulling the flaps of his trousers apart and down, but they only made it just past his groin before they hung over the top edges of his boots.

"Yessss," she hissed. "Now pull yourself out and touch yourself."

Feeling only somewhat self-conscious, he wordlessly moved to comply, pushing his boxer-briefs over his engorged erection and running both hands along his shaft, twisting his palm a little when he reached his leaking head. But just as that breathless relief pulsed through him at the friction, he heard a groan and the teasing wet sound of her sex being touched. His patience for this game evaporated immediately at looking up to the sight of her bent farther forward, fully exposed, her fingers spreading her labia wide and dragging over her slick pink skin.

"Fuck me," he whispered on an exhale, which only earned him another moan and a flash of ache through their connection.

"Oh, gods, yes, Ignis, please," she whimpered, her fingers moving faster at her plea. "Right now, just like this."

Though he'd taken her from behind once before, he'd never done so with her bent over like this. He'd been, perhaps subconsciously, avoiding this position because it cut off too much access to her body and expression, as though he were using her as an object. His opinion on the matter changed abruptly upon bracing himself with his right foot on the angled stone by her hand, lining himself up, and pushing into her silky warmth with a resounding moan from the both of them.

Gods, had he ever been this deep inside her? She felt tighter somehow around him, fuller. But no, she pushed her hips back until she had him by the root, and he shot both hands to her hips, squeezing her flesh to still her for a moment as he shivered violently in her heat. Ignis wasn't the only source of that overwhelming tingle of pleasure and primal savagery; Rose was experiencing it, too—that intense desire to fuck as though they were both inebriated on her pheromones.

Biting his lower lip to stifle his own soft cry, he tentatively pulled back and pushed forward again, reveling in that delicious friction and the brushing of his hipbones against her buttocks.

 _Oh gods, Rose. I don't know how long I can take this,_ he admitted reluctantly, his fingers tightening on her hips.

He had just pulled out enough so that his rim teased at her entrance in a way that always sent a shockwave through their connection when she cried out, _Please, just go. Just fuck me, please._

How could he refuse such a vehement request? Thrusting long, slow, and deep as she pushed back against him, he kept his eyes locked on where they were joined—the curve of her rear, the shine of her essence clinging to his shaft each time he pulled out—this was just what they needed. She always seemed to know just what he needed. And as her long black tail curled around his bare hip and snaked up his shirt, tickling at the small of his back and merely increasing that basal, hindbrain instinct to lay claim to her, all he could do was growl long and low like a barbarian.

"You're mine."

Her wordless answer was deep and guttural, like an animal in heat, spurring him to pick up the pace as he clung to her hips and suckled franticly at her breasts, neck, and clitoris in his mind. He shouldn't be feeling this—this deep satisfaction and masculine dominance and pleasure from something so animalistic, so lusciously naughty. Desperate to find some deeper emotional connection between their bodies and minds, Ignis removed his left hand from her hip and stroked along her spine—up and down—tempering and soothing that feral drive as he continued to move in her.

Months of practice, and he was getting better at drawing himself out, of holding himself on the edge until she began squeezing him with every inward thrust, until she began trembling around him. She was only seconds away when the familiar wave of pressure and sensation built, the pleasure in her body only serving to increase his own as he leaned over her back, drove into her as deeply as he could, and let out a final gasp into her ear.

She was quiet as they cleaned each other, her mind silent to him even as she leaned against the stone, pulling him on top of her and sealing her lips to his.

"We're going to be all right," she murmured when he'd pulled back to press his ear to her right heart, though the quadruple beat of both hearts still pulsed in a steady rhythm against his face as the vibration of her voiced buzzed in her chest along with it. "I'll protect you."

Ignis wasn't a fool. For all that Rose made an honest effort to make him an equal in this partnership, often even the dominant one, when it came to life or death matters, she tended to bear the burden alone. He didn't _believe_ the oversight was due to a lack of confidence in his willingness to defy the gods for those he loved. It was rather more likely the sort of habit that was born of lifetimes traveling alone and not wishing to risk his mortal shell. He'd always withstood his trials and responsibilities in a similar manner, taking on the load without complaint or visible signs of duress. But he'd ceded that inclination the day he fell asleep against that anak; it hadn't been a simple matter to do so, but he expected the same of her in return, even if he couldn't share in matters of the future and even if her change of habit would be a work in progress.

"But who will protect you?" he asked into her chest, pressing his lips briefly against the petal-soft skin. "You have to let me, Rose. Don't bear this alone. Remember that you're nearly as destructible as I."

"I'll try my best, I promise, but there's nothing to share just yet that I haven't already told you. I hope you know . . . it's not because I consider you incapable."

"I realize, yes," he said firmly—reassured of his hypothesis, but he let out a long, weary sigh. This trip home, while enlightening, hadn't exactly been restful. Perhaps their two weeks on the boat on their way to Terraverde would provide them the respite, if not the privacy, they all deserved. "Shall we go and fetch the onions before the others begin speculating as to what our true aims were in leaving?"

"Yeah," she replied unenthusiastically, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, careful to comb it in the direction he'd had it styled.

"Onions, then dinner, then the future," he said, leaning up for one last lingering kiss, humming in pleasure against her lips before pushing himself up off her.

"Yeah," she agreed, the barest hint of a smile tugging at her mouth as he pulled her to her feet. "Back to the future . . . wonder if Umbra's equipped with a flux capacitor."


	68. Chapter 68

The train had only just left Calcano; they were still a couple of days outside of Gralea when Gladio finally snapped.

Two weeks he'd waited—after Umbra had taken them back to the night before they were supposed to get on the boat and start heading to Terraverde. He felt that giving it two weeks was more than fair, considering all they'd been through and all they still had to go through.

He'd been patient long enough, for fuck's sake. He'd stepped back for long enough and let the kid grieve for Lunafreya, and for a while, it almost looked like he was gonna pull himself together. Noct had handled his issues with Iggy and Laura like a fucking adult for once in his life and was taking Prompto's confession pretty much in stride. The atmosphere had almost been normal while they'd been back in Lucis—as normal as it could be saving the world—but then they'd gotten on that fucking boat. Then Noct had spent the next two weeks brooding inside his own head as Laura steadily deteriorated.

And then Iggy happened to bring up the fact that the damn train would be stopping in Tenebrae.

Noct still hadn't put that gods damned Ring on yet, and they were running out of time for him to grow some balls and become the king they all needed. Just a couple more days, and they'd be in the heart of enemy territory, possibly waltzing into the Emperor's throne room to stick a sword in the man himself. None of them knew just what the hell they were supposed to do with the Crystal when they reached it in order for Noct to become Savior of the World, so besides strapping the damn thing to the roof of the Regalia and mowing over the thousands of soldiers and MTs that would no doubt be waiting for them, Gladio had nothing. Their only source of answers were those hundred and thirteen kings currently sitting in Noct's pocket—completely ignored.

He got it; he really did. It wasn't like Gladio hadn't lost people he'd cared about. But what if he'd moped and sulked and refused to pick up his sword after his old man had died? After he'd had to leave Iris behind? He'd had to make sacrifices too, gods damnit, and not only was Noct spitting in the face of that massive effort, he was also giving Luna's sacrifice the finger, too.

Gladio sat stiffly on the hideous green pleather seat staring out at the flat dry plains and gray-green underbrush that reminded him far too much of Leide, inhaling the scent of sweat and feet and letting all the anger and fear bubble up inside him until he felt like he could leap through the plate glass window and race across the desert. Looking to the bench across, he could see that Iggy and Laura were completely oblivious to the fact he was about to explode. Laura's face had gone bone white, her knees pulled up to her chest as she stared out the window with wide, blank eyes. So Iggy was probably helping her through another one of her episodes—and Prompto was too busy fidgeting around Noct in a failed attempt to perk him up. He was on his own. This was who he was—the only man making sure that Noct moved on, grew up, and became someone worthy of following into the hell they were about to enter.

The small, shaky sigh Noct let out as he stared down at the floor was the last fucking straw.

"The hell is wrong with you? We're not stopping in Tenebrae. You need to grow up and get over it," he growled, rising to his feet and clenching his fists in an effort to redirect that tight feeling in his chest somewhere else.

"I am over it," Noct growled back, standing to stare up at Gladio with his teeth bared. How did this kid not know he was in the wrong? What right did he have to fight back? As Gladio grasped a satisfying handful of Noct's shirt, Noct's voice rose in petulant teenage anguish and anger as he said, "I'm here, aren't I? Let go of me!"

"Gladio!" Ignis chastised, but Gladio chose to ignore him. If he could just make the kid angry enough to do something, maybe he'd put that ring on and do his duty.

"How's that ring fit ya?" he taunted. "You'd rather carry it around than wear it? She gave her life so you could do your duty, not so you could sit around feeling sorry for yourself!"

"You don't think I know that?!" Noct shot back, struggling against Gladio's iron grip on his collar.

He leaned in close to Noct's face, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing quiet. "You don't! You think you're a king, but you're a coward."

"Shut up!" Noct roared, baring his teeth as he struggled to remove Gladio's fist from his shirt, but when his fingertips failed to pry Gladio's fingers apart, he settled for grabbing a fistful of Gladio's jacket instead.

So intent on making their so-called 'leader' see just how fucked they were if he didn't pull it together, and soon, Gladio wouldn't have noticed Prompto's hand pushing at his chest if he hadn't cried out, "Don't do this!"

Even through his rage, Gladio knew Prompto was just trying to do what he did best and keep the peace, but he didn't get the situation any better than Noct did, obviously—didn't get that the only way to get Noct's sorry ass to do anything since he was a little kid was to give it a good kick. Prompto might've been willing to die for his friend for gods knew what reason, but the rest of them were obligated, practically from birth for him and Iggy. He didn't have the time or inclination to explain to Prompto that Noct couldn't be a friend or a boy right now, so without releasing Noct, Gladio placed a hand over Prompto's face and pushed him away, hard enough that he'd reconsider getting in the middle of this again.

"Gladio!" Iggy and Laura shouted.

Though he kept his eyes locked on Noct's furious, burning ones, Gladio could clearly identify the hand that reached between them and grasped his wrist tight enough to hurt but not enough to injure him.

"Stay outta this, Laura," he growled, but she'd already begun twisting, loosening his grip on Noct's collar before she shoved him up against the glass window—hard.

Had this been any other situation, it might've been kinda funny to look down and see those fiery blue eyes staring up at him from the level of his chest. She may've made a promise to the King to see them through this, but at the end of the day, she'd volunteered for this mission—same as Prompto. Unlike Prompto, however, he'd sparred with her enough times to know that he wasn't gonna get past her no matter what he tried, which only served to piss him off more.

"Apologize to Prompto," she seethed.

Gladio looked over to where Prompto was bent over the back of the bench, being assisted by Ignis with a soft, "Are you all right?" When Prompto nodded, they both looked up to Laura, still pinning Gladio to the window with a hand on his chest and a hand on his wrist.

Though that fire was still burning in his chest, practically forcing him to clench his jaw tight at the words, Gladio managed to mutter, "Sorry, man."

"Good," Laura said under her breath, moving her hands to fist at the edges of his jacket and thrusting him toward the door at the back of the car.

But Noct's fire apparently hadn't extinguished yet either, as he followed after them, his voice growing hoarse as he yelled, "I get it, all right? I get it!"

Gladio tried to sidestep Laura so he could get back in Noct's face to respond that he obviously _didn't get shit_ , but she stepped right along with him, shoving him even harder. Gods damn, but of course she was stronger than even Cor, so he settled for yelling back over her head.

"Then get a grip! Pull your head out of your ass already!"

"Shut up! The pair of you!" Laura shouted, pushing against his chest to get him moving again. Turning her head over her shoulder, she said to Ignis in a calmer tone, "If you could handle this out here, I've got this bonehead to deal with."

"Indeed, I will," Iggy replied darkly, glaring first at Gladio, then at Noct.

Looked like Mommy and Daddy were both gonna do a little scolding this afternoon—too bad Gladio didn't know which was which. He finally surrendered to her shoving and prodding when she pushed him to the vestibule, turning to freely walk through another seating car to the sleeping car that held their compartment. He sure as fuck hoped she was ready to do some shouting, because he definitely wasn't done yet. That gnawing sensation was still chewing up his stomach, and it still felt like the top of his head was gonna pop off from the pressure. Still, he held the door open to the tiny room the five of them shared so she could step through first before he stalked in after her.

"And just what the hell was that all about?" she demanded as she rounded on him.

"You know what the hell that was about. I'm trying to get him to grow up and be a man so he can do his duty and become a king," he growled at her. "We're gettin' so close, and if he doesn't put that ring on, we're gonna be fucked."

"I've worked too damned hard to get Noct to confront his emotions for you to swoop in with your ridiculous notions of what masculinity or regality are supposed to be and ruin it all."

"They're not ridiculous!" he said before he realized he was gonna need better ammo than that if he was gonna go head to head with someone so much older than he was. Pulling out Gilgamesh's words, he shot back, "'Fear and doubt beget death alone.' He's gonna go through a lot of shit before this is over, and if he's too busy crying into yours and Iggy's skirts, we're all gonna be screwed. We need him to be a weapon right now!"

"Stop trying to make him into Regis!" she shouted up at him. "I know he and your dad were your heroes, but all heroes were stupid kids once, wanting to be just like their own heroes. One of these days, you'll see it's not a thing to be lauded."

She seemed to lose a little of her fire as her expression sagged, making her look old and weary in a way he bet she never let Ignis see. "Regis wasn't perfect either, you know. He allowed Noctis to be raised like this. He shut the gates and allowed that xenophobic culture to fester to the point where it became almost too easy to tear Insomnia down. Maybe this war was inevitable, pre-ordained, but sometimes I wonder if it couldn't have been done with less bloodshed."

"Maybe you're right, and maybe you're not. At this point, I don't give a shit. All well and good to be talking about what you can't change. I wanna know what we're s'posed to do right here, right now, with _him_."

"Gods damnit, Gladio, you let him be! He's on this train right now to avenge the woman he was just beginning to love, to avenge Jared, to avenge his father. You want him to do his duty? Love is what's gonna make that happen!"

"And I get that. Love's important for any soldier, but you gotta lock it up. I've gotten this far after the death of my king, father, and chamberlain, along with probably every other friend I had back in Insomnia, cause I was able to shove all that shit aside. I didn't sit down and cry about it. 'Suck it up and get the job done.'"

"First of all, perhaps you should've—even if it was only for a moment. Second, not only is _he_ different from you, his destiny is different from yours. Is it such a foreign concept that he should need different tools, different strategies for coping?"

She shook her head, looking down at the floor, and it was only after his ire was starting to cool a little that he'd noticed this was the first time he'd seen her up close in a while. Letting his eyes wander over the purplish-blue veins in her sallow skin, the shadows under her dull-blue eyes, he wondered just how bad these episodes had gotten to affect her like this. Was Iggy fully aware of the situation?

"I'm surprised at you, honestly," she said with a weary sigh, running a casual finger along the window frame. "You've shown Ignis so much compassion and empathy."

"Iggy's not the one who's gonna have to save the world," he said gently as he studied her. "And he's proven he can kick his own ass and do his job at the same time."

Her gaze shot back up to his, her expression turning hard again as she glared up at him. "And for gods' sakes, stop taunting him to use that ring. You know what it does; you saw it sucking the life out of Regis for years. There's absolutely no benefit to him putting it on before the very last moment. You are his Shield, Gladio. A Shield—"

"Yeah, lemme stop you right there," Gladio said, because he might've been less experienced than her in a lotta things, but not in this. "Been gettin' those lectures from my dad, from Cor, the King, from fucking Gilgamesh himself. Ain't nothin' you're gonna say I haven't already heard, Princess."

"You should know me better by now to know that I am _not_ your father or any other man you're thinking of. He may have believed that a shield protects a man's body in battle; it's less obvious that a shield also protects his heart and mind. I know you're frightened, and I don't blame you. But I need you to tr—"

As far as he could tell, nothing had happened, but Laura's eyes suddenly slammed shut, the tendons in her face twitching as she clenched her teeth and sucked in a long, harsh breath through her nose.

"Fuck!" she roared, reaching out to slam her fist against the window next to her. The glass splintered under her hands, the shards digging into her knuckles as she left wet, bloody trails glistening like crystal on the sharp fragments, but it held in place. Gladio rushed to her side as she collapsed on his bunk behind her, her hands reaching up to clutch at her face.

"Hey, Princess?" he asked hesitantly, pulling her to his side and holding her tightly as he'd seen Iggy do when this happened in private. But Iggy was handling Noct right now and definitely wouldn't come until he was satisfied with Noct's response, so Gladio stayed to do Ig's job. He'd never been the one to comfort her like this during one of these episodes she'd started having off and on since they'd left Altissia— had never felt her trembling like this under his arms. "They're getting worse, aren't they? Definitely getting more frequent," Gladio murmured into her hair as he rocked her back and forth. "You got any ideas besides the fire and the skin of the universe thing?"

"No. I know it's not like last time," she said weakly as she went limp in his arms. "There're no paradoxes, no gates—the cuts aren't clean enough. It's almost like . . . shockwaves of some major nexus are sending out ripples, microtears in the universe, and multiple people in pain are trying to reach out—powerful telepaths. They're calling out for help, but they hurt."

Gladio had opened his mouth to ask what they could do about it, even though he knew the answer was probably gonna be 'nothing but wait,' when the door to their compartment opened swiftly, revealing a hard-eyed Iggy standing in the doorway staring down at Laura.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, but the way he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes a little was enough to let Gladio know there was a secret side to this conversation.

"I'm gonna get outta you guys' hair," Gladio said, pulling away from Laura and standing to squeeze past Iggy in the doorway. "Lemme know if I can do anything."

"I have him stabilized," Iggy said, nodding back toward the seating car. "See to it you don't undo my careful efforts."

Really, he wasn't sure if it was a promise he could keep, but the best he could do was give them a little piece of mind. "You got it," he said quietly, shutting the door behind him.

When he returned to the seating car at the front of the train, cringing a little when a little boy cowered as he passed, Gladio found Prompto immediately in the same seat he'd left him, staring out the window looking like he was trying not to cry. The top of Noct's spiky black head was visible over a seat several sections down, hopefully lost in thought about what he was gonna do about Gladio's words.

Gladio collapsed on an empty bench near the back of the car, leaning his head against the warm glass and watching what looked like Leide roll by. If it weren't for the fact that train systems didn't exist in Lucis besides the Underground in Insomnia, he could almost pretend he was on his way home after a trip to Altissia to see the Prince married off. King Regis would still be holding the Wall up over the completely intact city, Jared would usher him inside and ask how his trip had been, Iris would be working on something stupid—like math homework—and they'd both sit down with their dad at dinnertime.

And hell, while he was dreaming, he might as well raise his mom from the dead.

They were all on their own—left in charge of a barely-existing country as the world and their King fell apart around them—and there was no point pretending otherwise. Gladio didn't have a fucking clue what to do now—how to handle Laura's episodes, how to handle Noct's apathy. Laura's little speech hadn't helped much—he still didn't know how he was supposed to protect Noct's heart and mind, especially when the kid was refusing to step up and do his part. And the only person who could be of any help at all was running back and forth making sure they all didn't fall pieces.

"I know better than everybody thinks I do, you know," Gladio heard Noct say, and his head shot up to see the kid himself sitting in the seat across, staring down at his boots. "I've known a long time. Whether I like it or not, I've got a duty to fulfill—as King."

"You're damn right you do," Gladio shot back, but his tone had no real grit behind it, as the fight had gone out of him after his discussion with Laura.

"Just cause I'm not my dad doesn't mean I don't have what it takes," he said quietly, still staring down at his boots. "It actually takes both more and less than you'd think."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Gladio asked, but Noct only shook his head and sighed in response. Gladio wanted to shake it out of him—beat it out of him with a good spar like he'd always done when they were kids, but if these people were nervous about their presence now, he didn't imagine a good spar in the middle of the train would help matters much. Instead, Gladio lowered his head and squinted up at that familiar, boyish face in an effort to get anything off his downcast expression.

Noct had always looked like a sullen, petulant teenager to Gladio, even if Iggy'd insisted that it hadn't always been that way—those dull, sleepy eyes and that frown that always made him look like he was about to either cry of flick someone off. But studying him now, Gladio could make out that same world-weariness he used to see in Iggy, the same age he sometimes saw in Laura. Had Lunafreya's death really affected him that much? Yeah, they'd written to each other in that book for years, but he'd barely known her, really. Just what the fuck had happened on that altar to change him, Ig, and Laura of them so drastically?

"Nothin'," Noct mumbled. "It's just . . . remember what my dad said before we left?"

"Said we should remain by your side, and that's a promise I intend to keep. Just that I'd rather not die in the process if I can help it."

"He also asked that you not guide me," he replied, letting out a weary sigh as he reached up to play with his bangs. Dropping his hands again, he said, "I'm gonna need you guys to trust me at some point."

Gladio put his hands on the hot, green cushion on either side of him, leaning forward to inspect the spatters of mud splashed across the black leather of his boots. He'd resigned himself to protecting Noct the day Noct had covered for Iris because he saw that the kid had heart, if not necessarily everything else a man needed to be a good king. He'd followed behind Noct on this crazy-ass trip because it'd been his duty, but he'd mostly relied on himself—and maybe Iggy and Laura—to keep himself alive.

Trusting the King with his life was supposed to be part of his job, just as the King was supposed to trust his Shield. But could he trust _Noct_ with his life? He'd gotten them this far, and the fact that he was part Astral had to count for something. It wasn't gonna be an easy thing, changing a lifetime of habit, but he guessed with them heading into the belly of the beast, it was pretty much now or never.

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do."

* * *

They didn't have a lot of time before the train was due to arrive in Cartanica—probably why Claustra had booked them a night train so they could sleep through most of it. Gladio settled into his usual bunk—the lower one on the opposite side of the room from Noct—squeezing his too large frame into the too short space and ignoring the scratching of the obnoxiously yellow sheets against his skin. And yeah, he was trying pretty hard not to think too much about why they'd chosen yellow as a color for bedsheets. As the mattress above him sagged and shook with Prompto's weight, Gladio looked over to see Ig spreading his hand protectively over Laura's middle. With a serene smile, Laura raised her arm to place on top of his, entwining their fingers.

At least something was right in this shitty world, even if it was still weird as hell to see him touching someone like that. He wondered how much easier this whole ordeal had been on the both of them just because they took such good care of each other.

Maybe, one of these days . . ., but that kinda connection made them more vulnerable, too. He got that a guy didn't choose when to fall for someone, but the battle in Altissia proved that it'd be best if Gladio waited until after the darkness had been banished before he tried to find anything. He'd thought he might've made a connection back in Altissia, but after the way things went down there . . ..

"Whaddya do all night if you don't need much sleep?" Prompto asked. "It's not like camping or Lestallum where you can go cook things or whatever. Come to think of it, haven't seen you make bread in forever."

"Made a lot in those twelve years, you know," she said amusedly, but she turned her head back toward Ignis a little, even though his chin was resting in her hair. After a few seconds, she said, "I spend most of the evening in Ignis's dreams."

"You mean like, literally inside his dreams?" Prompto asked. "Talk about living in a dream world!"

"She shows me her memories," Ignis said in a sleepy voice, his eyes still closed.

"Whoa, that's hardcore. You don't think . . .." The sag in the middle of the mattress above Gladio's head shifted to the left, the bunk creaking with the movement, and Prompto's fingers came into view as he hung them over the side of the bed.

"You think you could show us some of the stuff you've shown Iggy one day? Like, take us to other planets and stuff?"

Actually, that was a pretty damn good question. Gladio had always been curious about their relationship, even more so once he found out about their telepathic thing. This new information made their connection that much more enticing, but he'd always believed it to be a kinda private romantic thing he had no business asking about. Of course Prompto wasn't gonna catch on to something like that, but that wasn't gonna stop Gladio from taking advantage and listening very closely to the answer. Leaning up on his elbow to get a better look at her as she responded, he noticed that even Noct had leaned all the way over in his bunk to look down at them.

Grimacing a little, she said, "What is it with you boys and telepathy? Never seen humans so interested before."

"When Iggy told me about it, he made it sound . . . kinda cool," Noct said.

"Wait, you knew?" Prompto asked, and Gladio could almost see him shaking his head up there. "Weekly meetings, man."

"Just as long as you don't start insisting on daily standups and electing a scrum master," Laura snorted.

"Uh . . . no? Don't even know what that is."

"Well, either way, I can't share that with you guys. Sorry. Ignis and I couldn't even commune like that until we bonded. The most I'd be able to do is send you messages and some emotions. Noct can tell you from his experience with the gods—it's not particularly exciting."

"Ugh," Noct groaned, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling of the train car. "Not exciting at all."

"Bummer," Prompto mumbled, his hands disappearing from over the side of the bunk.

Well, that sucked, but Gladio kinda figured that would be the case. He was beginning to learn that everything, especially the good things in life worth having, came at a cost. It looked like Iggy's cost had been surrendering his heart, and maybe a piece of his sanity, for the rest of his life, but it seemed like it was a cost he was more than happy to pay.

It grew quiet for a couple of minutes, the only sound in the car being the rhythmic clacking of the metal wheels against the track. He hadn't thought so when he first boarded, but the constant vibration and the gentle rocking of the train was kinda peaceful, in a way. Even though the light in their compartment had been turned off the second they'd lain down, the bright moon shining through the magically-repaired window cast everything in a dim glow.

A sharp intake of breath made him look back to the bunk across, where he caught sight of Laura grimacing in pain as Iggy pulled her closer, his eyes closed like he was fast asleep, but his brow furrowed in concern. A few more deep breaths and a shudder, and her expression went lax as she opened her tense eyes to meet his.

"Are you okay?" Prompto asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," she said in a low voice, stroking at Iggy's hand, but he didn't move or respond. "You know how these things go. I'll let you know when I know more."

"You knock him out, or what?" Gladio asked, nodding at Iggy.

It was probably one of the worst-kept secrets back in Insomnia that Iggy'd been living off caffeine and maybe two hours of sleep a night for quite some time, and in the beginning of their trip, it looked like a habit he was planning to continue. Since he and Laura had gotten together, however, he seemed to pass out the second his head hit the pillow. Gladio'd thought it was because doing all that hunting out in the wild was finally getting to him in a way the office work hadn't; after all, nothing was better than a full day's workout for knocking oneself out. But now that he'd thought about this telepathic connection and this dream world thing, there was probably more to it than that.

Laura nodded. "He has trouble turning his mind off."

"Probably all that coffee he drinks," Prompto chuckled.

"Nah, he's had a problem with it his whole life, far as I know," Noct said.

Laura's expression turned knowing as she continued to stroke Iggy's hand. "Curse of the genius, I'm afraid. He makes plans, lists, tallies up your finances, reviews research on the places we're going, worries about you all." She paused when her eyes met Gladio's, her brow furrowing. "He knows I do it."

Gladio raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I wasn't accusing. Good to see him gettin' some sleep." The memory of Ignis Scientia, the cold, unflappable genius, clinging to her dead body every night for two weeks swum behind his eyelids. "He had nightmares every night you were dead, you know, even when you were at the hotel with him."

"Altissia was hard on all of you, in more ways than one."

"You got that right," Prompto mumbled, and even from across the compartment, Gladio could see Noct nod silently in the moonlight.

"Yeah, well, war hardens us all," he said dismissively, staring up at the underside of Prompto's mattress.

"You don't have to let it, you know," she said quietly. "It was your first real battle, and still a pretty tame one at that. You know how many I've been in?" She shook her head. "Thousands. You guys started out on this journey with all the training and none of the experience, thinking you knew what lay ahead of you. You were all so wide-eyed and innocent—still are to a certain extent."

As much as he hated to admit it, given where they were headed, she was probably right. They'd spent years sparring and practicing in the Crownguard training room, doing a couple hunts on practice dummies in the little copses that barely counted as a forest on the edge of the city. But the first time he'd put a blade into something with a beating heart had been that second day out in the Weaverwilds, and another couple of weeks before he'd killed fellow human being—a man with hopes, dreams, and a family, just like himself.

Fucking Astals, but he'd been a naïve little shit before this trip, growing up thinking he knew how tough his life was, how tough it was gonna get as Shield to the Chosen. They'd prepared him to kill since he could walk, but he'd been Crownsguard—everyone knew Crownsguard were just glorified police. His dad hadn't seen any real action since the attack on Tenebrae, and then the Great War before that. Gladio had believed his life was gonna be covering Noct's ass while he held up the Wall and did whatever he was supposed to do with the Crystal to dispel the darkness. But this? Nothing could've prepared Gladio for this—losing everyone at once, kinda losing his sister, losing all those hard days that now seemed so carefree.

"I'm trying to preserve as much of that innocence as I can," she said. "You may have thought that I was ordered to go on this mission as a backup Shield, and I suppose, in a way, that's true. But do you remember what I told you earlier about what a shield is supposed to do? I've tried my best to balance the wonders of the world with the horrors of war so you're all still human when this is over—so there's still enough of you left to find joy in the rest of your lives." She let another moment pass with nothing but the sound of that incessant rocking and vibration between them all before she whispered, "Ignis was the most in danger of that—losing himself to this. He'd never known joy."

"When was your first kill?" Gladio asked softly, knowing it was definitely not the kinda thing he should ask another soldier, but he needed to know—needed to know how young she was when she became old. After all these years and all those battles, how was there enough of her left to feel anything at all, let alone joy?

Her eyes seemed to stare past him as she answered, "I was nineteen, and the man I loved was going to die saving the world." She chuckled humorlessly. "My first kill? Half a million sentient beings with the wave of a hand. And let's face it; it wasn't so I could save the world. Ripped open the heart of the most powerful being in all of creation so I could save _him_. It's one of the reasons I try not to do it, fall in love, if I can help it. It's dangerous for someone with my abilities."

"They were . . . bad though, right?" Prompto asked.

"Oh, yes. They were going to kill every living person on the planet before heading off to conquer the universe, but that doesn't necessarily make it right. The reason you kill is almost as important as who you're killing. Still, I'd do it again, and do the same for Ignis—sacrifice any amount of good I have for any of you."

"Ig wouldn't want that," Gladio said firmly, "but he's a lucky man all the same."

"Is he? I'm not so sure. Ardyn put together that whole charade on the altar to target him. Was it to get a hold of me? Come to think of it, I almost hope so. Otherwise I'd have to think he did it solely to torture Ignis. And then look at what I did to Ardyn in retribution."

"Saved him though. Saved me," Noct muttered.

"Yeah, and you make his dreams come true," Prompto added. "Literally."

Laura closed her eyes and sighed, moving her fingers up to brush against Iggy's arm, her features tight and tired and _old_. How many wars had she lived through after she'd lost the one that killed her planet? He'd never really thought about how lively, how wondrous, how fucking sweet and innocent she seemed for someone who had been through all she had claimed. Thinking of how jaded Cor and Clarus were after only one war, he was starting to see how much effort that must've taken on her part.

What would happen to the four of them if they all followed his dad's advice? _Suck it up and get the job done._ Sure, there was nothing more important than getting their duty done, but what about the rest of it? If they survived long enough, how were they supposed to find it in themselves to live when this was all over? They'd been raised on the stories of heroes, like Cor the Immortal, but he'd never really thought about the fact that heroes were born of war and strife, blood and regret, and the loss of innocence. When was the last time Gladio had heard Cor laugh?

Was there another option? Laura had proven that she could do her duty, and do it well, while still feeling things. That spark in her had kept them all going so far—with her tea and her bread and her turning everything into a gods damn miracle. She'd even changed Iggy into a completely different man.

He'd been kinda pissed to find out she was coming along at first, thinking King Regis hadn't felt confident enough in his abilities as a Shield and decided to send along a second. But beyond the occasional emergency, she hadn't really protected them all that much physically. Instead, she'd pointed and quoted and laughed as she skipped through the dark singing a merry nutball tune like a damned crazy woman—and he was starting to get why.

"Think I might get what you were saying earlier," he said quietly in case the others had fallen asleep.

"The four of you have such beautiful souls, Gladio. It's my honor to protect them."

And of course, she had to go and make it weird by talking about their souls. He didn't really know how to respond to that kinda shit, so he searched for a way to change the subject.

"So what memory are you gonna show him tonight?" he asked, nodding toward Iggy.

"I thought, after his reaction to the shou puerh," she said with a soft smile, "he might like to visit The Library."

"Nerds," Noct let out on an exhale.

Gladio snorted in agreement. "You guys are so fucking weird. You've traveled in time—been to more planets than I've ever dreamed of, and you're taking him to a library?"

"Not _a_ library, _The_ Library, capital T, capital L," she corrected. "Technologically speaking, about three thousand years in your future, the entire planet is one giant library, housing every piece of knowledge from every race in the universe. Each section is a continent covered in skyscrapers laden with books—a million million of them. Gods—the wave of scent that hits you when you land! It's biblichor at its finest.

"Even ignoring the fact that every piece of knowledge in existence is within your grasp, the place itself is stunning—sweeping skylights, stained glass windows, heavy wooden bookcases, marble floors, and artwork from history's master painters. And the core of the planet is a computer that holds digital copies of every book in addition to every piece of music, every movie, every master instrumentalist's performance, every contribution sentientkind has made to that universe."

As an afterthought, she added, "Oh yeah, and they have a coffee bar."

"Wow," Prompto whispered.

"Yeah, he'll love that," Noct said. "But when he told me about it, he made it sound real, not like you just showing him."

"Yes, he walks among my memories, able to touch, smell, see, taste, and hear things as I experienced them. He can even interact with other people to a limited extent—human or alien. For him, it's as though he's truly visited those places."

"Damn," Gladio muttered appreciatively. No wonder he'd been different—living two days for every one of theirs as he traveled through all of time and space.

"All right, you boys have pried into my husband's personal life enough for one night. I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring it up with him tomorrow. Let him talk to you about it if he chooses." She sucked in another sharp breath, her expression twisting, before she let out a little chuckle. "Now go to bed, before I'm forced to knock you all out!"

For once, Gladio lay awake, listening to the miles of track clattering away beneath them as the others dropped off one by one. He watched Laura suffer silently through two more episodes, with Iggy frowning and tightening his hold on her both times without waking up.

Gladio was just on the edges of sleep when he heard it, so he couldn't be certain that the quiet sobs he heard coming from the bunk over Iggy and Laura's were real or imagined.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I definitely wanted to leave this argument in here because I feel like Gladio gets a lot of unfair hatred from this scene. And while he wasn't completely in the right here, he had a valid reason to go off on Noct like he did. And unlike in my story, he had even more reason to be terrified because Ignis was down and pretending everything was fine, and he was yet another sacrifice Gladio felt Noct wasn't paying tribute to. Hopefully, I did him justice.


	69. Chapter 69

**Author's Note:**

Angst. Heavy, heavy angst this chapter.

Also, sorry for the plethora of dividers, but FFN didn't like my much less jarring method for switching perspectives.

* * *

He had become Fire—licking, burning, seething—from his eyes, from his hands, from his very identity—there was absolutely no room left for his existence except for this scorching purple inferno and lashing instinct. He'd relinquished his soul the moment he'd slammed that ring on his finger, so he supposed that with his damnation, he'd become more than Fire, he was Hellfire. Flaring cracks of burning lava burst through his skin, and somewhere at the back of his mind, the horror of seeing his own body consumed like this sent an alarm ringing through his primal sense. But no matter the cost, the reward of keeping his brother safe as he'd promised His Majesty so long ago would make all his years of suffering, including these last moments of his life, well worth it.

 _Take my body, take my soul—whatever you demand, whatever it takes—to save my brother. Burn it all to ash._

Because his brother was quite literally the only thing left in his solitary life worth living or dying for.

For so long, he'd clenched his teeth against the physical and emotional challenges he'd been presented with in his short life—kept himself so tightly reined in that it had become a foreign sensation to express what he was truly feeling. But as he screamed his throat raw at the pure agony licking at his every nerve, he couldn't help but feel that stirring of catharsis in the practice. Perhaps he should have done this more when he was still alive.

He'd made headway in his dance with the devil, but the raw power of the gods was ravenous, eating his very veins away into volcanic lava and ash, searing his corneas and leveling a lifetime of logical thought to mere stimulus and response. He'd been reduced to fuel to power a dying sun, but there was only so much his ephemeral husk could offer to the divine. The fortitude of his mortal shell was flagging, faltering, despite the enduring fact that his resolve _never_ would. Ignis had lost the ability to see his nemesis the moment he'd struck the deal with the Old Kings, but there was just enough left of his former self to wonder just what exactly had happened when the seething mass of oily black he'd come to recognize as the Chancellor suddenly stepped back from their battle and spoke in that gentle, condescending tone of his.

"Whew! Wasn't that exhilarating? I think that's enough for one day."

And with that anti-climactic declaration, those wretched Kings wrenched themselves away from his body, leaving him not a single moment to adjust to becoming a mere mortal once more. He had no idea what had become of his adversary, but it hardly mattered with no power and no sight to fight with. All that mattered was . . .

"Noct."

With slow, staggering steps, shivering against the afterburn of the Ringfire as the rain sapped away more of his precious body heat, Ignis dragged his heavy frame in the direction he'd last seen his liege. But the Old Kings had taken too much of him in payment after the long battle he'd already fought today, and he collapsed on the stone, reaching out across the cold, wet ground in an effort not to be denied the one comfort of knowing that Noct was safe.

Of course, it eluded him, but at least Ravus had been able to verbally assuage his fears.

Ignis could distantly hear his friends shouting his name, but he couldn't unclench his jaw long enough to answer for fear of screaming in agony as the freezing raindrops tore off the top layer of his charred skin. It wasn't until he felt the burning chill of fingers against his neck that he managed to turn his heavy head and groan out a final plea before his surrender.

"Please, forgive me."

As Ignis closed his useless eyes, begging for the darkness to consume him, a warm, golden glow seemed to sparkle behind his eyelids—loving and gentle and familiar in a way that baffled him.

 _Sleep, Ignis,_ a woman's voice crooned, beckoning him lower into his consciousness, away from the pain. _You have much yet to come._

 _Please._

* * *

 _Rose?_ Ignis asked in alarm as he stepped off the train, turning to allow Noct to pass so he could catch sight of her.

He hadn't expected to receive any communication from her today, as they'd agreed that it was quite dangerous enough for one of them to be going down into the mines with this strange affliction, let alone two of them. To find himself presented with such a sharp visual of himself as he burned alive, therefore, was unexpected, and more than a little unsettling.

And, if the reason for it was what he thought it was, beyond infuriating.

 _Oh gods, Ignis. The source was you all along—your every alternate self, reaching out,_ she said as she stepped down from the train, trembling and pallid with the aftershock of their shared agony. _The nexus causing ripples was Altissia, and it wasn't powerful telepaths. It's been you, forcing our bond open._

 _Do you mean to say that you're bonded to my every self, and he's forcing that connection open to share his suffering?!_

Ignis had spent far too much time while Rose had been dead and Noct had been convalescing contemplating the endless possible routes he could have taken the day of the battle. And just as when he'd spent his youth considering his options for likely assassination attempts, many of these scenarios ended in a lonely, painful death. How many of his carefully thought out threads had come to fruition in another universe, and how many were reaching out to Rose through these tears to share their burdens? Such selfishness certainly didn't describe his character—at least, not this version of himself. What sort of men were these alternates?

 _They can't help it, Ignis. It's instinct. They're in so much pain,_ she said with a shudder, _they don't even know they're doing it. And . . . I wouldn't say high bonded—maybe something more akin to a low bond._

He could likely forgive his other selves for such a transgression; after all, he had died once himself and had reached out to her mind without a bond at all. But there was one thing that truly hardened his heart against these men—none of them had figured it out in time. Not one of these men had put the clues together to realize that Noct had never been in danger, that putting on the Ring had been a completely pointless venture. Even the so-called victory he had just witnessed had yielded no reward, as the Chancellor could have just as easily stabbed Noct after he'd collapsed. What had been the point? That man had died for nothing at all, leaving Noct to shoulder this burden without him.

Of course, that version of him had made the sacrifice in good faith, but why had the Old Kings allowed him to do so, knowing full well that his nemesis couldn't truly be defeated? And not just a nemesis—even worse, likely a relative of the Founder King, the Mystic, a man Ignis would have likely spoken to the moment he put on the Ring and pleaded for the power to save Noct's life. The forfeiture of his own meagre existence for not even the guarantee that his brother would survive to a ripe old age, in fact, for nothing at all, set loose a seething revulsion for all those whom he'd once revered—the gods and the Old Kings both.

At least Ignis had learned something from this torturous vision—that charade on the altar _had_ been for his benefit, and not simply to gain control of Laura. But why? Why would the epitome of all evil in this world take such a vicious and personal interest in him?

 _I can't say for certain, love, but usually because of some silly, psychological reason. And . . . I'm not sure that version of you is dead._

Ignis took his place beside Noct, glancing back briefly to ensure Laura wasn't going to lose her footing as she continued to quiver, but it seemed that the event had passed. There would likely be another very shortly, however, given their frequency last night during their trip to The Library and this morning at breakfast.

"You guys wanna hit up this dining car later? Gotta be better than that slop they were serving on our train," Prompto said, pointing to the spare train car secured over the deep ravine just across the platform. It was likely serving as a permanent train station, which was rather clever, Ignis supposed, as it alleviated the burden on the Empire to spare resources to build a station that saw so little business.

"The food's not Paul's fault," Laura mumbled.

 _Are you certain it wouldn't be better if you stayed behind?_ Ignis asked innocently, though he knew she could detect that hint of worry in his request.

"Maybe give 'em a shot on our way back," Noct suggested.

"Same company, doubt it's gonna make much difference," Gladio said.

The five of them made their way up the steps and onto the wooden boardwalk that doubled as an observation deck, heading in the direction where Ignis had spotted a set of stairs leading down.

 _And leave you on your own when the connection is blown wide open? Not bloody likely!_ She paused when they reached the stairs, gesturing the four of them to the railing. _Should we tell them now, or wait until we're done with this?_

Ignis stepped up beside her, taking her hand and holding it between his hip and the railing so that it wouldn't be too obvious they were putting on a public display. As Noct placed his hands on the railing next to Ignis and Gladio took Noct's other side, Prompto ducked under Laura's outstretched arm.

"Wow," Prompto breathed. "Wait, lemme get this shot," he said before pulling out his camera to take a few shots of them lined up against the stunning backdrop.

"For all its desolation, this place is actually beautiful," Laura said in a small voice.

 _Our excursions to procure Royal Arms have thus far been perilous. We should wait so as not to afford them any more distractions than necessary. They are, at least, already aware of your attacks._

Squeezing her fingers tightly and doing his best to lend her his strength, he said, "Yes, the land reflects the sunrise in a rather unique way here. The effect is stunning."

Ignis had never seen a landscape so unnaturally orange in his life. The dusky glow seemed to emanate from the very land and water itself, as the sun wasn't yet visible over the rocky horizon. But even as they watched, the light seemed to shift in a slow gradient to shining gold—reflecting off the water of the Sathersea and turning the Succarpe Mountains into misty, imposing shadows, their majesty only diminished by the scar of retaining walls protecting the oil fields from their treacherous rockslides.

"Sunrise is kinda late though," Prompto remarked with a frown.

"Yes," Laura sighed. "And if yesterday's trend is anything to go by, it'll set ridiculously early. We'd better get going."

Laura's next episode hit just as Ignis pressed the button to open the clanking, groaning doors of the rusty metal cage they had the nerve to call an elevator.

Except for perhaps in their darkest moments in Altissia, Ignis had never felt such a crushing wave of fury roaring off her. Her sharp intake of breath forced them all to stop and stare as she glared at Noct with deadly ice in her cold blue eyes.

"What?" Noct asked, taking several small, retreating steps into the elevator, and for a fleeting moment, Ignis wondered whether he would have to step between the two to stop her from killing their own charge. "Is it another attack?"

Whatever had made her so angry apparently hadn't been a powerful enough of a projection to break through the wall she'd reestablished while they'd watched the sunrise, so Ignis settled for stepping close to look down at her questioningly, raising an eyebrow for some sort of clue as to what had just happened.

"Yeah, sorry," she said, shaking her head clear as the little metal box complained its way down the long, dark shaft. "I just have a feeling it's going to be a long day."

"Gettin' a Royal Arm—you bet it is," Gladio agreed, crossing his arms over his chest.

* * *

Though the ancient tree was small compared to the Arkhein on Miriásia, Ignis couldn't help but take a moment to marvel at the sheer size of it—here in real life on his very own planet. That the tree had managed such a prodigious size in the short amount of time since the enormous mining machine had been abandoned was truly a remarkable testament to the strength and wonder of nature. The maze of twisted roots spanning the ravines of the mines, serving as bridges wide enough for them to walk two by two, not to mention the entwined tree trunks seizing the heart of the manmade object and slowly crushing it over the span of decades, proved that nature would always prevail against human.

It was chilly enough for him to appreciate his gloves and blazer in that frigid, wet dim. The high humidity only allowed the chill to linger; to fill his flaring nostrils with the scent of wet soil; to encourage the growth of the lush moss that covered the slippery layer of mud—forcing them to consider every step carefully.

Laura had been silent—both telepathically and verbally—as they discovered the leg of the machine blocking the way. As far as Ignis could tell, she hadn't suffered another attack, but he hung back between Noct and Laura, ready to rush to either's aid as they dispatched congregations of gurangatches, slipped down muddy slopes, climbed up slimy tree roots, and scaled rocky drop-offs.

They had just discovered the control panel, to which they needed to find the key in order to move the machine's leg and clear a path deeper into the mine, when echoes of a conversation he had never held floated across his connection with her, laced with silent anguish.

* * *

"You should head back," Noct said quietly, the tone of his voice practically screaming pity.

"Was I in the way?" Ignis asked earnestly.

"No, you weren't. It's just . . .." But instead of finishing his sentence, Noct let out a long, awkward groan as though he couldn't bear to voice his thought aloud.

* * *

What new torturous scenario was this? Was one of his alternates to become a burden to the retinue at some point? He couldn't imagine what sort of malady would render him unable to do his duty yet capable of tagging along like a loyal dog . . . or an infant.

He would rather die.

Snapping his teeth tightly together, he resisted the urge to speed up, to place distance between himself and Laura in an effort to place distance between himself and such a disgusting event. This wasn't her fault. Whatever this was, clearly, was entirely of his own making, albeit of a parallel's path. Ignis didn't hear the phantom voices again until they had reached the shed that likely held the key to the backup generators. As he assisted Noct in searching for it among the soggy piles of moldy wooden and cardboard boxes, and while Prompto used a finger to write his name in the slime that covered one of the oil drums that sat at the base of a pile, the nightmare conversation resumed.

* * *

"Whoa! Careful, Ignis," Prompto said as though speaking to a wayward child.

Ignis gave a low, pained groan in response. "Right. I only wish I could do more."

"You staying alive is enough," Gladio replied gently.

* * *

Perhaps he'd grown weary and frustrated on his other self's behalf as they walked in silence back to the panel that would turn on the backup generators; it was the only explanation Ignis could summon for why he whirled on Laura so suddenly.

Grasping at her shoulders and growling under his breath, he said, "I don't care. Let me in." But he regretted the words as soon as they'd left his throat and his brain registered the sight of her face.

He shouldn't have let this go on for so long without checking on her. It was as though she could no longer see him standing in front of her, as though a gauzy veil had been lowered over her eyes, forcing her to confront whatever reality was now battering at her mind, demanding her full attention. Her sightless gaze seemed to roll over the scenery, unable to focus on him until he gave her a rough shake and plucked at their bond.

"Ignis. Is it really you? Are you . . . mine?" she gasped as though surfacing from a great depth. She'd grown unhealthily white again, the skin around her eyes pulled tight from some unspoken pain.

"Yes, I'm yours," he said, not truly understanding the meaning behind her question, but his answer would always be the same, regardless of the context. "Please, let me in."

"I can't. Even I'm having trouble . . .. You'd be swept off immediately."

"What's happening?" he demanded.

"Bitterness, anger, frustration, anguish . . .," she said in a small, faraway voice, her eyes going blank again, but she seemed to come to herself when the mud beneath them shook and shifted—looking over to the control panel where Noct had just started up the backup generators. Given the rumbling in the distance and the fact that Ignis had to widen his stance to keep from stumbling as he steadied Laura, he presumed Noct had been successful in getting the stubborn old machine to move clear of their path.

"All right," Noct said, relief coloring his tone, "let's hurry up and get in there while we still can."

"Don't suppose we should think too hard about what would happen if the leg falls while we're down there?" Prompto asked tremulously.

"Definitely not," Noct replied.

Partially to hold her steady as they rushed over the uneven terrain, partially to anchor her to this world, Ignis wrapped his arm around Laura's and entwined their fingers as the five of them hastened to the path that would lead them deeper into the Fodina Caestino. But even with his help, her steps stuttered and stumbled as he led her around the vibrant green underbrush; over slippery, fallen tree trunks; and along the perimeter of countless puddles of green, fetid water.

"Hey, you guys need any help?" Prompto asked from behind them, his steps slapping against the soaked ground as he rushed to catch up and grasped Laura's other elbow. "You okay? Kinda figured this thing would come to a head here. Royal Arms, am I right?" he chuckled.

Laura smiled vacantly. "I'll be all right. The rips are concentrated here . . . s' difficult keeping my mind here in this universe. Wants to spread out like pancake batter."

"Can't afford to lose two of you right now to escort you up top. You wanna wait here?" Noct slowed in his dash forward to turn and ask.

"Wait here? Alone?" Gladio said. "Not a good idea."

Placing a hand on Laura's head to assist her in ducking under a branch, Ignis replied, "The situation is far from ideal, as always, but it's best we stick together at this point."

"All right, Specs. Just keep doing what you're doing, then. Keep an eye on her," Noct said before leaning back and slipping down a muddy embankment, landing in the shin-deep, green water that appeared to take up most of the remainder of their journey. Though getting their boots and socks wet was almost an evitable part of their daily travels, they'd managed to avoid having to walk directly through the water thus far, much to Ignis's relief. He supposed that given how soaked the terrain was, this was bound to happen at some point today. Upon disturbing the swampy water, their boots sinking at least two inches into the muddy bottom, Ignis was still able to find it in himself to be grateful they'd managed to walk around the pools in the level above and spare his feet this long.

"Ugh, this place reeks worse than the Vesperpool," Prompto complained, pulling his boot free of the muck with a dramatic sucking sound.

"Rotting detritus," Laura replied in a small voice.

"Shh. You hear that?" Gladio asked, and as even their breaths went still, Ignis could hear a distant splashing, as though something large were thrashing in the water in the wide-open space ahead of them. Squinting into the heavy cloak of white mist settling over the water, he pointed to where he could just make out eight flailing shadows low to the ground several yards away.

"Just there," he whispered. "Wait a moment before you attack."

Turning back to Laura, he cast his eyes around their surroundings, searching for a safe place to leave her while they handled this. He gripped the tops of her bare arms, gently pushing her back to sit on a large boulder that was half-buried in the soft banks of the shallow lake. Though he knew it would make little difference to her comfort, Ignis summoned her Glaive jacket, placing it over her shoulders as a gesture of his care, since he couldn't be there with her in mind.

"We'll return shortly," he said gently, cupping her chin between his thumb and fingers and lifting it to meet her eyes. "Will you be able to battle should the need arise?"

"I'll be fine, love," she said, her expression growing clearer as she focused on him. "Intuition."

"Very well. Please open the connection should you run into trouble." Reluctantly, he turned to wade toward the others as they approached the group of what appeared to be gurangatches guarding the base of a curtain of mossy, green tree roots. "No rest for the wicked," he muttered, summoning his daggers and doing his best to step lightly in the thick muck under his boots.

"Say your prayers!" Prompto yelled as he got off his first shot, and the eight creatures turned as one to bear down on them in retribution.

The animals were surprisingly fleet-footed as they waddled toward the group, their jaws wide open and snapping with filthy yellow teeth. Ignis feinted to the left before spinning to the right as quickly as he was able in the ankle-deep water, flipping over his chosen lizard's sharp, blue elbow fins to drive both of his blades between the creature's ribs. Before the gurangatch could turn its spiny head to rip him apart in retaliation, he gripped the buried blades more tightly as he hefted his lower half up, using the hilts as handles to flip to the creature's other side. Wrenching the blades free with a bloody, sucking, squelch as his feet landed on the other side of the beast's back, Ignis took no time in burying the Lliamérian mithril into the animal's other side before it could whip its head around to snap his leg off.

"Yeah! That's our Iggy!" Gladio cheered as the creature threw back its head and hissed in its death throes.

"Surprised?" he remarked, marking a second gurangatch that was headed in Noct's direction and leaping on its back. "Excellent, Noct!" he added as Noct phased out to avoid a snap of razor sharp teeth before flipping in the air and warp-striking his creature from behind.

"You shouldn't do that elemental thing from Altissia often, right? How bout you do the sagefire instead?" Noct asked when he'd landed.

Ignis's second gurangatch had only just flopped at his feet with a splash of rotting water, soaking his trousers. Eyeing a third that Gladio was struggling to fight alongside another, Ignis crossed his blades, sending his roaring fire through his palms to the tips of the steel as he raced to Gladio's aid, leaving two blazing trails in his wake. The fiery, heated metal tore through the creature's flesh, leaving behind charred slashes in its scaly skin.

"Oh, hi there, opening!" he heard Prompto laugh just before the exploding sound of his pistol echoed off the high cave ceiling.

Concentrating on the splash of the creature's throes, the slapping click of its closing jaws, the scent and taste of rotting fish on the air, Ignis stepped back and waited patiently for just the right moment. A quick inhalation indicated the gurangatch was about to open its mouth to attempt to rip him in half. Tossing his right dagger into the air, Ignis leaned to the side and sent it flying with a somewhat less than graceful kick, but the ground was quite slick, after all. The blade found its mark, burying deep in the roof of the creature's mouth and stabbing at the brain as Ignis had intended. As it dropped limply into the puddle of muck, he held out a casual hand, summoning the dagger back before dismissing both.

"Yeah! Nice one, Ig! Get Laura and let's head on in," Gladio said, slapping his shoulder.

Ignis slapped him back with a broad smile as that familiar rush of victory zinged through his blood. Really, if it weren't for the stench, this would almost be diverting. Of course, he was reminded of how dire their situation secretly was as he waded back to Laura's pale and shivering form. The high of survival faded immediately as he drew nearer, and his vision seemed to shimmer in front of him. He blinked in an effort to clear the mirage from the air, to no avail.

"Rose?" he asked hesitantly, stepping toward her, but a splash coming from behind them made him step back, searching for the sound as he held his hands at the ready to summon a weapon.

"It's not real. You got pulled into the vision," Laura breathed, and it was fortunate that she did, as the sight might have compelled him to believe he was going mad.

A doppelganger, an almost perfect copy of himself was standing with his feet planted in front of a gurangatch, a dagger in one hand and what appeared to be a black, polished cane in the other. The man seemed to be attempting to beat the creature off with the cane before jabbing the blade several inches to the left of what should've been his target.

Ignis clearly recalled his fighting style before he'd begun Laura's rigorous training regiment, and while he hadn't always been the fastest on the field, he had _always_ , at the very least, been a master of bladework. Had this version of him always been incompetent? Was this the same man whose compatriots were treating him so patronizingly? He could plainly see why, if so. For a start, this version of him could probably improve his aim greatly merely by taking those impractical sunglasses off in such dim lighting.

 _Ignis, look out!_ Laura called out to the man.

The other Ignis looked sharply in their direction, and it was only then that he could see what had caused the man's friends to treat him as though he were incapable, what had caused him to seem to forget how to handle a weapon. Even with the dark shades, the extensive scar that was sealing his left eyelid shut was clearly visible, peeking out from underneath the lens on the top and bottom. His other eye, though it appeared to be mostly undamaged, was also closed tightly.

Ignis's own eyes darkened at the sight of the familiar scars slashed across his nose, lip, and eyebrow. The altar—this had likely happened to him on the altar. Had the Chancellor blinded him? Was that what would've happened had Rose not rescued him and he'd been unable to reach the Ring?

 _Step back, Ignis, now!_

The man staggered back, but not in time to prevent the gurangatch he was fighting from clipping his leg with the tip of its teeth, catching his trousers and sending him tumbling on his backside in the muddy water. As the creature turned for another attempt, Ignis summoned his daggers to his hands, ready to defend . . . himself from a painful, violent death, but Laura held him back.

 _We can't touch anything. We're not really here._

 _No!_ Ignis and Laura cried out as the reptile's jaws aimed for the other man's thigh, positioned perfectly to rip his femoral artery open.

Just as Ignis was absolutely certain the blind man was going to meet his end in this putrid, rotting cave, a wall of steel flashed over the gurangatch's head, slicing cleanly through its neck and covering the other Ignis in a deluge of blood.

* * *

"You all right there, Ignis?" Gladio asked gruffly, pulling him to his feet.

"Yes, I appreciate the assistance, truly. Thank you," Ignis said quietly, attempting to cover the tremor in his voice—not completely successfully. "If you all wouldn't mind . . . indulging me in a moment of privacy?"

A moment of silence told Ignis that Gladio was likely studying his expression for some clue as to his thoughts. Would that he could do the same in return. This pointless bickering couldn't continue for much longer with the trials they were about to undergo, and honestly, it was wearing at what thin shell of composure he had left. That roiling despair was eating him alive, undermining and chipping away at his meagre attempts to accept that he would now be a fraction of the man he once was for the rest of his life. Yet he still had every intention of overcoming the obstacles ahead of him, despite the fragility of his hope. Had Noct and Gladio been able to accept these new circumstances in stride, Ignis felt he'd be able to bear this crippling uselessness more easily, perhaps even unlock his dark and frigid thoughts enough to begin his attempt at rebuilding.

"Yeah, we'll keep an eye out," Gladio mumbled before retreating with heavy, sloshing steps.

Ignis waited until the sound had grown quiet enough before turning, keeping his eye closed—because what was the point? He'd seen only darkness since Altissia, save for the glittering gold that had ushered him to sleep and saved him from going mad with the pain.

It was the same glittering golden aura that surrounded the woman somehow standing just to his right, visible behind his eyelids.

"I can see you," he said in such a low voice that he was certain the others couldn't hear. He didn't need to add insanity to his list of possible maladies, as his current condition was already enough of a scar on his pride. "Who are you?"

His heartbeat pounded painfully in his throat when she disappeared for a moment, only to appear closer, close enough for him to reach out and brush his fingertips across the skin of her alabaster cheek.

"A friend," she replied, looking up at him and searching his face with worried, sapphire eyes that shone in the light of her aura. As she reached up with gentle, tentative fingers to the larger scar over his eye, Ignis suppressed the desire to flinch and step back. Though he wished with all his heart that he could, he couldn't feel the sensation of her fingertips feathering along the apple of his left cheek. "Ignis," she whimpered, her lower lids filling with tears. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you."

"A goddess cannot constantly look after her charges," he said with a crooked smile, "particularly one as wayward as I." But why was he the one comforting her when he was the one drowning in anguish? It seemed the right thing to do.

"Talk to them, love," she whispered, running an unfelt thumb along his cheek, and the term of endearment immediately brought tears to his eyes, setting his still-healing corneas on fire. Refusing to let them fall, he instead brought his hand up to hover over her raised arm in an attempt at a caress. "Clear the air."

Ignis opened his mouth to agree, but her image faded and blew away as though in a stiff breeze, leaving him in complete darkness once more.

Onward on this lightless journey, then.

* * *

Laura's eyes shot open, staring into his with fear and sorrow and worry and pity—everything his other self likely wouldn't want her feeling for him.

"Oh gods," she whispered, her bloodless hands trembling as he crouched in front of her and held them tightly. Ignis wouldn't bother asking if she was all right; he'd seen the vision nearly as clearly as she had. Instead, he begged her not to close the connection again, wrapping the tendrils of his mind tightly around hers in a steadying embrace.

"Come," he said, pulling her to her feet, but he didn't let her go once she'd stepped into the water. "The others are waiting." _What happened to him to make him like that?_ Ignis asked as they waded back to the base of tree roots where Noct, Prompto, and Gladio were inspecting a door-shaped recess covered in several large, purple sacks.

 _The Ring,_ she spat. _Those Old Kings burned you alive._

"Hey, you guys okay? Neither of you looks so hot right now," Prompto said with a frown, and Gladio and Noct turned from the door to inspect them closely.

The truth was that none of them could do anything to assist either him or Laura without a telepathic connection, and Ignis still saw no benefit to adding a distraction and telling them in the middle of this mission. He'd seen them brush aside the conversation when Laura used what she had termed 'technobabble' in a casual manner, and he figured now was the ideal time to see if the tactic was a talent of hers or merely a weakness of his friends to gloss over what they didn't understand.

Doing his best to recover from the implications of Laura's last words, Ignis said in an airy tone, "Inter-universal disturbance—the source of these attacks Laura's been experiencing these past two weeks. We have it under control for now, but there may be transdimensional echoes as we traverse the mines. With any luck, the waves of the nexus will begin to dissipate as we pull away from Cartanica."

Even through her desolation, Laura sent a bolt of amusement flashing through their connection.

"Oh . . . kay," Noct mumbled, shooting him a searching look. "But everything's gonna be okay?"

"Yes, I believe so," Ignis replied with a sharp nod. Gesturing toward the door, he said, "We can discuss it more thoroughly up top, if you wish, but I'd like to get this over and done with."

As Noct turned back toward the door, Ignis said, _The only ones to survive the Ring have been those of noble blood, of_ _ **divine**_ _blood. Rose, what does that imply?_

 _That you're also a descendant of Eos? Are you related to the Fleurets or the Caelums?_

 _Ravus . . . implied that I may be, but I don't know enough of my own history to know for certain,_ he replied, shaking his head in frustration.

 _Either way, at best, you'd be a blood relation, not a magical heir of Eos—too distantly related to use her power on your own. You still need Noct and me to connect you to the Crystal. But it seems a likely explanation for why the Ring killed Nyx Ulric and not you or Ravus._

As Noct began slicing the purple egg sacs free of the door, Ignis grew still—slowly filling with burning, righteous anger that was threatening to swallow him whole. For some Astrals-unknown reason, the Chancellor had chosen to toy with him. And had Ignis put on the Ring, he would have been caught in the middle of a game of tug-of-war between titanic, immortal entities over his frail body—a mere plaything for the divine.

That the Old Kings had extracted a price from him to wield the power to handle the problem one of them had likely created was an insult of the highest order. Not only was the man permanently disfigured, he had been rendered incapable of functioning in his only capacity—to stand beside Noct until the end of his trials. Had his alternate's infirmity truly been the result of saving Noct's life, it would have been a price he would've been only too glad to pay—well worth the small sacrifice. _This_ , however had merely been a very real and lifelong donation to avoid calling a madman's bluff, to stay a mockery of Noct's execution in exchange for a sure and certain one farther down the road.

And without Laura's help discovering all this information based on her earthly experience, how much of this was his alternate aware of? Did he know his sacrifice had been made as part of a game of chess? That it had all been for naught? What sort of future could this man possibly have ahead of him now? He may as well have died in the jaws of that gurangatch.

"Ugh, why are there so many?" Noct complained as he sawed at the sinewy, veiny tendrils attaching the fourth egg to the door.

"Sometimes ya gotta crack a few to make an omelette," Gladio chuckled, thrusting his head in Ignis's direction. "Just ask Iggy."

 _No!_ Laura shoved mentally at him, causing him to flinch at the fire in her tone. _He may be temporarily set back in terms of combat and mobility, but he was only just injured. He needs time to relearn how to fight—how to do everything. Until then, he, his function in the group, is as more than a sword. Remember your mind, Ignis. Your mind is still perfectly intact._ _For frack's sake, he was the one guiding them through that mine, telling them what to do next despite not being able to see a gods damn thing._

As soon as the final egg dropped into the water at their feet with a deep, resounding clunk, the sound seemed to shift and morph until it was a thunderous roar of moving water behind them, shaking the ground and sending freezing cold droplets up the back of his head.

"Ignis?! That's a malboro, right? What do we do?" Prompto shouted in panic as they whirled and summoned their weapons.

"Smoke 'em," Gladio replied with a feral grin.

"Greatswords, machinery, and fire," Ignis informed them, closing his eyes to better recall the text he'd reviewed only the day before on the train. "Same as the ones in Kelbass and Costlemark."

Gladio summoned his broadsword and hefted it over his shoulder. "Stay here, Princess. Don't need you spacing out and gettin' pulled under, cause that water's nasty enough we might not jump in after ya."

"For once, I won't argue, but be careful," she said, stepping back under a tangle of roots.

Ignis felt her retreat from their connection as the four of them sloshed toward the wriggling, dripping, slimy ball of sickly green tentacles and suckers. He would always despise their separation, even if he could still feel her golden bridge and thread glowing with a comforting weight in the back of his mind. But she was too close to the battle and would likely feel the telepathic backlash when they defeated it, and as much as he wished she didn't have to suffer when they hunted animals too close in her vicinity, he was practical enough that he saw no need to experience death alongside her as he had with the quetzalcoatl. She'd proven that day that she'd had a much higher tolerance for experiencing such agony, anyway; she'd at least been able to remain conscious as it died.

"Look out, Prompto!" Ignis shouted, jamming his polearm into the short green tentacle that had reached out to slap him aside. The appendage jerked back roughly as the creature slid back from them, raising its fetid maw to the rocky ceiling and letting out a rotting cloud of grey-green miasma that reminded Ignis of the smell of Insomnia on a hot summer's afternoon when the garbage collector's union was on strike.

"Ugh, that smell," Noct complained, lifting his shirt over his nose. He jumped forward and shoved his sword to the hilt into the creature's side before heaving himself back as fast as he could in the knee-deep water. "Like rotten eggs and vegetables mixed together. Feel like it's draining me."

"Just keep hacking!" Gladio yelled, slicing his sword through a sucker-tipped tentacle, which plopped into the water, leaving behind a gurgling, bloody hole.

"Be sure to stay out of the path of its breath, Noct. The effect will wear off momentarily," Ignis said, thrusting himself between the Prince and the malboro before burying the blade of his lance into the beast's body. Dropping to a crouch and adjusting his glasses in preparation, Ignis summoned all his strength to leap into the air, thrust the blade forward, and force it into the creature's rubbery green flesh.

"Ow! Fuck!" Gladio roared. "Remind me to tell Laura to take it easy on Noct's potion necklace."

The longer they worked, the more enraged the beast seemed to become as it thrashed and roared, splattering them all with wet slime and rancid green blood. Though they had to have made _some_ headway on the beast, Ignis could see no evidence of it. They'd all grown weary, their enfeeblement only spurred by the magical properties of the creature's putrid breath. Both Noct and Ignis had switched to daggers merely because they no longer had the strength to hold up their blades—and Prompto, the same with his pistols.

"I believe one last push should suffice to finish it off," Ignis panted as he jumped back several steps to avoid a whipping tentacle. A backhand spring would've been far more graceful, but he'd be damned if he performed _any_ sort of gymnastic technique with his hands in this mud.

"You know," Prompto huffed as he alternated shots left and right into the creature's beady yellow eyes, "tentacles aren't as fun as I was led to believe. I feel betrayed!"

"Ugh, don't tell me you'd rather be . . . never mind," Noct muttered.

Ignis didn't know what the two of them were referring to, but given the topic of discussion the last time it was brought up, he firmly decided he didn't want to know and ignored the conversation in favor of re-strategizing. He took several steps back, narrowing his eyes in thought. They'd thrown several of their strongest fire spells at the creature to no avail, but perhaps . . ..

As he readied a fire flask and waited for the opportune moment to use it, the change in tone of the conversation grabbed his attention. It sounded odd, doubled—as though two identical people were speaking at once.

 _I'm sorry, love. He's frightened, and I can't hold it back,_ Laura said. _Are you all right?_

* * *

"Prompto, where's the enemy?! Blast this blindness!" alternate Ignis cried out in frustration.

* * *

 _Yes, I may have the solution that will finish this thing. Are they having an identical conversation in the other universe?_

"There's no way we can fight like this!" both Gladios bellowed over the din.

Back in his own universe, the malboro opened its enormous mouth with a slosh of slime to spit another round of putrid black fumes into the air. Ducking to the side in an effort to avoid the noxious gas, Ignis wound up, hoping this would be the moment he'd been waiting for, but by the time the haze cleared, his window of opportunity had closed.

"Drat," he cursed to himself.

"Gotta shut that thing's trap," both Nocts said in a low voice.

"What do we do?!" the Promptos cried out.

"This might be a good time to panic," the Nocts replied.

"No!" Ignis yelled triumphantly. "I have just the thing! If you all would buy me but a moment, I believe we can stifle this spitting savage for good."

* * *

"No! There must be another way!" alternate Ignis ground out in frustration and determination. As he lowered the hand that was protecting his face from the spray of smelly water, he tilted his head, listening to that whisper of a voice that tickled at . . . not his ear, but his mind. Had his 'friend' returned to assist him?

 _Trust your heart, Ignis. It knows the answer. Use your instinct,_ Laura breathed into the ether.

* * *

As dearly as Ignis wished the other man had heard the answer and used his wits in a way he clearly hadn't on the altar, he had to switch his concentration to the present, as it seemed the opportune moment had finally arrived in the form of the creature opening its mouth and offering the clear shot he'd been waiting for.

* * *

"Noct, I have an idea. If I may . . .," Ignis said cockily.

* * *

His alternate self must have come to the same conclusion as he, though he couldn't be certain, as Laura disconnected from him the moment the thunderous explosion sounded in his ears. Slimy pieces of tentacles and entrails, chunks of bone, and fragments of teeth rained down on them all as he raised a hand to prevent most of it from getting into his hair.

"Eeeuuugh," Noct groaned, also raising an arm over his head.

"My perfectly groomed hair! Thanks, Iggy," Prompto said sarcastically, but as Ignis looked over and saw a genuine smile of gratitude spreading over his face, Ignis smiled slightly, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the sentiment.

"Saved our asses yet again, Specs. Thanks," Noct said with a slap to the back as he waded past toward the door of the tomb.

"Happy to help," he replied, rushing ahead as best he could to check on Laura.

He found her precisely where he'd last seen her—hidden among the mossy roots a few yards off to the side of the tomb's door, her eyes clear and present and full of pride.

"You did it," she laughed, flinging her arms around his neck as he approached. He settled his hands on her hips and breathed in that comforting pine-kithairon scent, drowning out the stench of the malboro as she placed her nose in the hollow of his throat and inhaled deeply.

"Is it done? Can you reestablish the connection?" he murmured against the top of her head.

 _I think it's safe now, yes._

Feeling her mindscape for any evidence of trauma left over from the death of the malboro, he asked, _Are you all right?_

 _Don't worry about me. The malboro was the least of our issues today with all of you running through my head._

 _Why was it him in particular who was powerful enough to break through your shields, of all the threads of the universes?_ he asked, pulling back so they could join the others in the tomb.

 _There were others calling out. So many of you went blind or were dying in Altissia, and I suppose I've been getting flashes of them these past weeks. His is merely the strongest, perhaps because he's here right now, perhaps because his despair is the greatest. I don't know._

As they both contemplated the other man's fate, Ignis was surprised to see just how much faith Laura had in him, even without her influence, to fully recover his mobility, his combat skills, his usefulness, if not his eyesight itself.

 _I keep trying to tell you: that which you've accomplished is merely a result of your genius, dedication, and hard work,_ she said fondly. _It's had little to do with me; I'm just your teacher._

"Hey Ignis," Noct asked in a thoughtful tone as the two of them sloshed carefully through the open stone doorway. "How many Royal Arms are there?"

Ignis blinked in surprise. "As many as there have been kings, although not all of them have survived to this day. This is the last that we know of—unless we're able to meet with Lord Ravus and procure your father's glaive."

"But these eleven, maybe the twelve, will represent all the kings in the Ring?"

"I would imagine so. I'd hate to think that the rest would bow out merely because their effigies were lost to time."

"So which one was your grandpa? He only died like, thirty years ago, right?" Prompto asked. "The Wise? The Conqueror? Come to think of it, I don't remember learning about his uh . . . special name in school."

Noct's eyes widened as they shot to Ignis's. "Uh . . . I dunno. Ig?"

"King Mors never received an appellation, and I'm afraid the Marshal didn't know where he was entombed. That information was likely lost with your father."

"I wish we knew what happened to Luna's trident," Noct sighed, holding a hand out over the representation of the Katana of the Warrior.

Ignis had to close his eyes to collect himself for a moment when the katana sliced through Noct's chest, but it merely transferred the sight of the weapons circling his brother like vultures here in the present to the vision of them stabbing him violently as he convulsed on the throne in the future—Lady Lunafreya's trident and His Majesty's glaive included. But as Ignis opened his eyes to tell Noct not to worry about the trident, that they would likely find the tomb of the Oracle King on the way to Gralea somehow, he took note of Noct's expression—the resigned resolve and determination of a grown man who knew precisely what was coming for him. Had Noct always appeared this way when receiving a new power, or had Ignis's chat with him yesterday regarding King Regis's words made the difference?

Either way, the sight of those blazing eyes broke Ignis's heart.

 _Does he know?_ he asked, his attention still arrested by how Noct held his hand over the point of contact, his eyes cast down and his lips parted in pain and awe in equal measure. Ignis lamented for all that had happened to his brother these past sixteen years to transform that soft, boyish expression from their youth into that of a hardened, burdened king.

He had to remind himself—they still had plenty of time to fix this when the five of them returned from Gralea.

 _I've been wondering that myself since Keycatrich, but it's not as though I could ask him._

"All right, let's haul ass," Gladio said. "Never thought I'd be glad to get back to that cramped shower cubicle that thirty other people already been showerin' in."

"Hey, how you guys doing with that universal thing?" Prompto asked quietly, snaking an arm around Laura's shoulder as they waded out of the swamp.

Laura gave him a tender smile. "It's going to be all right. Thanks for asking. Like Ignis said, I'm pretty sure the situation will resolve itself the farther we get from here."

As putrid sludge made way to twisted tree roots and cracked rock, Ignis kept his mind wide open to Laura, curious to hear from the other man that had gone through so much today.

 _I don't think he'll be contacting us again,_ she said with a swell of pride. _He gave them all a piece of his mind just after they got the katana. There weren't any group hugs or anything, but I believe he started the healing process for all of them._

 _I would appreciate it if you would share with me if you hear from him again. I find myself interested to know of his fate._

She nodded, but said, _As I said, there are many yous that suffered that particular injury in Altissia. Their fates run the gamut, but I'm proud of all of them. It looks like most of them will manage to pick themselves up to become fierce fighters again. I don't know about him, in particular, though._

Dread filled his chest as a question popped into his mind, but instead of allowing it through their connection, he let it settle like a heavy fog for a moment as he sidestepped the lush green underbrush. He needed to know. Becoming a vessel for the Kings of Yore had been a very real consideration for him once. He'd expected to die the moment his objective had been achieved, but if the others hadn't . . .. _Was that a possible fate for me? This me? I wouldn't ask, but now that I look back on our history together, it seems as though you were preparing me for the possibility._

"Oof," Prompto grunted as he caught his stride after tripping on a raised root. Slapping lightly at Noct's shoulder, he said gently, "So, we gettin' off the train in Tenebrae?"

Laura looked up sharply at Ignis. _No. There were . . . allusions to either you or Prompto somehow going blind, but prophecies can be interpreted so many ways that I didn't dwell on the idea. Teaching you to fight as I did was coincidental; it's standard practice among those who possess Intuition as you do. No. I think the choice for this you was always between life and death._

"Yeah," Noct said quietly. "Think I need to. And if Ravus is there, gotta get my dad's sword."

Another question floated up in his mind as they finally reached the base of the rock ledges that would lead them to the elevator—a question he would _never_ voice to her, no matter how much it plucked at his sense of morbid curiosity. Besides, his ample imagination was capable of conjuring several scenarios for his death on that day.

"Maybe you guys can pick up some of those berries you guys are so obsessed with," Gladio said, turning back toward Ignis and Laura with a crooked smile as they walked up the path that led to the elevator.

"As long as we don't linger too long," Ignis replied. "The First Secretary arranged for this charade of the train being broken down to cover for us while we're down here, but it would look suspicious a second time."

The barred metal doors creaked shut as Prompto pushed the button that would take them back up. Though the sun had already set, Ignis was looking forward to fresh breezes, open air, and the lights of civilization—of a sort. As the pressure in his ears began to shift at their ascent, however, his vision unexpectedly shimmered, and Rose's wave of sickening horror left him staggering back to press himself against the bars as he struggled to keep his feet beneath him.

The pain of the powers were all searing the man's synapses at once, Ignis knew—time and fire and ice and lightning—far too much power for his physical frame to hold, so he was releasing it in bursts of magic on his enemy—warping and casting with reckless abandon in a futile attempt to batter the immortal into submission. But the man suddenly seemed to falter as the Chancellor took a step back from his furious blades.

His alternate self staggered three steps forward before collapsing to one knee and crumpling face-first onto a hard stone floor in painful, heaving gasps. The dark metal of the Ring of the Lucii stood out starkly against the pale, ashy skin of his outstretched fingers as he desperately reached out toward the Chancellor—whether in supplication or one final effort to tear his throat out, Ignis couldn't be certain.

 _Ignis!_ Laura screamed in dread. _No!_

* * *

"Noct," Ignis groaned, his failing breath hitching on a sob.

"Oooh, for a moment, I felt death's chill wind," the Chancellor crooned patronizingly, sauntering toward the prostrate man, "but then I remembered I'm immortal. Such is my blessing and my curse." Yanking Ignis's head up by a handful of hair, he met his eyes with a deceivingly compassionate smile. "At least you won't have to spend your last moments alone. As luck would have it, your beloved Noctis is on his way to save you as we speak."

Ignis bared his teeth in a grimace of agony and anguish as the Chancellor thrust his reeling head to flop weakly back onto his arm

"I wonder what he'll do when he sees his friend's life fade before his eyes," the Chancellor said with a wicked sneer. "That's why I needed you. With the Crystal and the Ring, the boy has everything he needs right here."

* * *

 _Let him go, love,_ Ignis pleaded to Laura, letting her feel his fear. _I know what you're going to do. Don't. He would be the first to tell you not to suffer for his sake._

Tears streamed down Ignis's ruined cheeks as he reached out desperately toward the Chancellor.

"I don't want to die alone," he sobbed.

* * *

As his alternate self's vision began to fade, Ignis knew well what would happen next, as he'd once experienced the very same phenomenon. As the man reached out with his hand, so too, would he reach out with his mind in a frantic effort to cling to this life. And because of their bad luck or location or whatever fate that seemed so interested in tormenting them, Laura would be in the unique position to hold him as he lost his tenuous grip on life.

And she would do so—no amount of pleading or demanding would stop her, he knew.

He had just enough time to send her a vehement denial, laced with his frustration and irritation, before he was thrown forcefully from the connection.

* * *

The salty tears sent streams of scorching fire down his cheeks, peeling away the loose flakes of ashy skin to fall on the arm serving as his pillow. It was as though his life force were being pulled down a drain. He could feel the Ring sucking the embers of what was left of him as his sight darkened—could feel the fuel of his life's energy being devoured as the pyre for his own corpse.

Overwhelming despair clutched his soul at the thought that this lifetime of suffering had all been for naught. Noct would still die, likely believing that Ignis had lost his life to the Ring because he'd had the audacity to reach above his station. Ignis's humblest desire would never come to fruition—to see his brother become the great king he was always destined to be. But why was the cost of losing a battle to an immortal man death, anyway? With victory or defeat, he no longer recalled what he'd hoped to gain when he'd brought the Old Kings into this battle against an Old False King with his mortal flesh as the instrument of delivery.

As much as he didn't wish to die alone, he couldn't say that he didn't deserve such a fate after what he'd rashly done. Ignis was but a servant; what right did he have to question the will of the gods as he had? Here was the torment of their judgment for having the arrogance to attempt to defy them. Still, the smallest part of him that he'd always kept carefully tethered beneath a veneer of composure wanted to wail in lamentation, to rage and rail against this fate which had left him with no other choice.

With a soft, shuddering sigh of smoke, he reached out in supplication, begging for someone, anyone, to be with him as he passed—as much as he didn't deserve the luxury.

The sudden absence of agony disoriented him for a moment as he felt the curious sensation of gentle, questing fingers threading through his hair, and he opened his eyes to find himself not in Zegnautus Keep, but a soft, warm featureless white space. Was this death? If so, it wasn't nearly as cold and excruciating as he'd been expecting all his life.

 _Ignis, you beautiful, foolish man,_ a woman's voice echoed through his mind, and he turned his head to look up . . . into the face of the stranger—inhumanly beautiful and sparkling in an aura of divine gold—whose lap he was apparently lying in.

"Forgive me,"he somehow managed to say as he struggled to sit up off her, but he found he couldn't move. "I seem to be unable to—"

"Shh," she soothed, stroking through his hair in a gesture of comfort he found he didn't wish to shy away from. Despite his unfamiliarity with this realm, this woman, he felt as though he _knew_ her somehow. "Just relax. It'll be over soon," she added, bringing the hand that wasn't cradling his neck down to caress his cheek as her eyes welled with tears.

 _Please, don't weep for my sake,_ he wanted to say to the goddess, because it felt so wrong to see the deep sorrow in her eyes for his loss. But even with his last breaths, he chose to know instead— "Who are you?"

"Oh, my love," she said with a watery chuckle. "You are so very precious to me."

Ignis had often heard of the cliché that a man's life flashed before his eyes as he died, but the flickering images that poured into his mind were certainly of a life he'd never lived. As the heart-swelling, overwhelming love he'd always dreamed of but never experienced broke over him like an incandescent sunrise, he saw himself smiling with the four friends that became his true family, laughing with her, _loving_ her—this vision of divinity—with his humble flesh.

"You're mine?" he gasped in disbelief.

"Utterly and completely," she said, smiling softly, sadly, as she brushed the hair from his eyes.

So somewhere out there in the universes, there was a version of him living this life, being there to support Noct through the rest of his journey, working together with this goddess to save him from his cruel fate. Even if this body turned to ash, knowing that some form of him would live on, carrying out his duty and living this life he'd never dreamed to deserve soothed the scars on his soul, even as he lay here dying in her arms. If there was _anything_ at all she could bring back with her to that utopia that could help, Ignis would give his last breath, even his last few seconds of this loving embrace, to assist them—to assist Noct.

"The Chancellor," he exhaled on a failing breath, "Founder King's brother, False King."

"Shh. I understand. You've done enough, Ignis, and you were so very brave," she murmured before kissing the tips of her fingers and brushing them over his lips. "There's no more pain. Just rest now. I promise to stay with you."

Once again, Ignis found his vision darkening against his will, that pulling sensation growing more insistent against his chest as he fought to cling to this all-encompassing admiration and adoration that had _never_ in his life been focused so solely on him. All this time, he'd loved her, missed her as he'd secretly nursed that unnamable hole in his heart, and he'd never known her face until the moment of death. Finally, he knew true peace, true calm, tucked away as he was in her soul and bathing in her golden light.

As he was ripped away from what he could only describe as his paradise, one last thought echoed in his head before it too dripped and drained away.

 _Remember that you are so very loved._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Okay, a few things. First of all, this is a combination of the old version of Chapter 10 and the updated version. Things have also been cut and stitched together so we aren't running around to all the different machines.

I never knew the titles to the Episode Ignis soundtrack until recently, and thanks to NightysWolf and the reddit Discord, I got to learn of the English titles and Japanese translations, completely transforming the soundtrack into diary entries written by Ignis himself. It was certainly a heart-wrenching experience that inspired that final scene—Badge of Honor, in particular. I took language from those titles to use as Ignis's thoughts. There is also language taken from Gorecki, by Lamb.

The English localization of the game does some rather interesting things to the translation—nowhere more than Episode Ignis. I used the French and German localizations in a couple of odd spots in the Altissia chapters, and as you probably noticed, in the "I don't want to die alone" line.


	70. Chapter 70

**Author's Note:**

Minor angst—wrapping up from the last chapter. Some words taken again from Gorecki, by Lamb.

* * *

The first thing that Ignis did as his eyes shot open wide was check the bridge and her thread—locked tight and dormant, but shining and alive—much as it typically was during a hunt when she was too close to their quarry. It was only on blinking again that his brain began to register his surroundings, and he was quite bewildered to find himself sitting in the corner of the rusty elevator, his legs stretched out and Noct's concerned face hovering inches from his.

"Iggy! What's wrong?"

"It's gotta be the head shit," Ignis heard Gladio say, but he couldn't see him past Prompto's fretting form shifting back and forth between him and the other corner of the elevator.

Ignis scrambled to get his feet beneath him long enough to stumble past Prompto, push Gladio out of the way, and fall to his knees in front of Laura.

"Yes, it is," he said tonelessly, reaching out to cup her bloodless cheek as he examined her sightless eyes, covered in a sheen of tears.

"You were so very brave. There's no more pain," she mumbled in that faraway voice she'd been using all day today.

Biting down on the anger and frustration swelling in his chest, he leaned close to her and said in a low, urgent voice, "Astrals, Rose, don't do this, please. He's going to hurt you."

But he knew that even if he screamed at the top of his lungs and mind for her to stop this, she either couldn't, or most likely wouldn't, listen. Still, he had to try and bring her back before the other man faded. Grasping at her golden thread, he reached deep within himself, calling on the magic that would compel her to come to him.

As the other three took a hurried step forward, crowding around them, Noct growled, "What the hell, Iggy?"

"Did you just . . . regroup us?" Prompto asked in surprise.

"Just rest now. I promise to stay with you," Laura whispered.

"Apologies," Ignis replied, keeping his eyes locked on Laura's pained expression. "I had to try."

Gladio blew out a frustrated breath through his nose. "This isn't an episode. What the fuck is going on, Ignis?"

Casting aside his own mounting irritation for the moment, Ignis put a hand on Laura's shoulder, leaning her forward before wedging himself between her body and the front corner of the elevator. He'd experienced this process firsthand precisely once in his life, and he knew from that incident that touch—an anchor back to one's own body—would be the best medicine for her right now. Her head flopped back against his shoulder as he settled her hips between his legs and wrapped his arms around her middle and chest. Yes, doubtless he'd be carrying her from this place—again.

"These episodes have been me," Ignis said, resting his chin on her shoulder and rocking her back and forth. He could feel her labored breath picking up its pace as her ribcage pushed against his arm, and he pursed his lips at this sign that the process had begun. It seemed that, like a sabertusk, she wouldn't let go of him even when it would be far better for her in the long run to do so. "I've been reaching out in every alternate universe, and in that one . . . I'm dying. As Laura did with His Majesty, she's holding him as he dies, but it's causing her a great deal pain."

He stated the facts flatly, coldly, with no embellishments and no words in defense of his other self. That the man had dragged his wife into this, had practically begged her to share in his repercussions, was wrong on so many levels that Ignis almost hoped the others would condemn his alternate self as much as he currently was. And yet . . . he imagined how easily it could have been him facing death in this moment—having never met her, never experiencing love, never being truly appreciated, never experiencing the freedom of expressing himself. As much as he detested the idea of pitying this man, of pitying himself, he did in fact feel the smallest stirrings of it.

Perhaps the neutrality of his statements would allow the others to form their own opinions on the matter, and then he could begin to work through his own swirl of contradicting thoughts.

"Is there something we can do for . . . you?" Noct asked, his face screwing up in consternation. "I mean . . . the other you? Can we save you? What happened?"

"Suffice it to say that there's nothing that can be done for him," he replied, loosening his grip somewhat on Laura at a particularly sharp heave of her chest.

He decided they needn't be made aware of the precise circumstances behind his other self's death. There were boundaries, after all, to what one's closest family should know, and Ignis was certain he couldn't bear to witness his actions being judged—either as heroic, cowardly, or villainous. In fact, being deemed any one of the three were all nearly equally disturbing outcomes. No, this didn't need to be shared. It hardly mattered what this man's motives had been; he was living out the consequences for taking a chance and failing.

Laura's gasps were coming more quickly now, wheezing in her throat as she tried to pull more air into her lungs, so he removed the arm around her chest to stroke gently at her hair, resting his lips near her ear.

"Come back to me, please," he whispered.

How many times would he wind up pleading with her like this?

Blind panic was emanating from her . . . through _him_ , Ignis could feel it—those first stages of telepathic death when one is experiencing precisely what the condemned is feeling. For Ignis, it had been the cold steel of the polearm that he'd hurled at the quetzalcoatl piercing his own chest, the frigid ice spell hitting him in the face and spreading numbness to his extremities. He recalled with perfect clarity how it seemed as though his heart squeezed painfully around the sharp blade several times before it ceased beating, how it took several more seconds for the neurons in his brain to slow in firing. Just before Rose had realized what was happening and cut off the connection, Ignis had had just enough time to feel the agony and hysteria of the creature, intelligent enough to realize what was happening, as his own.

This, however, would likely be far worse; the aftermath of his alternate's death would probably be more traumatic than when she'd held the King's mind. What would the death of an alternate version of her bondmate do to her? To them? And what could he do about it? Astrals, how he despised this uselessness!

"M' 'ere, love," she slurred in a whisper between panting breaths. "You're not . . . alone."

"What about her? What's this all about?" Gladio asked.

Ignis blinked in surprise, looking up at the three worried faces staring back down at them. Had she really never told them? Perhaps Prompto had been right—perhaps they did need to schedule weekly updates.

"She feels the death of every living creature as though it were her own, if she's too near. Though she can choose to disconnect from this pain for humans," and it was here he couldn't help but clench his jaw tight at the wave of irritation that swept over him before continuing, "she's elected not to, in this case, in order to stay with him."

"Is she gonna be okay? Can we do something?" Prompto asked, bending low and holding a hesitant hand out toward her.

"Yes," he said with a nod of permission. "Touch her. Let her know she's not alone."

"Neither are you," Gladio said, crouching down to take Laura's limp hand and clap his other around Ignis's shoulder.

As Ignis took a moment to look at each of them in turn, each of them holding their hands out to support both him and Rose, his heart swelled at the words pushing to the forefront of his mind—comrades, friends, brothers, family—all of them. Perhaps this had happened in other universes where Laura never existed, perhaps it hadn't, but as far as he was concerned, she'd done this—brought them together like this. And while he'd said much the same to Noct only yesterday, he was surprised to find that it didn't seem to be _only_ Noct that they were here for, that they were willing to support.

"Thank you," he said in quiet wonder before whispering to the wall between him and Rose, _I'm completely furious with you, you know, but we're here. We're all here._

No one had to be connected to her mind to know the precise moment his other self died, as she went rigid in his arms, throwing her head back with all her strength as her sightless eyes shot open—popping and rolling in their sockets.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she drew in a deep breath and let it out on a visceral scream, "IGNIS!" And as her body's tension eased, she took another deep breath and released it on a heart-shattering sob. "Oh, my gods," she cried, turning to weep openly into his shoulder, her tears seeping into his muddy, entrail-covered shirt. "Ignis, no."

Useless as he felt, all Ignis could do was continue to rock her back and forth and stroke her hair.

"Fuck," Gladio muttered under his breath. "She knows _you're_ not dead, right?"

Ignis opened his mouth to answer, paused to consider, then closed it again. She had said, 'Is it really you? Are you mine?' So she was likely having trouble distinguishing between universes. This reaction certainly was powerful enough that she may, in fact, believe it was the true him that was dying, and not an alternate.

"I—I'm not certain," he said in a low voice before lowering his head to breathe into her ear, "Please, Rose. Just open your mind; I'm all right. I'm right here."

"We should get her to the room," Gladio said quietly over the sound of her sobs. Ignis looked up to see him glaring through the bars of the elevator—which had long since arrived at the platform—at the twenty or so people gathered around them, gawking and eavesdropping. "The problem might be this area, right? Sooner . . . the uh, 'train gets fixed,' the sooner we can get the hell outta here."

Taking his meaning, Ignis pulled Laura into his lap, cradling her in his arms so he could get to his feet.

"Right."

"How many times are we gonna have to carry her outta places like this?" Prompto asked, shaking his head as he pressed the button that would re-open the doors.

"So, that's why she never did the hunts," Noct said under his breath.

The four of them froze as the doors opened, waiting for the shop vendors and other train passengers to clear a path for them.

"Really though, is she gonna be okay once we get her to the train?" Noct asked as they wove their way through the throng.

Looking down at Laura and noting that her sobs had quieted to silent tears, Ignis deduced that she was likely in the second stage of this process—the quiet stillness of mind-death. He had only experienced this sensation for less than a minute as Noct and Prompto had hovered over him that day—until Laura had recovered enough to yank him out of the connection. In a way, it was the most peaceful part of the process—when the terror and pain disappeared, yielding to tranquil acceptance. The most difficult process was yet to come, and one he hadn't experienced himself—realizing that her body was still alive and that she had to claw her way out of death's maw to return to it. At the very least, he supposed, the feeling was merely an illusion; true death from the experience wasn't possible, so her life wasn't truly in danger.

"Eventually, yes," Ignis said as they reached the platform and headed past the shop carts toward the Magna Fortia. "She'll need rest and a warm meal—something easy on her digestion."

"She's not gonna get that second one on the train. Dining car's got cockatrice nuggets, boxed mashed potatoes, and canned peas. Stuff's nasty," Gladio said with a grimace. "Will she be up to pullin' stuff outta her Pocket, ya think?"

"I'd rather make her something specific to this scenario. I'll have to see what I can manage. There's just so much to do," he replied with a sigh, turning sideways as he stepped up with her into the car. He stopped at the top of the steps, ensuring that Gladio nodded to the station master standing on the platform before boarding.

"All set," Gladio said, climbing up the steps and shouldering past them so he could open the compartment door for them. But instead of allowing them through first, he stepped through the door, dropping to the floor and scooting back against the wall.

"She's not as much of a mess as you, Ig," he said, holding his arms out. "Prop her up here while you get in the shower. Spazzy and Sleepy, you two can fight over who gets to take the shower in the other sleeping car."

"Are you certain?" Ignis asked, leaning to deposit her carefully in Gladio's embrace.

Gladio leaned her back against his chest, straightening her limp neck while Ignis arranged her arms. "Pretty used holding her unconscious by now. Pretty used to bein' slimy, too. Go on."

Ignis didn't waste a spare second to see who would take the other shower, instead rushing to the cramped restroom behind the last door of their compartment, stripping himself free of his caked and slimy uniform, summoning his shower shoes, and stepping into the mildewy cubicle with only the slightest stirring of revulsion.

He returned to find Gladio and Prompto, still filthy, holding Laura's hands as they sat on the floor of the car, and though he suppressed the tender smile that seemed to want to overtake his expression, he couldn't help the slightest twitch of his lips.

"I'd like to change her into something more comfortable, if you wouldn't mind waiting outside, please," he said quietly.

"Yeah, no prob. I'll go wait for Noct to come out," Prompto said, jumping to his feet. He stopped in the doorway, holding out a hand toward the laundry bag dangling from Ignis's fingers. "Maybe I can convince him to help with the laundry, too. We'll come get Laura's after you're done."

"That would be a feat," Ignis replied wryly, handing over the bag. "Thank you."

"Sure, Iggy. You comin', big guy?"

Gladio had already gotten to his feet with a groan, propping Laura carefully against the wall of the car before turning toward the door. "Yeah. Just let us know if you need anything, eh?"

When the door had shut behind them, Ignis crouched down beside Laura and opened his mind to their connection as widely as he could, suffusing it with warmth in the hopes that she would realize he was still alive and come back to him all that much more quickly. Starting at her thighs, he quickly undid the buckles of her muck-covered boots before loosening the laces, pulling them off one by one, and setting them aside. After pressing his thumbs into the arches of her feet for a brief minute, he removed her stockings, belt, and jacket quickly and efficiently, accustomed as he was by now with undressing her limp body.

"Who would've thought the skills I'd amass on this journey, Rose? You've been far too much trouble for me, I fear," he said gently, though he still couldn't decide if it was amusement or frustration dominating his emotions at the moment.

It wasn't until he gripped the zipper tab between his thumbs and pulled it down to reveal her body that he had to pause to collect himself. No matter how long he lived, he would never forget the sight of her skin—pale and blue with death, freezing cold, and ripped apart from a day of savage battle. He recalled with perfect clarity how her entire body seemed to shimmer with her opalescent blood, how every rent and tear, swollen and infected, seemed to glow in that strange, alien, purple-green.

It had quite easily been the worst experience of his life.

Ignis shook his head, clearing it of the horrific image as he pulled her up to stand and peeled the suit off her completely undamaged body. She'd always hated her Kingsglaive uniform—it didn't represent a lifetime of fealty to her King as it had, at one point, for other Glaives, and it was far too difficult to get in and out of. He'd once grown irritated with her grousing and asked her why she continued to wear it if she hated it so much; after all, they'd all worn other clothing at times. Of course, her answer only served to inspire his admiration for her all the more—that the inconvenience was worth it if it meant belonging to the group. Once they'd begun their . . . extracurricular activities after their daily sparring matches and foraging trips, however, they'd both realized the appeal of other apparel that allowed him better access to her body.

She wasn't nearly as filthy as the rest of them had been, so Ignis allowed her to fall naked onto their bed as he pulled the suit free of her legs. Turning to the sink, which was little more than a spigot with a basin just large enough to catch the stream, he wet a cloth, wrung it out, and gently wiped her body free of sweat. He worked quickly, hating to get her wet, as her skin felt cold enough beneath his hands from her brush with mock-death.

As he summoned a pair of loose-fitting trousers and an enormous, luxuriously soft black sweater to put on her, he could feel the tension building in his mind as he continued to call for her—she was surfacing, slowly but surely. Still reeling over what she'd done, he quietly wondered at what he'd done to secure such a powerful devotion that she would be willing to experience this. It was rare these days that he questioned his worthiness of her; she had reassured him of her love so completely that it made the question of worth irrelevant. Still, her dedication seemed a bit excessive; he hadn't realized that her reverence would extend to his alternate selves as well. He could only hope that though they'd all suffered greatly, they'd managed to take care of her and leave her mind intact. He would find out soon enough, he supposed.

Ignis lay down next to her in their bunk, pulling her nearly on top of him in a way he'd grown far too accustomed to doing back in Altissia. But he breathed deep, feeling her heartbeats and steady breath beneath his hands as he closed his eyes to better concentrate on her glimmering thread. He managed to contain his fury and keep it from the forefront of his thoughts as he continued to plead for her to return, but he couldn't help that flash of anger that shot through him unbidden when she finally surfaced—gasping for breath as she arched her back against his hold.

"We're both all right. You're here with me," he murmured softly, running his hands up and down her spine as she worked to calm herself, and _finally_ , that barrier between their minds softened, allowing him to wrap himself tightly around her grieving and nauseated thoughts.

"Ignis."

"Rose, you absolute lunatic, do you have any idea how furious I am with you?" he said quietly, squeezing her close when she relaxed back onto his chest, but he wanted to shout it at her, to shake her and demand that she never do something so reckless for something as trivial as his comfort again. This wasn't quite as grave a misjudgment as the one she'd made when he was nine, as she hadn't directly put herself in danger of losing her life. But it was grievous enough after they'd only just had a conversation about sharing the load. What would happen if she ignored his request so deliberately while the gods were after them?

Her eyes cracked open to glare up at him. "What did you want me to do? Leave him there to die alone? When he was specifically pleading not to? He took his promise to Regis too seriously—to the point where he no longer cared what happened to the world—but he didn't deserve his fate. I gave him every trace of comfort I could spare to ease the injustice of it, and I'd do it again if it meant you'd never have to die alone like that."

"You deliberately went against my direct request—"

"You don't outrank me."

"And what of your duty to Noct? What if the Empire had learned of our position while we were down there, and you'd placed me in the position of choosing between him and you? You know what my choice would have to be," he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly on his last sentence.

" _Someone_ has to protect you, as you're obviously a damn fool and won't do it yourself."

"Clearly, the same goes for you, but you won't _let_ me. How can we win this if you won't let me?"

She closed her eyes and snapped her jaw shut, no doubt biting back every indignant thought she wanted to whip back at him, but for once, she was in the wrong—and she knew it. Of course, _he_ knew that despite being in the wrong, she still would've made the same choice, regardless.

He wasn't certain how he felt about that.

Finally, she sighed wearily, resting her lips against his chest and snuggling into him. "My promise to Regis included all of you, though admittedly not your every parallel self. Would you have forbidden me from doing the same for any of the others? For Noct? Why should you receive less consideration than anyone else?"

"You know as well as I that Noct's destiny is far greater than mine."

"And you know as well as I do that Noct isn't in danger until we get the Crystal. You saw the vision, same as me—Ardyn wants him to have the Crystal and the Ring."

Ignis held her closer, reaching up to take her clip out and weave his hand through her hair, letting it spill down his forearm. He tried his best to block out the image of himself, burned to ash and prostrated on the floor before the Chancellor, but the apparition was nearly crystal clear as he recalled the words, 'With the Crystal and the Ring, the boy has everything he needs right here.' What did that mean for them? Could Noct escape his fate simply by not going after the Crystal? But they needed it to clear the world of scourge and bring back the light. As usual, they had no choice but to walk directly into the Chancellor's trap in order to get what they needed.

With his own gentle sigh, he changed the subject, as this was getting them nowhere. "Not that I'm not most grateful to see you awake, how were you able to come back to me so much more quickly than the last two times?"

Her shoulder twitched in a shrug as she pressed her lips against his neck. "I heard your call. If there's any way in the multiverse that I can, I'll always come running when you call for me."

 _You know, I think I believe you when you say things like that._

 _Good._

"You should rest," he said, sitting up a little so he could pull out his lists to begin outlining his plans to send to the Marshal. "I can feel your exhaustion, and your mind doesn't feel quite right, either."

"I've tamped down the telepathy to just our bond," she said sleepily, snuggling into his side. "Everything's a bit . . . frazzled up in there right now."

Leaning down to press his lips to the top of her head, he said, _Then sleep, love. I have some tasks to attend to later, but I'll be here with you for now._

She hummed tunelessly in response, but he could tell that her mind was drifting too far toward sleep to fully register his words. Ignis did his best to balance his notebook against his raised knee, beginning an outline for actions to be taken against the upcoming dark and occasionally reaching down to run a hand through Laura's hair affectionately as she continued to sing softly in a faraway voice laced with sleep. _If I should die this very moment, I wouldn't fear—for I've never known completeness like being here . . . wrapped in the warmth of you, loving every breath of you._

 _As I love you,_ he whispered, feeling as though he would burst from the emotion. He stopped everything for a moment to truly breathe the emotion in, let it settle in his bones. With another deep, cleansing breath, he turned back to his work . . . centering on Lestallum today.

Lestallum would be the best city, strategically speaking, to set up a base. Its proximity to the power-supplying meteor shards would make their transportation far less dangerous than trying to get them all the way back to Insomnia, and the power plant that was indirectly responsible for providing light to all of Lucis would offer them the most complete protection from daemons during the long nights. Lucis's population had already dwindled, but changes would have to be made to the city to make it habitable for the influx of people—fortifications would need to be set up, current houses split to fit more families, new houses built.

Though he'd already informed the Marshal of the need for canning now while it was still possible to yield crops, additional measures would have to be taken. Perhaps Gladio would know a thing or two about urban farming. The setup would need to be rather complex, however, as foods rich in vitamin D mostly involved seafood, so animal husbandry would also need to be implemented. And what of the ecosystems? Rose had implied she could do something to prevent them from dying off, but how could she sustain the entire planet when they lost daylight completely? For how long would they need to sustain themselves?

He'd just finished a rough outline of his plans for Lestallum and was about to move on to Caem when Rose's mind perked to half consciousness, saying, _Ignis . . . Ardyn, Founder King's brother._

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Ignis asked when Noct opened their compartment door three hours later. He'd seen neither hide nor hair of the three since they'd taken the laundry and run off to make an attempt at doing it, though he had received several texts requesting information on how to use the train's washing machine. He didn't _want_ to know what that implied for the state of their laundry, so he'd decided that it would be best not to ask.

Noct didn't answer until he'd climbed the ladder to the bunk above theirs and let out a long, weary sigh. Ignis suspected this was likely so he wouldn't be able watch Noct's expression as he said, "I'm fine, Specs. How's Laura?"

Reluctantly allowing Noct to change the subject he said, "The same. She'll likely sleep through the night, though I can't be certain. I was about to head to the dining car to see if I might convince Paul to allow me the use of his facilities tomorrow before dining hours begin. I'd like to avoid another meal of cockatrice nuggets if I can help it. Would you mind terribly watching over her?"

"Umm . . . yeah, sure," Noct replied, and once Ignis had gently extricated himself from her embrace, letting his lips linger on her forehead for a moment before pulling away, he stood to find the Prince reluctantly squirming his way out of the bunk.

"You don't have to hold her as Prompto and Gladio do, you know."

"N—No, it's all right. Least I can do, right?" he said bitterly, jumping to the floor. He hesitated, his hands awkwardly fidgeting in front of him in a way that reminded Ignis of Prompto, before he finally sat down on the edge of the bed and hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder.

Ignis wanted to chuckle in amusement at Noct's reticence, but the tone took first priority. "You realize it's not your fault, Noc—"

"I know it's not," he interrupted, screwing his eyes tight and shaking his head in frustration. "But somehow, it's all my family's fault. Ardyn . . . Somnus Lucis Caelum's brother. I just wish that jackass was feeling up to sharing—or any the deities hanging around. They had to know about this, right? Why didn't they tell me? Even Gentiana—I thought she was our friend."

"I don't know," he replied, his voice turning to stone, "but we _will_ get answers from someone. Demand them if we have to, even if it's from the gods themselves."

Noct turned his head away, looking down at Laura, and said so softly that Ignis had to tilt his head to hear him properly. "You've changed so much, Iggy. You used to be so . . . I dunno, respectful of authority."

"It's not because of her," Ignis said immediately, somewhat offended by the assumption. "I've always had a bit of a rebellious streak, if you'll recall."

"The painting in the Hall of History. All those times sneaking out. And . . . ha! That incident with Umbra and the canapes at the Council Banquet," he said with a fond smile, until it dropped into wistful regret. "And you always took the fall. I always thought you were so perfect—that your reputation could stand the bruising." He winced at the final word before looking down at his lap and mumbling, "I'm sorry."

"Noct—" Ignis began, but Noct cut him off again.

"I'm gonna make it up to you, all of you, one of these days. I swear. I'm gonna be the king you all need."

Ignis hesitated, thinking his answer over carefully. "While it's true that Lucis needs its King, do remember that we are your family—albeit one you've chosen. Family doesn't require recompense; we will stand by you, always."

Noct's gaze drifted to the bottom of the bunk above his head, seemingly lost in though. "Thanks, Iggy. You'd better go before Paul closes up shop for the night."

* * *

The sun hadn't yet risen when he finally felt Laura awaken, though had these been happier days, the dawn would've been shining forth with her rosy fingers just has Homer had described. Unconscious and recuperating as she was, Ignis hadn't joined her in their dream world, instead choosing to hold her through the remaining aftershocks of his other selves reaching out as they grew more and more infrequent. He certainly hoped circumstances went more smoothly today in Tenebrae, as he hadn't had a restful night's sleep since before Pitioss, and it was finally beginning to wear him down.

Stifling a yawn, Ignis reached over to his can of Ebony—his third that morning—for another sip. He had just put the finishing touches on breakfast—Kettier ginger soup and toast made from bread that was practically forcibly donated from Paul's personal stores—when her thread brightened in his head.

 _Good morning, love. How ever did you manage to convince Paul to let you use his kitchen before dining hours? Was it flirting or bribery?_

Much to his relief, he'd needed to neither bribe nor flirt with the proprietor, as Paul had been only too happy to donate his facilities and personal stores once he'd learned that Laura was ill. Heavens knows where she'd found the time to make such a connection with the man between her episodes and convalescence, but at some point, she'd managed to ask him about his life and his family, and had even taken the time to offer tips on improving his olive polenta loaf. As Ignis sliced the bread to begin making toast, he glanced back at the empty counter. He could imagine her standing there, leaning over the dark wooden surface with her sparkling smile.

 _Neither. Apparently, he's an admirer of yours. He sends his regards and informs me that he is most grateful for your epicureal advice._

 _Ha! There's no way Paul used the word 'epicureal.' Did he mention if he was able to contact his daughter? He's been eager to get to Tenebrae so he can check on Jocelyn himself._

 _No, but he said to tell you that his husband was able to secure a job there. He received word yesterday in Cartanica._

 _Oh, good. I hope Jeremiah was able to get that position at the manor. Paul would be able to quit his traveling job and move there permanently. He wants to work somewhere he can be allowed to cook real food._

As Ignis portioned out the soup into five bowls, he said, _Would you mind awakening the others? Breakfast is nearly ready._

 _Already done. Gladio was already awake, Prompto's having issues with there being no sun, and you know how Noct is. We'll be along shortly._

By the time Ignis had finished washing the dishes, wiping the kitchen surfaces he'd used, and setting the food at one of the booth tables, the others were staggering in to take their seats. Laura looked up at him as she squeezed into the seat across with Noct and Prompto, and though her face was still colorless, it lit up as her eyes met his.

 _Hey,_ she said with a soft smile. _Thank you for last night—and for this. It smells wonderful._

 _The pleasure is mine. Remember that we take care of each other._

"So—we'll be stopping in Tenebrae today," Ignis began, pulling their travel papers from his jacket pocket and handing out each to their appropriate owner. "Weskham was kind enough to procure these for us to allow us to travel freely in the Empire."

"Been in the Empire for a couple of days now, and no one's asked for anything," Gladio pointed out.

"I was told we likely wouldn't be asked for them until Gralea, but it seemed prudent to pass them out beforehand. Be sure to keep them on your person, and remember, our cover is that we're here to study Gralea's unique culinary traditions."

"Sounds kinda lame," Prompto winced. "I mean, you've had the food here . . .."

Laura snorted in agreement before saying, "You'd be better off claiming us to be a visual kei group."

"Apologies, a what?" Ignis asked, furrowing his brow.

Prompto nearly leapt out of his seat, raising his hand in excitement. "Oooh, yeah! Visual kei! I wanna be the lead guitarist."

"No way!" Noct laughed. "If anyone's gonna be the lead guitarist, it's gonna be me."

"Fine, I'll take drums, then."

"We can't claim ourselves musicians. That cover story would fall apart the moment they asked us to play something," Ignis argued.

Laura leaned forward to stare pointedly over at Noct, who was making a disgusted face as he let a spoonful of soup splatter slowly back into his bowl. "If they're really digging that deep into our cover story, your 'culinary students' scenario is going to cause just as much of an issue."

"We could be paranormal investigators," Prompto suggested. "That's actually almost kinda the truth."

"Great. Ignis can be Fox, and I'll be Moulder . . . just have to find a decent red wig," Laura said with a toothy grin.

"Speaking of paranormal, we gonna talk about just what the hell really happened back there?" Gladio asked. "Seems like you two always got a hidden layer behind what's goin' on."

Laura put down her spoon, glancing at Ignis before she turned to the rest of them. "Altissia was a universal nexus, a delta of decisions resulting in hundreds of threads of reality, mostly centered around Ignis."

"But why Ignis?" Prompto asked before slurping up another spoonful of soup with an appreciative nod.

And this was the question that had been plaguing him. Why him, indeed? The charade on the altar had almost been a personal attack—one Ignis couldn't fathom a reason behind. Why had the Chancellor targeted the servant when he'd had the Crown Prince himself at his mercy? How could Ignis have possibly had so much power to influence events?

 _Don't be willfully self-deprecating. Is it really that difficult to believe? It's time you started seeing yourself as the Grand Chamberlain, Hand of the King, or whichever of the four thousand titles you Lucians use for the position. For gods' sakes, did you never make the connection that one of those men in that painting was you? You're all a part of this prophecy._

Ignis twitched an eyebrow up in surprise. He was well-familiar with the prophecy painting, having walked past it nearly every day on his way to the throne room. Since he was a child and Noct had been named Chosen, he'd identified the man receiving the blessing from the angelic figure as Noct, but he'd never really given much thought to the other three figures crouched beside him. Gods, the four of them had been hanging up on the Citadel walls since before they were born—equal parts of the prophecy.

"Likely because of his run-in with Ardyn there. It seems there were several choices he could've made that day that would've affected how everything happened," Laura replied.

"Wow, so there are like, worlds where we all died that day?" Prompto said, half as a statement, but he also raised his tone at the end, as though half asking a question.

"No," Laura said harshly. "I'll not sit here and discuss all the ways something horrible could have happened to you all. For every situation in your life where you almost died, it's likely there was a thread where it actually happened, so I'll leave that up to your own imaginations." She looked down at her empty bowl and closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I've seen enough of them for myself to know I'd rather not go looking for them."

At Laura's bleak expression and the clouds of black gathering in her mind, Ignis decided to change the topic. "The scenery is lovely," he said lamely. "It's only a shame they decided to put manufacturing plants here instead of a settlement. A city here would have been picturesque."

"It's too cold," Noct complained as he stared out the window, and Prompto nodded in agreement. "I'd take Leiden heat over this any day."

"It _is_ a tad on the frosty side for my tastes. I hear Tenebrae has a milder climate," Ignis agreed.

Gladio pushed back his bowl with a satisfied sigh. "I love the cold. It's too bad we can't get a clear view though."

"Yes, it's a shame the pollution makes the air so hazy," Laura agreed. "The mountains would remind me of the Kithairon Mountains by our home if the air were clearer."

"Wait, what? 'Our home?'" Gladio asked, narrowing his eyes at the way Laura was gazing softly up at Ignis. "You guys got a house or somethin' in that dream world of yours?"

"Yes," Ignis said, smiling tenderly back down at her. "There's a lake there with a view of the mountains quite similar to these."

"Wow, that sounds pretty," Prompto sighed.

Ignis nodded in agreement. It seemed that no matter how many exotic planets, time periods, or classes she took him to, spending time in that stunning place alone with his wife and pursuing his own interests, even if it were only for a couple of hours each evening, had become his favorite part of living—whether they chose to cook their favorite dishes together, curl up on the downy couch in front of the fire while they shared sweet kisses and stories, or work on personal projects separately. Eilendil had even joined them several times on his uppermost floor, though Ignis never did learn what exactly he did up there. Even their days alone in solidarity with one another after Altissia hadn't made the dragon any more sociable with Ignis than before.

Still, it was almost like having a family—one he'd chosen for himself.

 _Gods, I love you,_ Laura said affectionately. _I can't handle it when you start thinking about our lives like that._

 _I confess I find myself contemplating more and more what our real-world lives will be like when this is all over._

 _I can't see our future that clearly, but I have an idea,_ she said, sending him a flood of bliss. _It's going to feel like that, love. We'll make sure of it._

Indeed, they would. Unbeknownst to her, his thoughts had been turning more and more often to his grandmother's ring, sent to him by his mother when he turned twenty and been named Duke of Kettier. She'd sent it to him by courier the very morning of his entitlement ceremony—with a letter stating how proud she was of him, how she hoped to visit him one day soon, and how she hoped to perhaps meet a future Duchess of Kettier.

Drawn to the familial connection he'd never known, Ignis had carried that letter and her ring with him—quite literally through hell and high water—despite having no intentions of using it when he'd made the decision to do so. Now, however . . . his wife was chosen and completely his; the rest was merely a matter of deciding whether they wanted to undergo the trial of a ceremony for Rose's entitlement to become Duchess of Kettier.

"Sun's finally coming up," Noct said, staring out the window at the marginally brightening sky. "Later than yesterday, even."

"Yes, the reduction in daylight seems to be coming even faster since Altissia," Laura said.

"There was talk of it back in Lucis, but recent days have shown an unseasonably sharp change," Ignis agreed. "Should this trend continue, before long—"

"There won't be daylight," Noct finished. "Just like Sania's report."

"Indeed, far sooner than I'd hoped. Which reminds me, I happened to overhear a fellow passenger discussing this very same phenomenon and made an appointment to see her soon, if anyone would care to join me." Pulling out his phone to check the time, he said, "In half an hour."

"Count me in," Gladio said. "Probably won't understand half of it, knowing you guys, but I wanna hear more about what we're going up against."

"You know I'll follow you anywhere," Laura said with a grin. "Let me help you with the dishes before we go."

They had just cleared away all evidence of their private meal in the dining car by the time Paul arrived to begin his preparations for the day, greeting them all cheerfully as he turned on the deep fryers, opened enormous bags of frozen cockatrice nuggets, and started boiling water for the boxed mashed potatoes.

"Thanks for the use of the kitchen, Paul," Laura said with a sweet smile. "We'd stay and chat, but we've got an appointment to make."

"It was my pleasure. Glad to see you feeling better!" Paul said.

"You guys mind if I show up a little late? I forgot my phone in the compartment," Prompto said, pointing his thumb back toward the room.

"I don't see why not. It's only an informal conversation in the first seating car. Meet us there when you can," Ignis replied.

"Think I'm gonna stay and watch the sun," Noct said, his tone peculiar in a way Ignis couldn't identify. "Dunno how many more days we have left to see it."

"All right, better get goin' before we're late. Lead the way, Ig," Gladio said as he gestured toward the front of the train.

The passenger was waiting for them six cars up, but they had made it only four cars when the train began to slow, its wheels screeching with that metal-against-metal shriek that set Ignis's teeth on edge.

"This isn't good," Gladio muttered, leaning over a seat to look out the window. "We aren't s'posed to be stopping for a good while now."

"Something's wrong," Laura said in a low voice. For the first time since they'd brought her on the train yesterday, she spread her mind out to increase her telepathic range beyond the two of them, searching for what was plucking at her instinct.

"What is it?" Ignis asked, coming up beside her. It seemed no matter how many times she gave him access to the part of her senses that interpreted timelines and telepathy, he couldn't make anything of the disorganized cacophony, and today was no exception.

"Time," she said with a blank expression. "Time is wrong." Coming to awareness suddenly, her head shooting up to meet their eyes, she said in an urgent tone, "Both of you, go up front to check on the engineers. Summon the weapons I gave you if there's any kind of trouble; those stones will protect you. And for gods' sakes, don't go any farther back than this car, or you'll be caught in the anomaly."

"And where will you be going?" _You're only just recovering. Please don't do anything reckless._

"There's a time anomaly on this train—a sloppily-done one. I'm the only one who can traverse and fix it without getting frozen as well, and it needs to be solved before the train rips in half." _It has to be me—alone. If we lose contact with one another, it should only be for a second. I'll be all right, love. I promise._

 _Go, and be safe._


	71. Chapter 71

The unnatural stillness in the air was enough to unsettle even his nerves as he pulled back the curtain and peered through the porthole window, smirking to himself at the sight of the boy pulling a sword on his own best friend.

"SHOW YOURSELF!" the little Prince screamed as he flung the door of the compartment adjacent open.

He idly wondered how the child would react if he was successful in murdering the Clone that currently resembled his enemy . . . and there was a thought. It was a pity the Empire hadn't yet made inroads into memory transfer, else the Clone could simply be replaced—like a broken toy. There were so many enticing possibilities in that scenario, and yet . . . there was little point in wishing for an impossible world with the genius of Solheim laid to ruins.

Of course, Solheim's extinction was no longer a certainty, was it? Though he'd been too late to visit the interdimensional gates that had opened and closed so briefly back in Lucis, _something_ had to be responsible for bringing them online once again. Perhaps discovering their secrets could be one of the many projects he could amuse himself with while he waited patiently for the Prince to emerge from the Crystal a King. He hadn't fathomed revenge on a dead civilization to be possible, but there was so much for which to demand retribution—not only for being responsible for setting mankind back to their days of primitive savagery but also for setting the wheels of his own fate in motion. If Solheim did indeed exist in some state, somewhere, he would take great relish in exacting his repayment.

As the door to the train car slammed shut, Ardyn pocketed the Clone's mobile—so careless of the child to leave it behind in enemy territory—and spun in a slow circle, searching the confined space for any clues he may have missed in his first search. Given what he'd witnessed on the altar and only just yesterday on the platform, the long, blue-black hairs entwined on the same pillow with short, dark gold were hardly surprising. He'd thought the boy must have died, given how viscerally she'd screamed his name yesterday, until the Advisor emerged from the elevator shaft carrying her still form, pale as death. They made a curious pair. Not only was it not Ardyn's experience that the gods were willing to experience such anguish for their playthings, he hadn't expected the standoffish Advisor to yank the polearm out of his own ass long enough to bed a woman.

If she was, even, a woman; he hadn't yet managed to solve that particular puzzle.

Checking to verify that the little Prince and the Clone had continued toward the back of the train, where they would encounter another of his stitches in time to freeze them as well, he turned toward the front of the train, the fire of anticipation quickening his blood in a way that nearly distracted him from the silver and gold fire broiling his mind—for a moment. But tortured as he'd been off and on these past two millennia, he'd long grown accustomed to performing admirably under the greatest of duress.

He'd strode through two seating cars of gawping, frozen pawns and had just entered the vestibule leading to the dining car when he heard it—the only sound in this frozen moment—clinking china and steelware.

It could only be her.

Steeling himself and reiterating that patience was the most prudent path forward, Ardyn opened the door to the dining compartment and sashayed in, a jaunty, flirtatious smirk spreading over his features and an air of casual grace highlighting his steps.

And there she was—appearing far healthier than he'd last seen her—not a mark of scourge or war on her as she poured the boiling pot of water into an awaiting teapot, stepped around the bald proprietor, and placed it gently on a small tray laden with teaware, all without acknowledging his presence.

The little vixen was still playing games, after all she'd put him through?

Caution. Patience.

"There you are!" she exhaled exasperatedly as she turned around, finally pretending to notice him. "You do realize—when you increase the levels of artron and huon energy on part of an object and not the rest while moving through three-dimensional space, you have to compensate for the velocity and mass by creating a curved time pocket, so essentially, the train is dragging along the frozen bubble as it comes to a complete stop instead of somehow managing to drag along two time fields moving at different speeds, which is impossible, of course. Reversing the polarity of the neutron flow is always a good idea too, in my experience. I'd accuse you of trying to kill yourself, playing with Eos's powers like that, but . . . think we all know the answer to that. I fixed it for you, of course. You're welcome."

Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned back to her tray. "Would you like some tea? I had the damnedest time coming up with something that would suit you. Kuding would work but is too bitter for me to share, so I went with sheng puerh. Broke it off a thirty-year-old cake, but from what I understand of the tea ceremonies of ancient Lucis, this should be right up your alley."

She set the tray on the counter between them and looked up at him, those lapis eyes of hers glittering with some knowing humor Ardyn couldn't fathom.

"I assume it isn't poisoned."

Under any other circumstance, he wouldn't have bothered asking, but the molten wave of metal beating against the backs of his eyeballs even in that very moment was forcing him to contemplate that she was aware of arcane powers in this world which he was not.

"Of course not," she said, clearly offended by his query. She poured the tea into the clay cup in front of him with a gentle flourish and presented it in the style of old. He waited until she'd prepared her own, his eyes never leaving her hands as she brought it to her mouth and took a demure sip, before he brought his cup to his lips. She took her tea in the style of old as well—hot enough to burn and not the sappy-sweetness that these spineless mortals preferred today. The dank, bitter earthiness was reminiscent of a time when blood-oaths were sworn at the tip of a blade, the lands were ruled by those with the strongest of will and ruthlessness, and the gods were worshipped with offerings of virgin life and seared lamb-fat.

Setting her cup down and leaning casually against the back counter, she crossed her arms and inspected him carefully. "Ardyn Lucis Caelum. It's nice to formally meet your acquaintance."

"Would that I could say the same. Laura, was it? I'm afraid I never received your surname."

"Oh, you know how it is," she prevaricated, waving a vague hand in the air, "you collect so many over the centuries that names become a rather meaningless concept. But I suppose, having been born a mortal, you'd likely adhere to their charming little customs. Ni'annen will do for what you're seeking. Laura Ni'annen."

Which told him precisely nothing, as he'd expected—a first name in the style of Lucian peasants and a family name pulled from the ether, of no style with which he was familiar. It rankled quite enough that he'd been wrong about her identity and that he'd continued, despite her insistent, vehement denial, to act according to that false presupposition. Even the idea that she was the newly reawakened emissary of the winds didn't quite fit, unless the gods had recently learned to travel in time beyond that absurd dream dog who could only visit the past. Could she possibly have been telling the truth all along? The indignity of the fault would be too great for him to contemplate. But what other explanation could account for what she'd done to him? Could account for this strange silver power splashing beneath his skull? How could she have fared so well against his attack when not even the Six could withstand the scourge?

Yet with the possibility of aliens now existing on the planet or not, that Power of Eos wasn't steering his logic false; the same power that ran corrupted in his veins still poured off her in such concentrated waves that it nearly blinded him when he examined her too closely. She simply _had_ to be some form of deity awakened and sprung forth from the general state of upheaval in this world—some form of child of Eos. Not even he could be fully aware of every slumbering power buried and tucked away in the forgotten places of the world.

This idle hypothesizing was getting him nowhere. It was time to add another player to this game.

"So . . . _not_ an Astral then," he noted mildly, keeping his wording broad in the hopes she would introduce more information for him to play with.

Her asinine smile fell to a frown as she answered, "I'm sorry, but I did tell you. And then the fact that 'Shiva' was using Crystal magic to create a Glaive shield . . . well, that's what they in 'the biz' call a clue, isn't it?" Leaning forward, but not close enough to come within his reach, she searched his eyes in almost what appeared to be concern. "How are you feeling?"

He raised a hand to his temple, closing his eyes as her pool of energy throbbed against his synapses, as though it knew its mistress was in close proximity. He had no idea why he was admitting this weakness. Perhaps it was because there was little point in hiding it. Perhaps it was the pernicious influence of her molten power in his mind. Perhaps it was simply because she had been the first person in millennia to bother asking.

"Two thousand years without the slightest twinge of pain nor pleasure, and now you incinerate my every thought."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, and, examining her pained expression, he almost found it in himself to believe her.

"I'll have to repay you, of course, for your kindness. It's only fair," he said, relaxing once again into his wicked smirk, because for all her talk and feigned unconcern at this cessation of time, he had her at his mercy. She may have been some sort of deity, but she still clearly relied on Noct and the Crystal to warp—the Glaives' version of Eos's time magic. She was far too unique and far too _interesting_ to dispose of, even if he couldn't control her through scourge as he could the Six. This would be the perfect prison in which to hold her.

"Mmm, what did you have in mind?" she asked seductively, leaning on her elbow and smiling up at him through her eyelashes.

"I leave you here . . . frozen on this train, for eternity. Not so bad in the grand scheme of things, is it, my dear? Why, I can even leave you with company!" he gushed cheerfully, waving a hand around at the mindless sheep suspended in eating their morning meal.

"Ugh, and here I thought you were intelligent," she scoffed, stepping back suddenly and turning to the stove to pick up the pot of water. She refilled the teapot, breathing in the cloud of hot steam that rose from the heated leaves, before speaking again, "You can't do that, actually. I told you—I'm not one of your silly Astrals. You clearly still have so much more to learn about reality to even begin to understand what I am."

"For an alien from outer space, you certainly seem to know quite a bit about me," he drawled, pointing out her lie. One of the greatest benefits that came from being erased from history was that only the immortals knew of his past, and their shame was certainly binding them to silence, which could _only_ mean that she wasn't who she claimed to be. It wasn't as though a stranger could arrive on this planet and somehow discover all this from a book.

"The boys and I have been brushing up on our history lately," she said casually, pouring herself another cup of tea, and though she still refused to draw close enough to refill his, she set the clay pot just within his reach if he chose to step forward.

"History," he sneered, reaching to pour himself another cup. "What would those arrogant babes know of history? Even the meaning behind those ridiculous skulls and the color black, reminders of my supposed turning that my dear brother put in place, have been lost to time—along with my existence."

Her cup froze halfway to her mouth as she stared down at the counter. "The Power of Kings, the Power of Eos, whatever, drains the kings of life and requires death, starting with Somnus . . . so someone like you can't happen again."

"He always thought himself terribly clever," Ardyn sighed. "Forcing them to wear black merely because I touched the Crystal and turned it from blue to black as it rejected me for its Chosen was a particularly senseless move on his part—almost . . . sentimental of him."

"Immortals and their dramatics," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "I bet you're _so_ disappointed you won't be able to reveal all this in some glorious villain speech. Bet you were saving that Lucis Caelum bit for some grand moment—had the soundtrack picked out and everything."

"The boy knows?" he asked, taken aback, because _here_ was the first move she'd made that didn't resemble the immortal on this world—that was, if one also overlooked her untraditional directness.

"Of course he knows. I'm always honest if I can help it, and I'm as open as someone like me can be," she said significantly, arresting his gaze with hers. "Even with you, I've always told the truth."

Another meaningless statement, steeped in conditionals. Undoubtedly, no one knew better than he how effective truth was in misleading the foolish, but she was more skilled than even he at the practice. With perhaps the exception of her fear on the altar, she'd chosen a different persona each time they'd interacted, possibly including this moment—so vastly distinct that he couldn't glean any true information from her disguise, which was nearly always a self-portrait of some sort. One moment, in particular, seemed to hold the clue to her identity—one he couldn't fathom and would not accept at face-value.

"'An alien from outer space,'" he scoffed, placing his teacup on the tray and taking a step back from the counter. "There's too much of the gods about you to believe such drivel." But how could he interpret her words in a manner that made them partially true? Perhaps a being from one of the Solheimian gates? But no, she'd arrived long before his spies had moved out of Lucis—he'd met her himself before the Fall—and his operatives weren't so incompetent as to miss such an event without so much as a whisper. Or were they?

He tilted his head in thought as he let his eyes roam up from her black trousers, to the matching sweater she was drowning in, to her dark hair pulled messily into a twist. Try as he might, he could glimpse no insight into what she was. Taking her appearance into account, she resembled a harried housewife, but his grandmother's divinity shone undiluted in her aura, her disdain for the Six shone in her words. Who and what was this creature that considered even the Astrals beneath her? Who could defy the scourge and set within him a power from which death could not even part him?

"Though I must say, odd insistence on denying your origins aside, never have I spoken with divinity as direct as you. It's rather refreshing."

"My, listen to you," she said with a sly smile, leaning back into the counter with her cup and inspecting him with a patronizing air. "Pretending you're some source of wisdom of the ancients, yet you still believe in gods, like a human. No more than a backwater savage, you are. Clearly, you haven't spent the last two thousand years learning anything."

"And here I thought we had an unspoken agreement to keep things civilized."

"So did I, until I learn that you're _still_ accusing me of being a goddess—after everything we've been through and everything I've just said. Gods are little more than slavers, lording their knowledge and power over mortals. Was that why you went after me? Because they hurt you, and I tasted golden on your tongue? Was that truly all the evidence you required to attack me?"

"Who else with such an aura would be protecting the boy?"

"But that's the thing, the gods aren't protecting him. Sure, they offer to show up every once in a while, now that we've 'received their blessing,' but the price of their power is too great for him to use. Odd they charge for their services at all when they're the ones who need Noct to save them from you."

"You sound nearly as thrilled with their methods as I. Permit me to make a suggestion," he said, crossing his arms and raising his chin. She tilted her head in response, which was a promising sign that she was at least willing to listen. "Why not come with me? Surely, you must be growing weary of bunking down with those tiresome boys every night? Or, the boy, I should say."

To his disappointment, if she'd caught the meaning of his bait, she chose to ignore it. "I'd say our philosophies differ too much. Revenge against your gods, sure. Sounds to me like they deserve all the hell you can give them for causing this mess with their racism. But against Noct? Against all of humanity? I cannot allow that. They fall under my protection."

"You would allow me revenge against the gods?" he asked in surprise, but it hardly mattered. Revenge against the gods, against the kings, against his grandmother—all would require the end of the world, in her view, and releasing him from this endless night would require the little King's death.

And _still_ , he wasn't certain which of victory or defeat he desired more at this point.

"I certainly wouldn't approve, but I try not to step into planetary disputes unless innocents are involved."

"You seem to have a lot of rules for someone with so much power."

The girl placed her cup on the tray and turned to skip past the end of the counter to where a couple sat frozen on their stools, pointing out the window.

"And there's a reason for that. Sounds like you've learned this lesson better than anyone: He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."

Ardyn took a step forward, curious to discover the reason behind the sudden relocation, but she merely thrust her hand into the blue shaft of light shining through the windows to delicately touch one of the sparkling blue embers hovering there. The girl had warped before; surely she understood this process? She'd implied she had the ability to escape this prison, and, now that he thought about it, had the ability to manipulate time enough to make them tea, of all things—one of her subtler demonstrations of power. But then why was she so openly displaying interest now?

"My rules protect me. That was what happened to you, wasn't it?" she continued as she reached over the young woman's outstretched arm to pilfer the cookie sitting on the corner of her tray. "You healed the scourge at the behest of the gods, and it drove you to kill your Oracle, didn't it?"

"I'd like to know in which book you've read this," he said flatly, because it was all he could manage in that moment to conceal his shock at her words. No scroll, tome, cosmogony, or heroogony in even the deepest of ruins in Eos told the truth of _this_ story.

"Not a book—a vision of alternate realities for Noct with a flash of your face," she said, turning toward him. "And now you're getting your revenge not only for your life but for your love."

Attempting to gain some sort of upper hand in this dialogue, he repeated her words back to her in a derisive sneer. "And here I thought you were intelligent. Next you're going to claim that I'm harboring some deep desire for you merely for my actions on the altar."

"Please. Your life would be far easier if you stopped underestimating me," she said with a snort before taking a bite of the cookie and grimacing. "Blimey, that's disgusting," she muttered before raising her voice to him once more, "What I'm interested to know is how a Lucis Caelum ended up with the power to heal the scourge, anyway. Thought that was a trait coming more from the Fleuret side of things."

Ardyn quirked the corner of his lips up into the slightest of smiles. She would find out soon enough that he'd left Altissia to return to Gralea so that he could be personally responsible for wiping out the last of that miserable, whimpering, and wailing line—once so full of promise. His puppet had been an imbecile to return to the capital in hopes of wiping out the Emperor—after all he'd done to save his precious sister, after defending an enemy advisor in Ardyn's very presence! The child had had gall, no doubt, but gall without intelligence was not a mind that needed to exist on this eos. His preserved body still had one purpose left to serve, however, one this little retinue would discover upon entering Zegnautus.

"The lines have been watered down over the generations, grown weaker," he said with a smile of satisfaction, remembering what a simple matter it had been to dispose of the child. "We were far more capable in my day. But all this idle chatter has yielded very little fruit for either side, I'm afraid, so let me get to the point. I've been given very little choice in these matters, and I must see this path to its end, regardless of the new player in this game," he said, gesturing to her. Because no matter who or what she was, what she was capable of, living out the rest of eternity as he existed now was not an option. "The boy is merely a means to an end."

Once she'd tossed the cookie back onto the woman's tray, she turned back to him with a hand on her hip. "You can try to keep telling yourself that, but what you did to Lunafreya was unnecessary, if getting Noctis to the Crystal were truly your only goal. There was the week-long forced hike after the free ride, and let's not even discuss that little play you put on for Ignis. I would ask that you keep in mind that though they represent your enemies, they are as much pawns in this game as you are, as you were."

But that was why Ardyn needed the boy to suffer, needed the boy to understand _exactly_ what it meant to be used by fate—to live the life Ardyn himself had. When the time came for Noctis to sit on the throne that had once been destined to be Ardyn's and call forth the thirteen that would represent one-hundred-and-thirteen, he needed to be nearly as desperate to die as Ardyn himself was so that he wouldn't be capable of escaping his fate. Either that or despise the gods and his ancestors so entirely that he would become Ardyn's puppet to assist in destroying the world.

"Buried deep within you, beneath all the years of pain and anger, there is something that has never been nurtured: the potential to make yourself a better man," she said softly, taking a hesitant step forward and searching his eyes. "And that is what it is to be human. To make yourself more than you are. Do you even remember anymore what it was to be a good man?"

"For a woman of your supposed experience, you certainly are naïve, my dear. Surely you don't believe in such black and white notions as good and evil."

She leaned back and raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Or perhaps my experience is even greater than yours; you might be surprised. Perhaps I've been where you are now. It would be a struggle every day, but what else would you do with eternity? There are so many good men and women of this world. Why not choose one of them as a paragon?"

Was she implying she'd been awake and moving in the world for more than two thousand years? Where had she been all this time that he hadn't discovered her in his extensive travels? This palaver was getting neither of them anywhere. It was high time to stir her ire—just enough to get her to reveal something.

"Is that what you did? Did you choose the Advisor as a role model?" he asked in mock pity for her stupidity.

At first, Ardyn believed he'd failed to prick a vein when she answered calmly, "I chose them all when I decided to do this mission. They're all men of impeccable heart."

But the moment she'd finished, she lowered her head to glare up at him, her eyes glittering darkly with lapis fire and the reckoning of the ancients—feral and potent. He'd had only a second, whatever a second was in this suspended time, to discern her expression before she disappeared in a flash of gold, only to reappear just out of arm's reach.

And he was finally receiving his answer. She moved like a Caelum, could control time like a Caelum, but wielded the power of Eos as though she were born with it.

"'The Advisor' is mine," she hissed coldly. "If you harm him, there is nothing in this world that will stop me."

"But I'm immortal, my dear," he replied jovially, placing a hand over his heart and taking a step back. Suffusing his words with bravado, he said, "There's nothing you can possibly do to me beyond what you and the Six have done already."

Her answering smile was untamed, ferocious. Taking several slow, rolling steps toward him like a coeurl, she spoke in a soft, melodious tone. "My, but now who's the naïve one? You are a sheltered thing, aren't you? Left to walk this world alone with nothing but these _pitiful_ mortals—" she spat, "you probably fancied yourself a god."

Halting her advance, she spread her arms wide, a gesture made somewhat less than impressive by her attire, but Ardyn understood well her meaning. "Well, here I am. You wanted a goddess, and now you've got one. But as I said before, I'm not one of your silly Astrals. You think you've lived and learned all life has to offer, think you've gained the knowledge of the ancients, but let me tell you something, _my boy_ , you have no idea. You wanted my name earlier? I am Hausos, Aurora, Ushas, Thesan, Aušrinė,Zorya Utrennyaya, the Bad Wolf. I _am_ Eos."

Ardyn couldn't suppress his lips parting, his brows raising at her final name. It was impossible, or was it? His grandmother had no Messenger forms of which he was aware. Where had she acquired a body that could house the soul of a star? An alien, perhaps, from one of Solheim's gates? Yes, it would explain how she could resist his scourge with her alien form yet still use the magic of the Crystal, still wield that golden power. But the how hardly mattered, for with her bedding the Advisor, she had started the identical chain that had set them all on this descent into purgatory, and she would make penance for her sins just as he had. She had _made_ him what he was when she rejected him—turned him immortal the moment he'd touched her Crystal, and she would pay for that crime, as well.

"Then you have no idea the hell you've just unleashed upon yourself," he said, maintaining an even tone, but her gaze flickered down to his clenched fists before he could relax them.

"How so?" she asked as she raised a dubious eyebrow at him. "You've already proven you have no power over me."

"But I have power over your plaything." And history had shown that she wouldn't risk her life for her playthings.

The threat hadn't had the desired effect, as she smiled again, this time slow and beatific, completely at odds with her next words. "Hmmm," she hummed seductively, "no one has ever used your immortality as a weapon against you, have they? That power in your mind—it's mine to command. I could burn your body for the rest of eternity—make it so you can't move or think, for your entire existence will consist of nothing but re-embodying yourself with each new moment. If you believe immortality to be a curse now, it would be nothing compared to the hell I will put you in if you harm him."

"This is why good people are so easy to manipulate—what of your rules, of the monsters and the abyss?"

"Good people don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many. I have created worlds and destroyed entire universes. I committed genocide at the age of nineteen all for the love of a man. What do you think I could do to you?"

History did indeed learn from itself, Ardyn thought. As he gazed into that sparkling cobalt, he could see the truth of her words, could contemplate the birth and death of the stars in her eyes, could smell the winds of time on her breath, envision the depth of the great beyond in the black of her hair. It made him feel young and mortal again, trembling at the feet of divinity. All those playful personas had finally been stripped away to reveal the goddess underneath, but not the one he'd expected—not even the same from over two millennia ago.

Would their entire history have never happened had she displayed this savage aegis for her mortal lover the first time around?

But she'd proven weak to the Wallbreaker once before at the hands of Solheim. He might not have been able to engage her here, but he would certainly be able to handle her in Gralea. And then he could perhaps torture the Advisor—once she was at his mercy—just to watch her break.

Taking a step back, he surrendered the impasse, for now, so that he might have a better hand another day. "And here I thought you were shepherding my immortal soul, trying to set me on the good path," he simpered. "Seems as though you're teetering on that edge yourself, my dear."

The fire in her eyes dimmed as she answered, "Your soul does concern me, Ardyn. I would see it at peace when the time comes, but I won't hesitate to destroy it if you make this personal between us—even if I lack the power to do so permanently."

She was the second woman in recent memory to express concern for the peace in his soul, but this creature wasn't Lunafreya, whose compassion was so burned into her identity it was sickening. This goddess was the only creature in the world who could possibly understand the scope of what he had seen.

And was responsible for all of it.

"We shall have to see how things play out. In the meantime," he raised a casual hand, flicking an elegant dismissal toward the front of the train, "I believe you have some work to do."

Ardyn removed his hat with a flourish and gave her a mocking bow before warping to the back of the car and into the vestibule without another glance back. As he warped again to the next door, he released his hold on the cars behind him, plunging them into time once more. Cloning himself as the Clone with only the slightest of chuckles, he stowed away the boy that would reveal his trickery, unfroze time, and sent the signal for the troops to begin attacking the train, concentrating more on the front than the rear to keep her busy.

Crouching down and placing a hand on the little Prince's shoulder, he said, "Noct, are you okay?"

They would need to move quickly to complete this little play. After all, the Gunslinger had a reunion with Daddy Dearest he couldn't afford to miss.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I guess not everyone knows that Ardyn uses magic to essentially switch his and Prompto's places for this entire chapter of the game? My reader was surprised as hell to find that out. So, yes, that part really does happen.

The train has been completely redesigned by me—which cars follow which, how many there are, whether they are heading backward or forward in the story, where exactly the characters are on the train. Sometimes, things just need to go my way. Travel times are also pretty much a free for all.

He who fights with monsters quote is courtesy of Nietzsche. Buried deep within you quote is Star Trek TNG. Good people don't need rules is from Doctor Who.

The "vision with the flash of your face" refers to the specific moment in the Omen trailer where it no longer looks like Noct's face, but sort of like Ardyn as a young man.


	72. Chapter 72

If it weren't for the fact that he'd been forewarned he would lose the connection with Rose, Ignis may have stumbled to his knees when their bridge went dark, but by the time he had recovered from his faltered step and Gladio had turned to check on him, their connection was back online and glowing again.

"Something wr—" Gladio began, but a single, deep percussion rocked the floor under their feet, forcing them to lunge for the nearest benches to steady themselves.

 _Rose? Are you all right? Are Noct and Prompto?_

 _I'm fine. Last contact with Noct and Prompto, they were fine, but then they got caught in a different time stream and I lost track of their mental signatures._

"It's a trap. We gotta get to the front of the train," Gladio muttered as he stood and headed toward the front once more. "Gotta get this bucket movin' again."

"Indeed," Ignis agreed as he recovered and followed after, but his thoughts weren't at all focused on Gladio's words or what his own body was doing. Concepts, images, words, emotions—all were flowing into his mind in a rush, and though he had no time to process them completely, his Intuition was sounding claxons in his head at what Rose had done and for the predicament they were now in.

 _Last I checked, they were together at the back of the train,_ Laura said, and even in her mental voice, Ignis could catch her breathlessness, her distraction, _but Ardyn was headed toward them. I'm a bit busy to keep track of them right now—can't exactly stop to locate them all the way at the other end. You need to warn them._

As Gladio slammed open the door to the first seating car, Ignis remained close at his heels while he hurriedly cleared a path between gaping, fretting passengers shifting back and forth across the aisle to catch a glimpse of the commotion. A quick glance outside as they passed a clear window was enough to tell him that they'd made their unscheduled stop at one of the imperial armories dotting the tracks between Euciello and Pitztala—no doubt because of its vast supply of ordnances and ammunition—a perfect location to take down a train of civilians.

 _I need to pull away and concentrate,_ Laura said, _but the two of you stay on the engineers. Getting this train moving again is most important._

 _Very well. Please, be careful_ , he reminded her yet again.

Ignis pulled out his phone as Gladio reached the door to the engine room, and, deciding that Noct would be warping into the center of trouble, pressed the speed dial to Prompto's mobile instead. With any luck, he would've had the time to retrieve it from the room before being caught in the Chancellor's time stitch—a demonstration of the Lucis Caelums' power over time far beyond warping and, until a minute ago, had merely been a myth.

"You guys okay up there?" Prompto said in lieu of a greeting.

"First of all, where were you born?" Ignis asked, just to be on the safe side.

"Um . . . Niflheim?"

"Good. Gladio and I are inspecting the engine room now to get the train moving again. Laura said that you and Noct were together last she saw. Is that still the case?"

"Yep! We're checking out where that explosion came from."

"The Chancellor is on board, so keep each other in sight at all times. Ask him a question only he would know the answer to, then come up with a password to verify each other's identities, if necessary. Laura's too preoccupied to keep an eye on him, so I'm afraid you're on your own."

"Got it, Ignis! Thanks!"

As Ignis hung up his phone and one of the engineers opened the door to the engine room, Gladio said, "We're here to cover you guys while you get the train moving."

"Oh, thank the Six!" the engineer breathed, his eyes wide with terror. "We're probably gonna have to go outside."

"Yeah, no prob, just give us a second." Gladio turned to Ignis and leaned down near his ear, murmuring, "I pick your password. You pick mine. I ask for yours, I want you to say 'clusterfuck,' you got it?"

Ignis pulled away to glare at him. "You are a child."

"Hey, Ardyn disguises himself as you, that's the last word he's gonna guess. Go on, pick some longass word for me."

"Artichoke," Ignis replied immediately. "Though I don't actually need a password."

"The fuck's an artichoke?"

"Exactly. Let's get moving."

While Gladio remained in the engine room to cover Richard, Ignis followed Sarah outside, most frustratingly out of view of the source of explosions and gunshots. As Sarah scurried down the train's front steps and along the right side of the first car, Ignis reached out to Laura, checking on her status as inconspicuously as possible so as not to distract her, but the only impressions he received were the deluges of meaningless information her mind gathered in battle and a flash of an image—she was surrounded by MTs.

Gods, though part of him knew the Chancellor had likely been planning this all along, Ignis hoped with all his will that Laura hadn't stirred his wrath to the point where it would get her killed.

"Pull off the other two panels, will ya?" Sarah asked as she dug her fingers into the bottom corners of one of the three silver-vented panels situated along the side of the train and dislodged it with a violent yank.

Ignis did as he was bid, and for ten minutes, he gritted his teeth as he fumbled around the unfamiliar circuitry according to Sarah's instructions, periodically cast a wary eye overhead and to either side for incoming combatants, and grew ever more frustrated that he couldn't be on the other side of the train supporting the others.

 _Perhaps you should be the one on this task,_ Ignis said quietly, hoping that, if Laura was too busy, she would simply ignore his suggestion. It wasn't as though he didn't realize this was an important assignment—monumental, even, as the people were vulnerable to attack the longer they sat still in the middle of this war zone. But he hadn't realized how much he'd grown used to being the one driving a blade into his enemy, of having control over the field. He still felt that his reasoning was sound, despite his growing dissatisfaction at not being a part of the action, as Laura did have some mechanical skills and would be of far more help to Sarah and Richard than he and Gladio were.

 _We can't switch places. There're too many—more than the courtyard in Tigiano, and the bastards are rigged to explode,_ she said shortly before disconnecting again.

Another ten minutes passed before the choking rumble of the engine shook the car and roared in his ears. Far from being relieved at this event, Ignis realized that the train had likely only started because the Chancellor was ready for them to leave. If only they could figure out what the meaning was behind this plot!

"Hey, we got it!" Gladio called unnecessarily from the cab window as he and Sarah were replacing the metal covers. Once they'd finished with their task and rushed back to the cab, Ignis pulled out his phone again to dial Prompto.

"Are you and Noct all right?" Ignis asked the moment the line connected.

"Yep! Doin' good. Got some tank things we're handling now."

"We're ready to get underway again. Get Noct and board the train."

"Got it, Ignis! We'll be in back"

As he ended the call and rushed into the engine room behind Sarah, he reached out to Rose. _We've got the train started. Get on board._

 _I'm still surrounded. I'll jump on after the train starts moving and make sure I'm not followed. If one of these things gets on the train and explodes, it could kill dozens of citizens._

For once, he refrained from reminding her to be careful—even if she still likely felt his accompanying concern.

Far too slowly for Ignis's liking, the train began to pull away from the depot, picking up speed as the engine roared in protest. While Gladio covered the engineers in the cab, Ignis remained in the engine room, keeping his eyes trained on the door and his hands at the ready. With Noct and Prompto on the back of the train, Laura distracted by the swarm of MTs surrounding her, and no other defenses onboard, there was absolutely nothing save for him and Gladio stopping a suicidal MT from breaking into the engine room and killing the engineers or exploding the engine—leaving a train full of passengers at the mercy of the Empire.

"Tell Laura to check the train for stowaways soon as she gets on!" Gladio called back to him as his phone buzzed with a text from Prompto.

 _We got on, but MT ships following. Noct warping up to take out._

Ignis typed out a reply as quickly as he could between glances up at the door.

 _Chancellor still believed on board. MT soldiers rigged to explode. Will send Laura your way ASAP. Be safe._

"Hey," Gladio called from the door to the engine room, a weight of significance added to his tone. "What _is_ an artichoke, anyway?"

Ignis looked up from his text, a slight smile spreading over his lips as he answered, "A clusterfuck of spiky leaves."

"Good to have ya back, Ig," Gladio grinned before turning back to the cab.

Stowing away his phone, he waited not-so-patiently for the last of their party to join them. Despite having been able to leave the depot relatively unscathed, Ignis wasn't able to breathe freely until Laura reached out a hand, grasped a bar attached to one of the cars, and let it yank her away from the orange-and-black ball of fire that had once been an MT.

But this little stopover had to have had a purpose. It had been deliberately planned by their worst enemy, who now knew that he and Laura were together and could exploit that information against either of them. Having failed to imprison Laura, the Chancellor would likely make good on his threat to come after her 'plaything,' now.

At least Noct would be safe.

 _I know your telepathy is still strained from yesterday,_ Ignis said as Laura wrestled her way into one of the car's side doors. _Do you think you can manage to check the train to ensure no MTs are on board?_

After a few seconds' pause, she said, _There are a couple, yes. And Ardyn is still here . . . with Noct and Prompto._

 _He's not after me? I'm warning them now,_ he replied as he pulled out his phone. _He may be disguised as a passenger._

 _All right. I'll take care of the MTs, but be ready. I think their goal is to get to the engine room. They may have some new plan if this one falls through._

Six rings, and Prompto still hadn't picked up his phone, so he hung up and sent a text.

 _Laura says Chancellor with you now._

"Gladio! You may want to start preparing for company!" Ignis called out as he dialed Noct's number.

"I'll break out the cloth napkins and guest towels!" Gladio yelled back over the roar of the engine.

Ignis slapped a finger to the end-call button on his screen in frustration when Noct didn't answer his phone either, but after squeezing the device in his fist for a moment, he sent the identical text to Noct's phone—just in case.

 _I'll check on them personally the moment I get this last MT out the window,_ Laura said as she slashed a blade through an MT's neck before hurling him bodily through the plate glass. Despite the calm tone of her mental voice, Ignis could feel the fear rising in her throat—only adding to his own. She took off at a sprint—ducking, dodging, and dancing her way through the clumps of passengers standing in the aisles of seating and sleeping cars alike.

 _Prompto!_ she screamed, stopping in shock as she reached out farther. Ignis could feel the prickles of a headache bleeding through their connection as she said in a panicked tone, _I can't feel Prompto!_

 _What about Noct?_ Ignis asked as she took off to the back car once again.

 _Feels like he's on the last car, but Ardyn and Prompto are gone!_

So . . . had this been the Chancellor's aim all along? To abscond with any one of them, or Prompto specifically? It hardly mattered, because they were going to get him _back_. This journey had transformed the five of them into a family—Noct, Laura, Prompto, and Gladio were all he had left in this world—and Ignis would not countenance the loss of one of their own. But Prompto's rescue had to be done delicately, logically. Their duty to the helpless, to the many, came first. And by the time they'd secured the people, Prompto would've probably already been dragged halfway to Gralea—if Ignis's experience in the other universe was anything to go by.

Fear and vengeance were roiling in Laura's thoughts as well—dark and violent and cold in a way that reminded him of Tigiano square. She wanted to leap off the train that very moment, rescue Prompto, and make good on her promise to the Chancellor—even if her threat had been only in regard to harming Ignis. Only the dormancy in Noct's mind kept her from acting on her desires, but he felt as though he needed to say more to keep her there once she'd reached and revived Noct. One of them needed to be the rational one, and it didn't seem as though it was going to be her today.

 _Remember that your duty is to Noct first, then the rest of us. The sun is about to set, and if we're attacked now, this entire train of citizens will be lost to the daemons._

 _But Prompto—_ she protested.

 _Has been trained. The Chancellor likely won't harm him unless Noct is there to be hurt by it._

 _But—_

 _And remember, it could be part of a trap for you, getting you alone back there. Or he might just be using Prompto to lure us to Gralea that much more quickly, as he did with me in the other universe. Rose, please. All we can do is push onward._

Ignis could feel that she was nearly ready to scream from the frustration and the same fear for Prompto that his own was contributing to their shared mental state, but he knew she couldn't argue with his logic.

 _You're . . . right,_ she ground out reluctantly. _By the light of all the stars, how many times am I going to fail you all?_

 _Sometimes, we need to take care of ourselves, as well. We'll get him back, Rose._

She had just leveraged open the doors and crawled to the roof of the last car. Ignis had just pulled out his phone in the slim hopes of being able to reach Prompto . . .

. . . and then the engine room was plunged into darkness.

"The fuck?!" Gladio yelled from the cab.

Ignis glanced back down in his phone's direction again, feeling for the lock button that would light up the screen, but he couldn't make out a single feature of anything in the room—including what should've been the lit-up mobile in his palm. An unnatural darkness then—magical—and likely the next part of the Chancellor's plan.

"Iggy! Your light working?" Gladio called back as Ignis backed slowly closer to the door between the cab and engine room, stretching his senses out as best he could despite the roar of the engine reverberating off the walls. Knowing it would be a futile endeavor, he moved to flip on the travel light he kept clipped to his blazer at all times.

"No," he replied as he drew closer. "I believe this is some game of the Chancellor's. What's your password?" Before Gladio answered, Ignis probed the air around him, checking to ensure that he could feel nothing—rather than the pool of scourge that was the Chancellor.

"Artichoke. You?" he asked quietly.

"Clusterfuck," he sighed wearily. "I can sense that the engineers are who they say they are, as well . . . well—who they _aren't_ , at least. I have reason to believe the Chancellor has gotten what he's come for and is keeping us from turning back to retrieve Prompto."

 _Is it dark where you are?_ he asked Laura.

"They got Prompto? Gods damnit," Gladio muttered.

 _No. But I have Noct. He's been pistol-whipped, from the looks of things. Knocked out. Looks like the necklace gave him a potion, but he'll need a couple of minutes to come to._

 _So it's us he's targeting for the moment,_ Ignis said, summoning his daggers. As he backed partially into the cab so he could hear everything going on in both rooms, he warned Gladio, "At your back."

"And I got yours," he responded before raising his voice to the two engineers. "You guys can handle driving this thing blind?"

"For now," Sarah said. "We'll have issues knowing when we've reached Tenebrae, though."

"All right, just keep doin' what you're doin'. We'll cover you," Gladio replied before lowering his voice. "Whaddya think?"

"The King of Daemons has plunged us into an unnatural darkness. I can only surmise that daemons are on the way."

"We can't see a damn thing! How we gonna fight without killing each other?"

"Summon a shield and cover the engineers," Ignis growled in response, readying his Therinal daggers. "This is no place for greatswords."

 _Remember, the space is small, so hearing will be your most useful sense. Use the sound of the engine to your advantage; create an image of what the echoes tell you. But don't forget to listen to your other senses,_ Laura said. _Please, be careful._

"You think you can do that dancing shit in the dark?" Gladio asked.

Darkness had plagued Ignis his entire life—though admittedly his youth had been haunted by more of a metaphorical gloom. The literal darkness that loomed in their futures, however, was another matter entirely. Daemon populations would increase to the point where any hunter caught outside a city would be set upon immediately if he wore a light as he did now. Even daemon-repelling lights, should they discover a way to manufacture them anytime soon, would act as a beacon, providing the daemons a location for the moment they failed or were turned off. They would all have to learn to defend themselves in the dark soon.

And here was Gladio, whom Ignis had once considered the far superior swordsman, rendered helpless.

All those alternate versions of himself that had gone blind—with the same Intuition and the same skill in bladework as he—would they recover their skills in time to fight in this new world of theirs? Laura seemed to think so. His other sighted selves would be forced to face the same challenge eventually, but without Laura's help. It seemed that whether blinded or not, Ignis was destined to live his life in that darkness he'd always despised. But at the very least, he no longer feared it.

"Gladio? I was born to dance in the dark."

Even over the sound of the train's engine, he could hear the shift of Gladio's hair over his jacket collar as he most likely shook his head, chuckling.

"Who the fuck are you anymore, man? Seriously though, I'm real proud of ya, Iggy."

Ignis neglected to answer, however, as they both grew still to fully hear the veiled whispering of daemons as they coalesced into their solid form from the floor of the train—what sounded like three separate locations in the engine room. He certainly hoped these daemons weren't too skilled, as three was rather a lot to take on in his first blind fight.

 _I'm hoping they'll be lower leveled. I have a feeling Ardyn might've shat himself when I threatened him with eternal damnation if he harmed you._

 _Oh . . . brilliant. I feel loads better now, thanks._

They would need to sit down and have a chat about where this feud between Laura and the Chancellor was headed—because he didn't like it. Would they be forced to choose between their lives and her soul before this was over? She may have sparked fear in the Chancellor's heart at the prospect of a tortured eternity, but what would carrying that promise out do to her? Perhaps the Chancellor's fear would keep the situation from deteriorating to that level, but Ignis didn't care for the cost either way if things went wrong.

 _We'll talk about it when we reach Tenebrae,_ she said. _Now go and dance with them._

The moment the first daemon shifted on its feet, Ignis turned the full weight of his attention to the room: the breathing of his three charges at his back; the shuffling of the daemons in front of him; the vibration of the train under his boots; the shift of the air against his skin; the scent of sweat, fear, oil, and daemon in the room; the scourge from the daemons' bodies; the echoes of all these sounds and sensations off the walls, floors, and occupants. For a fleeting moment, he believed he could even feel the life forces of the humans behind him—the electrical signals Rose had been telling him about. Using this information, he created an image of the space and its occupants in his mind.

Perfectly calm, Ignis blindly jabbed a blade in the air at chest level as he felt one of the daemons gather itself for a leap. The vibration ringing through the hilt told him that the body was small, possibly humanoid, if the thin rods of flesh tearing at his arms were any clue. Given that it had attacked first and not particularly viciously, it was unlikely to be a tonberry. That left him with ten other options of which he was aware.

Dancing around the massive wall of hot, vibrating metal that was the engine in the center of the room, Ignis stabbed out swiftly and violently, catching a daemon square in the chest before whirling to slash across another that had used his distraction to leap for his back. As he dove, wove, and struck, he continued to collect data about the three daemons circling the engine room—all of the same type, he believed. Once he'd determined that the creatures didn't have wings, due to the lack of flapping and air attacks, he'd narrowed the possibilities down to four: alberichs, glamhoths, goblins, and snagas—all of which were weak to fire. Reaching for the bond with the Crystal through both Noct and Laura, Ignis crossed his daggers and ignited the spark, hearing them flare to life, but he was somewhat disappointed to see that his magical fire couldn't penetrate the unnatural blackness.

Two of the daemons were nearly finished before Ignis had summoned his namesake, so a single slash across each of their throats was enough to finish them off and fill the air with the exhaling sound of melting miasma. Only one daemon left.

Ignis closed his useless eyes and tilted his head, reaching out with his Intuition to taste that dark scourge on the air—and there, at the back corner of the room. There was something cold about the feel of it, as though Ignis needed to apply fire to restore the equilibrium. Was this what his other self had sensed when fighting the malboro?

Ignis spun his right dagger in his hand, catching it by the fiery blade and flinging it with vicious precision toward the creature as he rushed to its position to thrust his left dagger into its chest, pinning it to the ground.

The moment his blade touched the floor, a pool of miasma melting beneath his boots, the image of the grating at his feet and the dirty black train engine blinked back into existence. Ignis raised his head in Gladio's direction to find him standing in the doorway to the cab, his power shield in one hand and Laura's sword held across him in the other.

"Sorted!" Ignis said with a grin as he jumped to his feet, flicking his aching wrists in the air in victory.

 _You've done so well, my beautiful cocky bastard,_ Laura said affectionately.

"Iggy? Hot damn, you're on fire today," Gladio said softly. "Noct and Laura okay? What're we gonna do about Prompto?"

 _Noct's dialing you now. He's frantic._

"Noct and Laura are all right," Ignis replied, pulling out his phone a second before it began vibrating in his hand.

"Ignis, you gotta stop this thing," Noct said in a panic the moment he put his phone to his ear. "Prompto fell off the train; I pushed him. I mean—Ardyn made me! I dunno where he is, but we can't leave him!"

"Stay calm, Noct. I'm as concerned for Prompto as you are, but stopping the train would endanger everyone on board. We'd be sitting ducks for the daemons."

"That's what Laura said, but what do we do?!"

"First, we drop the passengers off at Tenebrae," he replied as he strode to the front of the cab to assess their position. "We'll be arriving shortly—as soon as we clear this tunnel up ahead."

"WHAT ABOUT PROMPTO?"

"Given the Chancellor's involvement, it's probable he's no longer where we left him. In any case, he may try to contact us. Let us wait and hope for now. Can you and Laura make your way here? Gladio's with me."

"Are the two of you okay at least?" he asked, his voice growing quiet with regret and worry.

Ignis glanced at Gladio, whose eyes were alert and darting over the room, his blade and shield still held at the ready in case any more daemons appeared as the cab passed underneath the tunnel's arch.

"Yes."

"Okay, we're on our way," he replied, before he suddenly exclaimed in surprise. "We'll be there as soon as we take care of these stowaways!"

The click of the phone may have been cause for concern had he not been connected to Laura. _Take care of him. He sounds as though he's coming unhinged. We'll stay here to protect the engineers._

 _We've got daemons crawling all over this train. He's all right; he's got something to do, but we've got another problem—they're breaking into windows in multiple cars._

 _I'll start clearing them from the inside then,_ Ignis said, summoning his daggers again. Turning to Gladio, he said, "Stay here and protect the engineers. Noct, Laura, and I will secure the rest of the train."

"You got it," Gladio called back, as Ignis had already turned and was striding through the engine room to the passenger cars.

 _I've gone down inside to clear my way from the back while Noct handles the top. Meet me in the middle?_ Laura asked.

 _I'm on my way._

Ignis worked as quickly as he could, elbowing his way past the frightened, flailing passengers in the first carriage and thrusting blades into snagas as they ripped their claws and teeth into the innocent. It was a horrific sight—and he didn't want to even consider how those men, women, and children that had been attacked today might've been infected now. After all, the very same daemons he was killing had once been innocent men, women, and children. But they were still no closer to discovering the vectors of infection besides the Chancellor himself. Ignis himself had been bitten and scratched hundreds of times, and he doubted it was the potions afterward protecting him from succumbing. Was the disease even spread that way? Laura had been right—how _had_ the plague managed to remain such a deep mystery for so long? The scourge seemed to affect animal and human, warp inanimate objects, spread both quickly and slowly.

"Everyone, behind me!" Ignis bellowed over the screams and roar of wind over the broken windows. "Follow me to the sleeping car!"

It seemed as though the passengers in the next two cars had gotten the same idea, since each was more abandoned than the last as he led his group of thirty or so to the first sleeper car.

"Use the mattresses to barricade the windows and doors, but please allow anyone else in that I may send back this way," he instructed.

 _What's your status? We should be clearing the tunnel any moment,_ Ignis said once he'd gotten the passengers situated and ensured there were no daemons coming up from behind him.

 _I'll meet you in the next car,_ she replied.

With one last glance around, Ignis strode down the deserted corridor with his daggers crossed at the ready in front of him, his steps haunted by the eerie giggling and cackling of arachnes clinging to the roof and crawling up the walls of the outside of the train.

"Ignis," Laura sighed as the door to the seating car shut behind him.

The car was deserted, its windows unbroken, so Ignis dismissed his blades as he rushed to the opposite end where she stood. Three steps in, however, several things happened at once.

The car was plunged into light as they emerged from tunnel, likely dealing damage to the daemons still lingering outside train, but the sun didn't seem to be strong enough to force them to melt away. A snaga crawled its way up the window, smirking at him with bright yellow eyes as he tried to get a glimpse of their location beyond the daemon. Ignis caught a brief flash of sparkling blue writhing in the misty air over the water-filled gorge to his right before Laura shouted his name in fear and dread.

And his entire world tipped and turned into fire and water.

It was the fire Ignis couldn't help but notice first—searing his mind like a branding iron, leaving charred and blistered thoughts of panic in its wake and reducing him to instinct. He couldn't even gather enough wits about him to remember his own name, let alone call for help. Out of reflex, he sucked in a gasp of a breath, but the water rushing in to burn the back of his throat made him gag and convulse.

How was he suddenly underwater?

 _ **Filthy mortal that dares to lie with divinity, how dare you stand in the presence of the Goddess of the Seas with your sin bared proudly for all to see? Naked, grasping savage that you are, have you no tribute to the Six who protect your path?**_

It had only been seconds, but the partial relief from the cessation of fiery torture was enough to clear his thoughts—for a moment. Rose's mind washed over his like a cool mountain stream, soothing the telepathic damage and shielding him from the mysterious battering attack with a wall of sparkling gold.

But his relief was short-lived, as he was still trying to choke up a mouthful of water.

 _I'm coming, Ignis. Swim up before she fills the car completely._

He blindly did as he was told, swimming up to the surface despite the itching in his lungs, the instinct to try and draw breath, and the panic threatening to take over his rational mind. His lips had only just breached the surface—he'd had only just enough time to cough his lungs free and take in a partial breath before he was completely submerged again.

Ignis opened his eyes, finally somewhat able to assess the scene, though what conclusions he was able to draw did little to comfort him. The daemons were no longer clinging to the outside of the train, but the compartment he and Laura were in was completely filled with water. In the haze of his pain, he hadn't noticed that he'd floated up near the ceiling as his feet drifted over the tops of the seats. And beyond the blurry windows, he could just make out the sparkling blue serpentine body of Leviathan, her fins rippling with her movement as she undulated toward them.

 _ **She who has committed the crime of Eos shall be tormented in the fires of eternity, along with her obscene animal.**_

 _Rose, I'm running out of air,_ he called out urgently. And their situation was hardly going to improve once the Hydraean reached them.

 _Do you remember when we were in the ocean?_ Laura asked as he felt hands on his shoulders turning him around to face her. For a fleeting moment, Ignis thought of how ethereally beautiful she looked, with her skin glowing that pale blue in the reflection of the water, the tendrils of her dark hair loosening from its twist to dance in the current around her face—until he suddenly snapped back to reality and registered her question.

Needing no further direction, he let his used breath out on an exhale of bubbles before she gave him a slight smile and pressed her lips to his.

That sweet relief of a lungful of air washed over him as she said, _Now, I need you to hold onto that seat there as tightly as you can._ He glanced down to where she was pointing—the base of a seat whose feet were bolted to the floor—and she continued, _I'm going to break the window and part of the train wall, and it's going to try to suck us out over the gorge. Please don't let it do that._

 _I shall endeavor to do my very best,_ he said with a wry smile before swimming down to the seat— wrapping both his arms around one bar, hooking his feet around the bar of the seat behind him, and giving her the signal to begin.

Gripping the luggage rack above the window, Laura reached out with her free hand to press against the glass as a flash of silver light emanated from her palm. Ignis could feel the cracking in the back of his teeth as a web of fissures grew underneath her fingertips; followed by a delicate, sharp shattering; then a high-pitched scream of shearing metal and the roar of rushing water as it poured from the car.

Laura was already standing at the hole in the train by the time he was able to get his feet underneath him and drag his dripping body to her side, summoning his Therinal blades to his hands as he drew near.

 _She's made her stance rather clear, I think,_ Ignis said, glaring at the water dragon as she halted in front of them. _Shall we turn the tide on the Tidemother?_

Laura was completely soaked through, appearing as a drowning victim as her heavy sweater dripped steadily in a puddle at her feet and her plastered hair trickled with rivulets of water down her neck, but that gold and blue fire that Ignis had always loved and feared blazed in her eyes as she, too, stared down divinity.

 _Yes, let's shall,_ she growled, her mental voice deadly. _I grow weary of this world thinking it can push me around. I've been kind and patient long enough._

Never in his life did Ignis imagine that he would be standing tall against one of the goddesses of legend as she sought to personally murder him and his wife—not in a trial as it had been for Noct in Altissia, but a matter of true life or death.

Ignis and Laura worked together as one—as they were always meant to—when the great sea serpent opened her mouth wide to bite down on their train car. As Ignis tossed a spinning lightning dagger into her more delicate soft palate, Laura sent out a telepathic whip, snapping at Leviathan's mind and forcing her to snap her head back—shaking it roughly and sending waves of sparkling droplets flying to hit them in the face.

 _Careful, Leviathan,_ Laura said patronizingly. _I am_ _ **not**_ _your mother; I won't hesitate to destroy you for threatening me and mine. How dare you risk the covenant to indulge your own foolish prejudices?_

 _ **The Goddess of the Seas has forged no covenant with the Blasphemer or her filthy concubine.**_

 _You forged the covenant with the King of Light, and that includes his Sword-Sworn. How cooperative do you think he would be if you killed his Hand in cold blood?_

 _ **You, fallen woman, who lie with ephemeral filth and forsake your heritage, are not of the Sword-Sworn. The Astrals have seen to expel our own blood for the same crime you commit wantonly. What would we do to you, Abomination of Flesh?**_

"What _is_ it with everyone throughout time and space calling me an abomination?" she muttered, summoning an emerald stone the size of both her fists. As the golden swirls of the Bad Wolf bled from her aura to her corporeal body, engulfing her in a glowing nebula, she continued in the doubled voice of her goddess aspect, "Well, I came prepared this time."

Even her mental voice was doubled as she gazed serenely out at Leviathan and said calmly, _Don't attempt to intimidate me, for you are as small and insignificant as a mortal in the eyes of the Goddess of Time. Are you prepared to test your mortality? I have felled gods and devils alike, and you are tiny. I will rip you out of time and space—out of all existence. Your death would not mean a new thread; you have spent too much of your life asleep in insignificance._

The Hydraean shoved her enormous eye nearly against the train's opening, and Ignis tensed, stepping in front of Rose as he prepared to imbue his blades and send another volley of attacks directly into Leviathan's eyeball, but Laura remained still, so he held his ground, following her lead. Try as he might to be otherwise, in the deepest recesses of his thoughts, he was still somewhat intimidated by the goddess he'd learned about in his lessons as a child, especially now that she had personally sought his death for his sexual pursuits—a scenario that had most certainly not been covered in his studies. But he couldn't find it in himself for even a moment to fear as he stood tall next to the goddess he'd married.

Honestly, his life had become absurd.

 _ **Your threat is valid, reviled creature. Nevertheless, the Heirs of Eos are nearly gathered for the cleansing, and you threaten to restore the misbalance.**_

 _There can be no child. If there is no line resulting from the union, there is no crime, no misbalance, though I would argue against your opinion on mixed children being blasphemous regardless._

It seemed odd to him that the gods should be so interested in his theoretical progeny when he himself had given the matter no thought since Rose had told him it was impossible. Stars, had it only been months since he'd first had to contemplate his decision? But regardless—his thoughts on the matter hadn't changed. Spending his life with Rose was far more important than reproducing, in his mind.

 _ **Filthy harlot, blood of divinity that lies with frail flesh and claims them equal to the gods!**_

 _Don't claim yourselves gods if you aren't prepared for the sacrifice it entails. What have you done, really, to protect this world?_

The floor shuddered beneath his feet as the train, which Ignis hadn't noticed had stopped, began moving again, and Leviathan swam in the air alongside them, keeping her eye level with their window.

 _ **What would a foreign wretch know of sacrifices of the mighty Six?**_

Laura took a single step closer to the window. _I can see I will not get through to you. Begone. I shall let Noctis decide what to do with you for attempting to murder his most beloved friend and Sword-Sworn._

As the last echoes of her telepathic voice faded away, she coiled her mind at the ready again, preparing to strike out at the goddess, but the sea serpent snapped her jaws in frustration and whipped her head around, diving swiftly into the water below with a thunderous splash.

The air grew calm quickly—the only sound in the car was the gentle breeze blowing over the hole in the train, the rhythmic clacking of the wheels against the rail, and the susurrous roar of waterfalls dropping off impossibly high rocky cliff faces and being swept away into mist before they could reach the crystal blue water far below.

Laura took a step back from the window, letting the gold recede back into her skin as she turned to him, searching his face and mind for signs of any damage.

"It feels like Noct and Gladio made it through okay. What about you? Are you all right?" she asked, and he could tell she wasn't referring only to the physical and telepathic dangers of this most recent encounter. Not only had he attacked a goddess of his world, that very same deity had personally referred to him as a filthy concubine, of all things.

Yes, his life had indeed become absurd.

"Yes, I believe I am."

"Good," she said with a nod before stepping back to the shattered window and glaring down at the water. She placed a hand to her temple and closed her eyes. "Gods, I hate telepathic attacks. I'm glad she fell for that."

"So you were bluffing?" he asked in surprise, stepping up beside her to brush her hair from her forehead.

"Well," she began with a grimace, "I certainly could've killed her if she'd decided to attack, but no way could I have actually ripped her out of time and space."

"I thought the Bad Wolf was capable of such a feat."

"Not since the Doctor took the power out of me. Remember? I can only call up her shadow now. Still—works as an intimidation tactic," she said with a cheeky smile up at him, her tongue sneaking out to touch the top row of her teeth.

"You are mad, woman," he said softly, brushing his fingers down her cheek to cup her jaw.

Just as he leaned to capture her lips, she stood on her tiptoes to meet him in the middle. The scent and flavor of ginger from this morning's meal and the bitter taste of tea lingered on her breath as he drank her in.

He pulled back as the train began to slow again. Her expression had grown soft and loving and so very human so quickly—was he the one with the power to tame her like this?

"Next time you're in trouble like that," she said softly, searching his eyes, "summon your daggers again. I may have placed some rather extensive protective spells on those firestones of yours, including against telepathic attacks."

"Rose, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" she exclaimed, taking a step back and raising her hands in surrender. "Well, nothing you wouldn't approve of, anyway. I've had twelve years to think of everything Ardyn or Ifrit could throw at you, and while I was at it, I went ahead and added protections from the other gods as well, in case he turned them, too."

"I may not understand a lot about the magic you do, but even I know that the stones in those blades couldn't possibly supply enough energy to protect me from the gods."

By the gods that were after them, he wanted to kiss that smirk right off her face.

"You might be surprised. Remember what I said about the dragons discovering those stones when the world was first created? Well, I doubt that's true, but Eilendil's people have stored energy in those stones a very long time. There's probably enough energy to knock the planet off its axis in those blades."

Their bodies swayed with the train coming to a stop, but Ignis didn't bother turning around to take in the sight of what was supposed to be one of Eos's most beautiful cities. Instead, he gaped down at Laura.

"Those _should_ be on your falchions. Why in the world would you entrust such priceless keepsakes to me?"

"I didn't," she said with a grin. "Those stones belong to Eilendil, and he gave them to you because he loves you fiercely."

At a loss for words, he led her by the elbow toward the car's exit. He'd spent no time alone with the dragon beyond their days together in Altissia and had barely exchanged a handful of words with him the few times he'd joined them at Therinal—beyond his standard greeting of 'Ignis Scientia.'

"Even after he elected to stay behind, I was under the impression that he didn't even like me," Ignis muttered as he opened the door that led to the vestibule and stepped to the side to allow Laura through.

She stopped and leaned up to leave a smattering of kisses along the underside of his jaw, sending him an image of Eilendil, his eyes half-closed, curled up on Therinal's top floor as the strains of a violin floated up from the balcony opening.

"That's just how he is—how his people were, really. Hell, I'm bonded to him, and he's always hurling insults at my stupidity."

"And I can hardly blame him for that after having known you a while," he muttered as he stepped off the train and turned to offer her a hand down. She elbowed him in the side for his remark when she landed, but her expression grew grave as she looked out toward Tenebrae.

"Ignis," she said with a nod toward the city.

As the adrenaline from the past few hours began to wane, he took a deep breath, noting the taste of smoke on the air that reminded him far too much of standing on that overlook outside Insomnia. Dread growing in his chest, he turned to lay eyes on his father's homeland for the first time, knowing in his heart he would spot the source of the scent immediately.

Fenestala Manor, jewel of Tenebrae and former home to Lady Lunafreya, was on fire.


	73. Chapter 73

For once, Gladio didn't lecture him on moping as he sat hunched over on the steps of the station, staring at his boots and replaying over and over the flash of panic and confusion on Prompto's face as he fell—because Noct had pushed him. Did Prompto think he'd done it on purpose? What if he didn't understand that Noct had thought it was Ardyn?

Gods, how had he fallen for that? Looking back on it, Prompto had been talking a little weird, but Noct had chalked it up to the heat of the battle and nerves about Ardyn being around. But damnit, he should've known it was still Ardyn the moment he'd woken up. Judging by the text from Iggy, Laura had figured it out, so why had he been incapable of recognizing his worst enemy from his best friend?

Oh shit, what if he wasn't alive? What if Noct had killed his best friend, the only _real_ friend he had? Things had changed between Noct and the other three since they'd set out on this trip—they were family now, but that would never change the fact that Prompto had been the only one to freely volunteer for this mission, even if he hadn't known what they'd all been getting into at the time. Prompto was the only one in the whole world that wasn't around him because of duty, the only one Noct didn't have to be a King for.

Gladio let out a sigh of frustration, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked over the heads of the dazed passengers stumbling onto the platform, which hadn't been long enough to hold the entire train. Gladio and Noct had been waiting for everyone from the front to get off before it could pull forward over the gorge to let everyone in back off. No one's cellphones were working anymore, but that hadn't stopped Noct and Gladio from attempting nonstop phone calls to both Prompto and Iggy.

Leviathan's roaring and the sound of tearing metal as they were getting off the train was enough to let them know that something big had happened back there, even if they couldn't see anything past the cave-like train station, and of course, Laura and Iggy had to have been involved somehow. Noct only hoped they hadn't been overrun by daemons and killed. That would've been his fault, too, for waiting so long to summon the goddess.

"Why the hell are you guys all wet?" Noct heard Gladio ask, and he looked up from his useless phone to see Laura and Iggy approaching, looking like they'd taken a dip in the Alstor Slough with all their clothes on.

"A little run-in with the Hydraean. Nothing to be terribly concerned about," Iggy said casually. He'd removed his jacket and gloves and was doing his best to sort his drenched hair as they came to a stop in front of them. His voice grew low and serious as he noticed Noct's phone in his hands. "Any word from Prompto?"

Noct stared down at his boots, shaking his head. "Looks like all communications are out now."

"Hold on a second," Laura interrupted as she glared up at Iggy, crossing her arms and leaning into her hip. "'Nothing to be terribly concerned about?' _Tell him._ "

Iggy crossed his arms over his chest as well, glaring down at her for a moment before reluctantly turning to Noct. "It would seem that at least one of the Six doesn't approve of our marriage."

"She tried to kill us both!" Laura argued, throwing her hands up in the air.

"What?!" Noct snapped, but then he suddenly made the connection—all that stuff in Pitioss with the gods not liking mixed relationships. He hadn't applied that same logic to Iggy and Laura, since Laura seemed so . . . human most of the time. When Leviathan had shown up in his head with an offer to help after his long, fruitless battle to the front of the train, he hadn't given it a second thought to summon her, even if it was gonna suck him dry of power and energy for the next day or so. But this? No fucking way. They were playing by all the rules, down here doing all the suffering, and he wasn't gonna accept being betrayed like this.

"Holy shit," Gladio said under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "You guys fought off the Tidemother by yourselves?"

"Yes, and she's most displeased," Iggy said with a sigh. "Laura told her that she'd leave Noct to decide how to handle the situation."

"Is it just her, or all of the Six? What do you guys recommend I do?" Noct asked, because he didn't have a clue what anyone in the world _could_ do when the gods were out for blood. Not even Eos herself had been able to stand up to them, and how long could the five . . . _four_ of them protect Laura and Iggy? He could maybe threaten not to cooperate with this whole Chosen King business, but then they'd all know it would be an empty threat. The humans needed this solved just as much as the gods did.

"It's difficult to say. Gentiana's clue leading us to Pitioss implies that at least one of the gods is ashamed of their actions against Eos, and the Hydraean's attitude toward mortals is well-known. We can only hope the others will be more accommodating," Ignis said.

"In the meantime, you could always just not summon them. They don't seem willing to expend the energy it takes to bring themselves to this realm on their own," Laura said.

Iggy's brow furrowed as he took a step toward Noct. "I object. We obtained their services to use in cases they were needed, and the odds that they will be needed the closer we draw to Gralea are high indeed."

"All right, compromise," Noct said. "I won't summon any of them unless lives are at stake, and I won't summon Leviathan until we get answers from one of the others. Good?"

With a reluctant sigh, Iggy said, "That does appear to be the safest course of action for all parties involved. I must offer my most sincere apologies for inconveniencing the group like this, particularly when the summons already take so much from you. How are you feeling?"

He summoned a bottle of water and thrust it into Noct's hand as Noct answered dully, "I'm fine, Specs. Just tired." But he looked up to meet his brother's eyes as he continued, "And don't you dare apologize for this. I'm done with gods and fate and whatever dictating our lives. You two be together and be happy. This is why we're fighting."

Iggy and Laura. Prompto and maybe Cindy? Gladio and . . . whoever he finally managed to settle down with. Noct was doing this for everyone that had made sacrifices—to avenge the deaths of those they'd lost and to make sure that everyone left alive at the end of this had the best lives possible. They deserved it after following him through all this shit.

And Prompto was gonna live to get his reward.

"What're we gonna do about Prompto?" Noct asked, looking between the three of them standing over him, but he knew the answer already.

Iggy had been right not to stop the train—as much as he despised leaving his best friend behind like that. They all had a duty to the people first, and that fucking duty had always put the ones he loved at risk. But now that they'd seen everyone safely to Tenebrae, what was stopping them from going back?

"Based on Laura's experience down in the mines with the other universes, I would hazard a guess to say that if he survived the fall, he'll be waiting for us in Gralea," Iggy said. "Please, Noct. It would make no sense for the Chancellor to keep him back in Piztala."

"I hate playing the waiting game with Prompto's life on the line," Noct said with a scowl. "Who knows what Ardyn's doing to him right now?"

"Perhaps Laura's threat from this latest run-in will give him pause," Iggy suggested before turning to Laura.

Even Gladio had to plop down on the stairs next to him as Laura filled them in on her encounter with Ardyn while he'd been screwing around with time. When she'd finished, Noct said hopefully, "So you think he's gonna back off now cause you misled him into thinking you're this universe's Eos?"

"Well, I might have given him a reason to be more careful with Prompto out of fear of me—should definitely keep him from taking Ignis. Only problem now is that he has reason to hate Eos because the Crystal rejected him as Chosen King. He'll be after me—not that he didn't have a reason to before."

"So . . . what's the best course of action for us now?" Gladio asked.

"As much as I would prefer to press onward, I'm afraid we need to linger here for a bit. Noct needs to recover from the summoning, and we need to get the situation here under control." As Iggy nodded out toward the city, Noct followed his gaze to the burning buildings, the lines of people struggling with their belongings toward the train platform.

Luna's home—how had this happened? Noct remembered coming here as a kid—those same high, columns spreading out like trees to support the open part of the train platform; those delicate-looking bridges that spanned enormous drop-offs; and the manor itself overlooking the other parts of the city as it balanced precariously on impossibly high and narrow cliffs. He'd noticed the fires destroying the infrastructure of the palace where he'd first met his future wife the second he'd gotten off the train, but he hadn't given it much thought because of Prompto.

Now, though, it felt like he was losing her all over again.

"Too bad Leviathan was too busy trying to eat us to actually do something useful and put that fire out," Laura grumbled. "Flew right over the manor, too, and didn't do a thing."

"Yes, well, it's not as though we can call her back," Iggy said. "Two summonings in one day could kill Noct."

"Not to mention kill you," Noct added.

"Welp," Gladio said with a groan as he pushed on his knees to get to his feet, "better go see what we can do with just our regular selves to help. Let's go find out who's in charge of this operation."

As Noct dragged himself to his feet, a familiar voice sounded from behind him, "Well, look who's here."

"Aranea," Noct scoffed as he turned to look at her. "Guess we have you to thank for this mess."

"You!" Gladio shouted, advancing on Aranea with his fists clenched at his sides. "You got a lotta nerve showin' up here after Altissia." He flung a hand violently up at the burning city. "And now this?! Give us one good reason why we shouldn't end you right here and now."

Aranea put her hands on her hips and glared up at Gladio in almost the exact same way Laura would sometimes glare up at Iggy, and what the hell was that all about? The way Gladio had yelled and the way they were staring daggers at one another now suggested there was something personal between the two of them, but as far as Noct knew, Gladio had only met her the one time at Vaullerey.

Aranea was the first to break eye contact, looking back to Noct. "More to it than meets the eye. You wanna know who to thank?" she retorted, her eyes shooting back to Gladio for a second before turning on her heel and walking toward the nearest bridge. "Come with me."

Gladio didn't wait for Noct to reply or verify that he was coming along—just stalked off right behind Aranea, his fists still clenched at his sides.

"Can't wait to hear this," Noct chuckled bitterly as he shuffled along behind the tense pair. Flicking his eyes in Laura's and Iggy's direction, he asked, "Either of you know what that's all about?"

As Iggy shook his head, Laura said, "They're both angry at each other, but I imagine you gathered that."

"Uh . . . yeah, think I did manage that much," he said under his breath as Aranea led them across the marble bridge, which was beginning to glow orange in the light of the dying sun.

She stopped suddenly, turning to inspect the four of them. "Uh, wasn't there one more of you guys?"

Noct let his gaze drift to the columns of black smoke rising from Fenestala, trying with all his might to hold his tears back as he choked, "Yeah, there was." But for as hard as he tried, he couldn't keep them from his voice.

Gods damnit. Even if they did somehow manage to find him again, how could Prompto ever forgive him for just . . . moving on like this? It felt so wrong. At least with Luna, he had known for a fact that she was dead and that he himself hadn't been the one to . . ..

"We . . . lost track of him," Laura supplied, her tone gentle as she placed a comforting hand on Noct's shoulder.

"Is he dead?"

 _Fuck, no he's not,_ he wanted to spit back at her. Instead, he near-whispered, "I . . . I dunno."

"Then quit mopin', keep hopin'," Aranea said with a sigh, leading them to where two Magitek engines were parked in a clearing on the other side of the bridge. "And in the meantime, handle what's at hand."

"Ugh," Laura scoffed in disgust. "Your sentiment is touching, but your bedside manner could use some work."

"I thought it was good," Aranea said with a shrug. "Rhymed and everything."

"Pardon me, but you're commenting on _her_ bedside manner?" Iggy asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, but Laura ignored him and turned to Noct.

"I swore an oath, Noct," she reminded him in a low voice, squeezing his shoulder. "I'm going to do whatever it takes to get him back in one piece."

"We all will," Gladio agreed, and Iggy nodded.

"Well, aren't you boys sweet?" Aranea drawled.

Gladio narrowed his eyes almost evilly at the back of Aranea's head. "So, if it's not you we thank for this . . .."

"Thank the daemons, pawns of the Imperial army, and that creepy Chancellor. Seems to be a friend of yours—wanted to welcome you to Tenebrae."

"Yeah, that's the guy you're workin' for, you know," Gladio said accusingly.

" _Worked_ for," she corrected as she stepped off the bridge and onto a dirt path. "My men and I are in the search and rescue business now. Anyway, it doesn't matter. The Empire's pretty much gone now."

"What do you mean by that?" Noct asked.

"Well, the High Commander got the ax, literally."

"Shit, sounds like Ravus didn't have it much better than Lady Lunafreya," Gladio said. "That's gonna make getting the King's sword back kinda difficult."

"The heirs of Eos continue to suffer," Laura said sadly. "Why did he even return after he showed his hand in Altissia?"

Ignis lowered his eyes to the ground, shaking his head. "It's a pity we never had the chance to talk things out after his sister died. He still had mixed feelings about Noct as King when last we met."

"And the Emperor's no more than a husk at this point. Everyone in charge is gone now. It's total chaos. All hell broke loose in the daemon labs," Aranea said.

"Elaborate."

"Unprogrammed MTs and daemons left to run amok. Now they're everywhere. The capital's crawling with them. As if that wasn't bad enough, the bastards are stronger than ever now," she said, gritting her teeth in frustration as she stared up at the darkening sky—way too early. "Not enough daylight to keep 'em in one place anymore."

"Gods damnit," Gladio said quietly. "All those people . . . daemonized."

There was something about Aranea's news that left a hole in Noct's heart, or made him feel like he'd missed a step going downstairs. He'd thought this mission was gonna be straightforward as he'd stood on that overlook and watched the only home he'd ever known burn while standing next to the only family he had left. It was all about getting his own Royal Armiger, becoming the King, and storming into Gralea to take down the Emperor and get the Crystal back—even if it took his life. But with this news, that loss of home and someone to point the finger at had all been fake. Even though they'd all known it since Altissia, the mask was officially ripped away now to reveal that it'd never been Niflheim they were fighting.

It'd been his own gods damned ancestor.

And even though he knew it wasn't his fault, it kinda was. There was a ticking timer left on the world now, and he was the only key to diffusing the bomb. He couldn't afford to be tired anymore, couldn't afford to be scared because literally the entire world—even the innocent citizens of the empire he'd once considered his enemy—was resting on his shoulders. The lives of the people he loved most in the world that were included in that, but hell, that didn't just erase his fear, his exhaustion.

"Long story short?" Aranea said, interrupting the worry and determination that was welling up inside him at these thoughts. "We're stuck in this rut until you go and take back what's yours."

He _would_ take back what was his, and soon. The Crystal. His kingdom. Gods, Prompto.

"Yeah, we're gonna do just that as soon as things are stabilized here."

"You mentioned being part of the relief effort," Iggy said as the dirt path gave way to grassy field beneath their feet. "We have a favor to ask."

"Ask away."

"In light of what you've told us, we _can't_ allow the other passengers to continue on . . .," he trailed off, leaving his request implied.

"Sure," she sighed. "Leave 'em to me."

"Thank you, Aranea. That's very kind of you," Laura said.

"Well, what else am I gonna do? Gotta admit, I've got the skills, and I love the thrill, but I ain't gonna fight for an Empire that's ending the world. Best I can do is fight against them, and this is the best way."

"It says more about your heart than you think."

Aranea stopped again, her gray hair and eyes shining in the twilight as she looked up with some kinda significance at Gladio, who glowered down at her. "I wasn't involved with any civilians in the ops in Altissia," she said softly. "And I quit when the Chancellor asked me to do Tenebrae. My men and I are doing everything we can inside the city—getting people out, putting out fires."

Gladio let out a long, weary sigh, his scowl softening into a frown. "Either way, I don't got time to deal with this shit right now. Just tell us what needs doing; then we're gettin' on a train to Gralea."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "And who's gonna drive this train?"

Gladio opened his mouth, froze, then looked over to Laura, who gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Couldn't be that hard, I guess. I could get a crash course on it from Richard and Sarah."

"Emphasis on 'crash,'" Iggy muttered under his breath, which earned him a playful slap on the arm.

"Don't worry about that. I got your new engineers," Aranea interrupted, turning to face the two men standing at attention next to a Magitek engine. Looking back to when they'd last seen Aranea at the Vesperpool, Noct thought he recognized them as the ones standing outside Steyliff with her before the five of them went inside. "Biggs and Wedge. No need to worry. They can take a lickin'."

Noct looked the two men up and down, taking in their hard expressions, their tense stances, and their Nif uniforms. Once upon a time, he would've taken one look at the two of them and seen an opposing force. But he had to remind himself that there was no Empire anymore; it was humans against the dark, against his great uncle.

"Seriously? Oh, but this is _fantastic_!" Laura gushed, coming to stand in front of Biggs and Wedge and practically vibrating in a way that reminded Noct heartbreakingly of Prompto. "Your last names wouldn't happen to be Darklighter and Antilles, would they? Fought in a war with a Biggs and Wedge once. Best starfighter pilots in that galaxy, and the best wingmen to have on your side."

The man Aranea had identified as Biggs let his mouth drop open before replying in an accent that Laura would sometimes use, "Uhhh, no, My Lady. It's Callux, but I'll take the complimen' regar'less, thank ye kindly."

"And Wedge Kincaid, a' your service," Wedge said with a small bow before turning to Aranea. "Wha's all this about?"

"Driving a train . . . to Gralea," Aranea said.

"Tha' all?" Biggs scoffed. "We're 'appy ta help. Can' say the climate'll be as co-operative though, ya know?"

"Righ'. Specially the gorge," Wedge interjected.

"The place is freezin'! Makes sense, what with the Ice Goddess's cold corpse lyin' 'round. Anyway, we'll be waitin' on board. Give us a 'oller when you're ready to shove off," Biggs said with a wave as he slapped Wedge's arm lightly and gestured toward the train. "Prolly gotta uncouple a few cars 'fore we can get underway."

"So weird how the multiverse works sometimes. Can you _believe_ it? What are the odds that those two names . . . together?" she asked Iggy in manic disbelief, who indulgently shook his head. Noct had long gotten used to letting her random references slide, so he could only imagine how it was for Iggy.

Noct turned to Aranea, eager to get started so he could get back on the train, get some sleep, and be heading forward again. "Is there anything we can do to help in the city?"

"My men have things under control. Got 'em putting out fires as they scout the area for survivors, but it won't be the highest priority until we're sure the place is evacuated. Not even sure about the soundness of the structure. The place took a beatin' from the engines. Looks like the noble families were their prime targets though, judging from the casualties."

"And you're sending them all to the train station?" Laura asked, looking back at the platform, which was growing more and more crowded with sobbing kids, huddled families, and people staring blankly off into space. "Perhaps we can stabilize things with the refugees while Biggs and Wedge get the train situated."

"Yeah, I'd appreciate that. Makes my job easier and takes a load off my men. Thanks."

Laura looked up at Iggy, and the two of them seemed to have their own private conversation for a second before she patted Gladio's arm. "You want to help me get started on that?"

Gladio hesitated, opening his mouth to say something to Aranea before staring down at his boots and sighing. "Sure, Princess. Lead the way."

As Gladio and Laura walked side by side back over the bridge, Noct asked, "You wanna tell me what that's all about?"

"Not really," she said with a shrug before striding up the open ramp of the MT engine behind her. She threw a hand over her shoulder as she called back, "I got work to do. Let Biggs or Wedge know if you wanna get a hold of me—only way to reach the city is by ship or shortwave radio. Main bridge is burned out."

Iggy stepped up beside him, his hands over his ears, as the ship's engines roared, flattening the grass and flowers at their feet as it rose into the air and headed for the lower levels of the city. Once it had grown quiet enough for him to uncover his ears, Iggy said, "Noct, if we're intending to linger here for a while, might I suggest you take the time to speak with the servants of the manor? I'm sure they'd relish the chance to share their tales of Lady Lunafreya."

The weight holding Noct down was so heavy that he couldn't even bring himself to sigh at Iggy's words. He knew Iggy was just trying to help him with the grieving process, or whatever, but there was so much about him and Luna that Iggy just didn't understand. Noct may not have spent a lot of time with her in real life, but he knew her better than any stranger here did. He had no interest in hearing about his own fiancée through the filter of some random attendant.

"Yeah, Specs, good idea," Noct mumbled. "I just wanna see something first."

He'd spotted the flash of purplish-blue as soon as Aranea had led them over here, and still haunted by the last time he'd seen Luna standing in that flowing white gown in an endless field of sylleblossoms, he needed just an hour, just a minute, whatever he could get, to feel a little closer to her. Crossing the bridge onto the second clearing, Noct was careful not to crush a single blossom with his boots as he picked his way to the edge closest to the burning manor. He let out a whoosh of a breath as he flopped down on the ground in a spot clear of the flowers growing scattered across the plush grass.

Luna.

He guessed all these flowers would be dying off really soon. He wondered if they would ever come back.

 _Look to the distance. Know that I am there._

Noct hoped with all his heart that she wasn't here now. He didn't want her to see what had become of all the places they'd played as kids, of her home. Noct knew from personal experience what it was like to taste that smoke on the air, to helplessly watch the one place in the whole world where everything was supposed to be safe as it burned. He'd never gotten the chance to ask her what she'd gone through since leaving Tenebrae to meet him in Altissia—how she'd ended up in Insomnia and gotten the Ring from his dad in the first place. How much of the Fall had she witnessed personally? She'd always been tough as nails, staying behind to watch over Ravus and her people when she was only twelve—watching the legacy of House Fleuret fall as she gracefully picked herself up after her mom died.

Why had he never been that strong? But at least he'd always had Iggy.

"Hey Specs?" Noct asked after what was probably an hour of spacing out, but of course he knew Iggy would still be behind him. "Why weren't you with us when we came here last time?"

Iggy carefully stepped up to the edge of the cliff, looking out at the small column of fire still rising from the top of the manor into the dark sky. "I imagine His Majesty wanted to keep the retinue as small as possible while traveling so close to Niflheim, and with good reason, as it turned out. Well behaved though I was, another child would have been impossible to watch over in the middle of such turmoil."

"Yeah, it was bad enough leaving Ravus and Luna behind. I'm glad you stayed back in Lucis, but I remember wishing you'd come with me at the time. Especially after the sun set and the stars came out."

"I recall thinking much the same," he replied quietly. "Even despite the tragedy, this place is stunning—the climate, the greenery, even the architecture suits me." He paused, taking in a breath of air before looking down at Noct from the side of his eye and pushing his glasses up on his nose. "I'm not certain I ever told you this, but my father was from Tenebrae."

"No, I didn't know that," Noct replied, wincing down at his lap, because of course he'd never known; of course he'd never asked. He used to be naïve enough to assume that Iggy had just appeared one day to be his annoying, not-so-imaginary best friend.

As he always did, Iggy tried to cover up that guilt that was weighing Noct's chest down by changing the subject. "The manor doesn't appear to be too badly damaged. Perhaps the people might yet recover from this disaster."

Noct leaned back on his hands, inspecting the buildings he could see from this angle, each perched on its own grassy cliff. "It's seen better days. So have the people. If what Aranea says is true, and all the ruling families are gone, it's gonna leave this place a mess for a long time—a power vacuum."

"Yes, I imagine Gralea will be experiencing a similar predicament once this is over."

Noct inspected Iggy's face closely as he gazed out over the city—the way his eyes tightened in pain like he was watching his own home suffer; the way his breaths came slow, deep, and easy like this was the air he'd always been meant to breathe; the way he just seemed to belong here in this lofty, windswept place—the same way Noct felt every time they pulled into Caem. Noct had always seen Iggy as a brother—even during all those years he wanted nothing to do with him. Since they'd left Insomnia, however, Noct was beginning to see him more and more as a man—as his own person with his own wants and dreams separate from the dreams he'd wanted for Noct all these years. Noct found himself wanting to become whatever it was Iggy saw in him—whatever it was Luna had seen in him at eight years old—just to thank him for giving up his entire life to be with him.

It was the least he could do.

"Maybe you should take over this place when the time comes," Noct suggested.

Iggy chuckled bashfully and shook his head. "I believe the denizens of Tenebrae would object. Besides, my place is by your side, Highness."

And that was the kinda thing Noct couldn't stand to hear anymore—from Iggy _or_ Gladio. Those two had given up everything, had never even gotten to have a real childhood, and what were they gonna have left when this was all over? More duties, more picking up the pieces of broken kingdoms. If things turned out the way Noct expected them to, then there was one thing he could do for his brother now, and that was to release him from his obligations after Noct was gone.

"I say, if you ever get the chance, take it. Gladio too. Let's face it. Lucis is no more. We're all one people now, and there are gonna be a billion ways to serve the people when this is over. Fuck the monarchy and do what makes you happy, Specs. That's what I want for you guys more than anything," he finished, trying not to choke on his words.

"Language, Highness," Iggy replied half-heartedly, and the tone of his voice reminded Noct of Laura sometimes, when she'd remember people from her past. Did that mean he knew?

"Why do you still get onto me about that? I've heard you slip a time or two since we left, so don't act like you never swear."

"Because unlike you, I possess some semblance of self-control," he replied haughtily, raising his chin in the air. "And _when_ Lucis is restored, and you're sitting on that throne, we'll need a king that can keep a civilized tongue in his head."

So—either he didn't know, or he was lying to himself . . . and knowing Iggy, it was probably the latter, as stubborn as he was. He'd thought after that talk in Altissia when Iggy'd suggested they stop their journey that he'd finally figured it out, but now Noct wasn't so sure.

If they were all being honest with themselves, they'd known since the day he'd been Chosen . . . deep down, but Noct had known for sure the first time that sword sliced into his chest and he felt the spirit of the Wise enter his heart. He had so many thoughts and memories swirling around in his head now—none worth a gods damn thing for actually finishing this mission, just a lot of crap about honor and duty—but it made him feel old and ancient with the weight of gods only knew how many of his ancestors. And the burden was getting heavier by the day. Was this what his dad had felt like every day as he gave his life to hold up the Wall? It didn't really matter how hard he'd worked to hide it—the whisper behind every mention of duty told Noct his entire life that Lucian kings were born to die.

"Always keepin' me on the straight and narrow," Noct replied lightly on a sigh as he heaved himself to his feet. He needed to get up now, or he was gonna end up passing out right here in the middle of this field with all Aranea's men stomping around. Slapping Ignis lightly on the back, he said, "I dunno about you, but I'm starved. Let's go see what Laura can pull out before she recruits us for whatever she's got goin' on down there."

"I'm afraid she's already recruited me for collating population census data and making a rotation schedule for the use of the sleeping cars after we've eaten," Iggy said, tilting his head and smiling tenderly as he started for the bridge back to the station. "But she's already gotten matters well in hand, as only she can, so you'll be able to rest after we've eaten."

And thank the gods for that. He wanted to help, he really did, but he felt hollowed out and half-dead after everything they'd been through today.

Noct was a little bewildered to hear music echoing off the cave-like walls of the station as they drew closer, then what sounded like the dull roar of a couple hundred people talking all at once.

"Laura says Gladio is up near the front," Iggy said over the noise, directing him farther down as they stepped up onto the platform—which was lit up in almost a romantic kinda way from the wrought-iron lampposts standing tall at regular intervals along the overlook.

They wove their way through the crowd of people, all of whom seemed to be on some kinda mission—carrying tables and chairs toward the back of the train, sweeping up glass and covering broken windows, walking around with clipboards and putting check marks on people's hands, and who knew what else. They only ended up spotting Gladio because Iggy was so tall and Gladio stood a head above the flurry of activity around him.

"Tell Biggs we gotta pull the train up one more time. Gotta disconnect the cargo car in back, reverse the train up onto the secondary track to get rid of those last spares, then reconnect it to the back," Gladio ordered a kid, who looked to be about ten years old. The boy nodded once and took off at a run toward the front of the train.

"Hey, guys," Gladio called out as he spotted them and waved them over. "Good thing we came back here. Everyone was sittin' around wallowing in misery, so we put 'em to work. Our new sleeping car's the one attached to the engine, so if you wanna change, Ig, should be able to in about ten minutes. Might wanna haul Laura away from the dining car back there on the secondary track and have her change too. Think she's still soaked."

"She neglected to inform me of that, of course," Iggy said with a frown. "We'll go and fetch her now. Will you be joining us?"

"I gotta handle this first. Be there in a few."

Gladio turned away, but Noct stopped him with a hand on the arm. "Hang on. You gonna tell us what's going on between you and Aranea? Didn't think you even knew her."

Gladio's lip curled into a scowl. "It was a lay. Nothin' more," he grunted. "We were both on opposite sides; we knew it. No talking—just two people havin' a good time. I didn't tell her a thing, Noct, I swear."

"Chill out," Noct interrupted when he took a breath to explain more. "Not gonna have you beheaded for treason or anything. I believe you."

"While there are some . . . grey areas to her character, her guiding principles seem to be sound," Iggy said. "Your timing and conduct has been . . . less than admirable, fraternizing with an enemy agent during a time of war, but given the specifics of the circumstances, you could have done far worse."

"Yeah," Gladio grunted before clenching his jaw and looking away. "Anyway, I gotta get back."

"Very well," Iggy said with a smug, knowing smile, placing a hand on Noct's shoulder to guide him back the way they'd come. "Come, Noct, Laura's cooking up a feast. Perhaps I can pull her away long enough to get changed, for hygiene's sake, at the very least."

"You know something I don't?" Noct asked as they ducked back into the flow of the crowd.

The corners of Ignis's lips twitched up farther as he responded mysteriously, "We'll see."

As they drew closer to the other end of the platform, the strains of that guitar that had been floating on the air over the sound of the crowd grew louder, and the bustling people rushing back and forth gave way to rows of mismatching picnic tables, folding tables, TV trays, camp chairs, fancy dining room chairs, and ripped-out train benches. Every table was packed with food and people—mostly adults making plans for what they would do next or telling stories about their lives back home, but a few sat in silence, staring down at their plates in the kind of horror that Noct had grown well-familiar with by now.

Noct had to stop to avoid a group of kids chasing a dog as they passed the guitar player, who was singing the Ballad of Tidus and Yuna in a mournful tone next to the dining car that seemed to be the center of all the activity.

"This almost feels like some sort of bizarre family reunion," Iggy noted as he stepped up onto the dining car stairs and studied the scene in disbelief.

"For a funeral, maybe," Noct muttered, but he guessed it was better than sitting around doing nothing.

And _no one_ in the dining car was sitting around doing nothing. Noct could hear Laura's voice rising over the sound of pounding feet as person after person rushed past them and out the door, carrying bowls and plates full of food that didn't even closely resemble cockatrice nuggets.

"Sweat the onions for 'nother minute, would ya, Jeremiah? Oh, no, hon, tha' tray goes to Mr. Telmar in the sleeper car. He's not feelin' well. Oi! No second 'elpings til everyone's got some, yeah?"

It was hard not to get in the way as they came close enough to see her—dancing back and forth between the different counters and stations, stirring soup, making a plate to hand off to a runner, directing a guy at the stove, and summoning a knife to chop more vegetables. Iggy must've gotten her attention telepathically, because she suddenly spun around to face them.

"'Ey! There you are! Soon as Paul came back, I was gonna come get you two. 'Is daugh'er Jocelyn's out figh'in' fires wiv some other Tenebraeans, and 'e wanted to bring some food to 'em."

Noct hadn't really seen Laura in the full light since the . . . five of them had sat down to breakfast or lunch or whatever the hell earlier that day. Despite the bright smile, she looked like crap in the yellow light of the dining car—stringy hair falling out of its clip; dark circles under her eyes; damp, heavy clothes hanging off her body; and through her scorched sleeve, Noct could see that the burn on her arm looked angry and wet.

She looked like Noct felt.

"You're hurt," Iggy said sharply, dodging the three people headed for the exit, rushing to her side, and lifting her arm closer to his face. "When did this happen?"

Noct leaned over the counter to get a closer look. The burn that extended from Laura's right shoulder to her elbow was red, bloody, and black around the edges with charred skin.

"Even I noticed it when you guys got off the train. How'd you miss that, Specs?" Noct asked.

"You've been hiding this from me," he accused, glaring down at her in a way that Noct was all too familiar with.

That sheepish, downcast expression was one way to get Specs to soften up, and his face relaxed a little as she mumbled, "You had enough to be getting on with, I thought. One of the MTs exploded a little too close is all. Give it a couple of days."

She tried to step back to the grill and stove, gently tugging her arm to pull it free of Iggy's hand, but he gripped it more tightly.

"Wait. There's something I want to try."

She tilted her head, looking up at him with a searching expression for a second, but eventually nodded. Noct couldn't help but shudder in disgust a little when Iggy leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against the blistered skin, whispering words Noct couldn't hear.

"Ignis," Laura gasped as a sparkling green light escaped Iggy's mouth like a magical exhalation.

It was almost like he'd thrown a potion on her, the way the blisters receded back into her arm, the red reduced to pink, and the blackened skin began to smooth over. By the time he'd finished, only a pink outline of the burn that had taken up most of her bicep remained.

"What'd you do, Specs? Is that the advanced healing you were talking about?" Noct asked, but neither of them was listening. They were doing that thing they did; her eyes widened a fraction, and Iggy shrugged. When she tilted her head as though asking a question, he shook his head. Her eyes narrowed, and Noct thought it was probably Iggy's turn to look sheepish and apologize, based on her expression.

Iggy turned to Noct, adjusting his glasses delicately before replying, "I've been experimenting lately—mixing my two bonds with the Crystal to heal, combining our Eosian energy with Laura's energy through our bond. With the sources mixed, I've found I can hardcast in such a way that doesn't completely drain me or Laura but would be of the correct resonant frequency to more effectively heal her. The technique clearly isn't perfect, however, and isn't without its drawbacks. It appears I still have more tweaking to do."

"I think I . . . at least got the gist of that," Noct said, leaning to the side so a girl could grab a bowl of steaming soup that had just been placed on the counter.

"In other words," Laura said with an exasperated huff, "he's being a stubborn ass, using his magic in a way that hurts him just so he can heal something that's going to go away on its own in a couple of days anyway."

"It's only a headache, woman. It's not as though I'm suffering anything truly horrific, like walking around with half my arm cooked to medium-rare."

"Oh, medium-rare, you say? Are you certain? Perhaps you should've summoned the meat thermometer before you started. I _told_ you it would be fine."

"I would say of the two of us, I am the more qualified to judge. Yes, medium-rare!"

"Seriously, you two," Noct interrupted. "I swear, you deserve each other, really. I just hope you guys end up spending so much time lecturing each other that you forget to lecture me."

"Hey, Laura," Paul greeted, pushing her and Iggy aside as he took over her spot at the stove. "Gladio sent me in here. Told me you needed a break."

"Yes, we should go and get changed. It's unhygienic for you to be dressed as you are and cooking," Iggy said, leading her by the arm to the door. "We'll be back shortly."

"Yeah, sure," Noct said before heading to the end of the counter and plopping on a stool that had just been vacated. After nearly an hour of watching Paul cook in silence, wondering where Prompto was at that very moment, whether he'd ever forgive him for pushing him, Noct heard Gladio's voice call out from the direction of the front door.

"You in here, Noct?"

"Yeah, back here."

"Hey," he said as he shouldered his way through the crowd to reach him. "Laura and Ig just got back. Got us some seats saved outside. You eat yet?"

"Nah." He _had_ been starving when he'd first come in here, but the idea of food right now was making him feel kinda queasy. He wondered how much he'd have to make a show of eating for Iggy's sake before he could crash in a bed somewhere.

"Let's get some bowls for everyone then and go sit down."

Jumping off the stool and following Gladio to the front counter, Noct began to really take note of the food being served, and the food that _wasn't_ being served. Not only were there no cockatrice nuggets, there wasn't a canned pea, terrible cookie, or scoop of mashed potatoes in sight.

"Where'd all this food come from, anyway?" he asked no one in particular.

"Little of here, little of there," Paul answered without turning around. "Laura figured it'd be too depressing to serve that crap at a time like this. Said the people needed comfort food, so we combined supplies from the city, her stores, and mine to make what ya see here. Gotta say though, some of the stuff she donated is just plain whacky."

"Yeah," Gladio chuckled, handing two bowls of chili to Noct before grabbing the other two bowls Paul had just placed on the counter. "She's full of surprises. Giving us one now, if you wanna come out and listen."

Laura was standing at the head of the table dressed in her Kingsglaive uniform when Gladio led him to the empty seats on either side of Iggy at the table, and what seemed the entire train platform had gone still and silent to hear her words. Ducking his head so as not to attract attention to himself, Noct sat quickly, staring at his bowl as her voice rang out over the crowd in a clear, authoritative tone that somehow seemed to echo perfectly down the long tunnel.

"Many of you came to Tenebrae seeking solace from the horrors of Altissia that stole away the Oracle and the daylight, only to be greeted with more of the same. But as the Princess of this fair city once said, all hope is not yet lost.

"The road ahead is dark and long, riddled with doubt, fear, and loss, but mark my words: the prophecy _will_ _be fulfilled_. However, the shepherd has left his flock to do so; if you all want to survive the coming darkness, you must trust in each other, you must band together against the evil that awaits you, and you must not wait for someone to guide you by the hand.

"Remember that it is just as vital to safeguard your hearts and minds as it is your lives, as all are just as easily lost in thrall to darkness. Cherish your friends and family, and do not fail to find joy in the everyday, just as we've done here today."

With one last look around their table, she raised her cup of water high above her head calling out in a ringing voice that sounded more like a monarch than he ever could, "To missing friends. To broken families. To fallen loved ones. To the Chosen King of the Dawn. Long may he reign!"

Noct felt like he was gonna melt into the ground when the tunnel was suddenly filled with the roar of hundreds of voices echoing back into his ears, "LONG LIVE THE KING!"

"Uhh," Noct said as she sat down between him and Iggy. "You didn't um, have to do that."

"Don't worry; I didn't give away your secret identity, but I didn't do it for you," she whispered down at her plate so no one else at the table could hear her. "Sometimes, the people don't need the king—the person. Sometimes all they need is that symbol, that spark of hope."

And that was all well and good, but what was gonna happen if he couldn't step into the shoes of that symbol when the time came?


	74. Chapter 74

"All right, so we should probably exchange passwords now while we're safe," Gladio said suddenly, breaking the silence that Noct had been biting down on for the past couple of hours. He'd been trying to tell by the sky alone whether it was night or day, but he'd had a feeling when they'd left Tenebrae that he'd seen his final sunset.

"Passwords?" Noct asked, wondering where the hell this topic of conversation had come from out of the blue.

"Did Prompto not pass along the message that you should exchange passwords to verify each other's identities back in Pagla?" Iggy asked. When Noct shook his head, he said, "Blast. That means the Chancellor had Prompto's phone all along . . . and knows he was born in Niflheim."

"Why would he know that?"

"Dunno, and until we run into either Ardyn or Prompto, we ain't gonna find out," Gladio said. "First we gotta make sure everyone is who they say they are."

Laura snorted. "You think I'd be sitting here calmly like this if one of you was Ardyn in disguise?"

" _You_ could be Ardyn, for all we know."

"Actually, she can't be," Iggy said, tilting his head. "We're telepathically bonded, remember? And neither of us needs a password to ascertain your identities."

"All right then, but if you two get separated—we got 'clusterfuck' for Ig and 'artichoke' for me. Noct, you take 'Coleman.' What about you, Princess? Bet you got a lotta words Ardyn doesn't know."

"Eilendil," she replied immediately. "But if Ignis and I are together, we're all who we say we are."

"Got it. Everybody good?"

It fell silent again once they'd all agreed, and Noct ran through everyone's passwords in his mind a few times. He wasn't gonna fall for that shit ever again. But once he was sure he wouldn't forget, that silence settled in his molars again as another shiver ran through him. He needed to say _something_ , just so he could pretend everything was normal for a second.

"It's freezing," Noct complained through chattering teeth, curling deeper into his fuzzy gray jacket. He considered putting on his down vest or Crownsguard snow coat for an extra layer, but things hadn't gotten quite that dire yet.

"Then don't sit next to the window," Gladio scoffed from across the aisle, shaking his head as he leaned back and put his feet up on the bench across. Noct eyed the dark green turtleneck and black and silver snow pants that made up the base of his Crownsguard snow gear. Obviously, he wasn't as immune to the cold as he was always bragging about. Iggy was worse about getting chilled than even Noct and had changed into his gray turtleneck and snow pants as soon as the flurries started dropping from the sky back in Tenebrae.

"Is Prom gonna be okay in the coat you gave him?" Noct asked Laura, ignoring Gladio. "He didn't have time before we left to get snow gear made."

Laura turned her head to stare out the train window. Even she'd exchanged her Glaive jacket for something heavier—kinda like a black leather motorcycle jacket that zipped up at an angle, but knowing her and her animal thing, it was probably some kinda futuristic fabric from the planet Zolton or something.

The black sky beyond meant Noct saw more of her face reflected back in the glass than the world outside, but the little patches of light from the train car windows were bright enough to reveal bars of the ground—the snow was getting deeper as they drew closer to Gralea. The dark windows and the deserted seating car were putting Noct on edge, making him feel like they were the last four people in existence on a train to the Underworld. He shuddered in an attempt to shake off the crawling feeling tickling up his spine and waited for Laura to answer.

She frowned. "As long as he's not out in this weather for too long. Does he have access to the armiger this far from you?"

"He can access his part," Gladio said. "Only ones that can get at the main part of the armiger from far away are you and Noct."

"That's something," she mumbled, turning to stare out the window again. Iggy reached out hesitantly to put a comforting hand on her leg, and she smiled tenderly, placing her hand over his without tearing her gaze away.

Noct clenched his teeth as he turned his head toward the window, too—even if there was no point in trying to make out anything. He'd had his time with Luna on this eos, short as it was, and there was no point being jealous of what Iggy and Laura had. The last thing he wanted to do was discourage this happy, affectionate Specs with his own shitty feelings. After all, how many times had Iggy done the same for him?

Of course, it was usually Prompto he turned to for a distraction in times like these, but it was his own gods damned fault that Prompto wasn't here right now.

"What are you staring at?" he asked Laura, figuring he would regret asking, but it was worth it to poke the behemoth if it meant taking his thoughts off his losses.

Her eyebrows shot up as their eyes met."You mean you can't see that?"

"No, they can't," Iggy said, tilting his head and squinting at the dark glass. "I've been watching it through your eyes for some time now."

"It's not some kinda monster or terrible omen or something, is it?" Gladio asked warily.

She chuckled, shaking her head as she stood and strolled to the end of the car. "No. Close your eyes."

Iggy, of course, immediately closed his eyes without hesitation, and after Gladio raised a suspicious eyebrow at her, followed suit. Noct twisted in his seat, the green fake leather squeaking in protest as he gave her a questioning look.

"Go on! It helps your eyes adjust to the dark."

He rolled them at her before obeying. For as much as she claimed to despise the games immortals played, she sure seemed to enjoy having fun in the face of their ignorance, but he guessed the stakes were never as high with her when she acted like this as it was with the gods and Old Kings.

"Just flipping off the light switch," she warned as he heard a clicking sound over the rhythmic beating of the wheels against the tracks. "Just keep your eyes closed for a minute."

The way his hearing heightened as he sat there in the dark with his eyes closed was kind of amazing. Noct hadn't noticed her footsteps as she'd gone to turn the light out, but he could hear each foot as it fell softly on the textured rubber flooring and the whoosh of pleather as she took her spot next to Iggy again.

"I wish we had time to stop," she said quietly. "There's a magic in snow in the wilderness that you can't get in the city."

"I hate snow," Noct said. "It's pretty for like five seconds before it turns into black mush—and way too cold. Good thing it hardly ever snowed in Insomnia. Guess it was because of the Wall trapping all that heat in."

"I suspect that had more to do with the asphalt holding the heat in and turning the city into a giant heat sink," Iggy said. "Remember, the Wall allowed precipitation in, so it likely let the heat back out."

"So how's snow different in the wilderness?" Gladio asked.

Laura's voice was hushed and awed as she answered, "It stays clean, for one thing, and it gets so quiet. The snow acts like a blanket on the ground that muffles all the sounds. You can look up into the sky, and the fat flakes catch in your hair and eyelashes like glittering diamonds. Plus there's all the fun things you can do in the snow, like building snowmen, making snow angels, ice skating, wearing scarves, hot chocolate . . . ooh! Mini marshmallows! And oh! You boys might appreciate this: I've heard most human men like peeing their names in the snow."

"I'm certain I must have misheard you. Could you run that by me a wee bit slower?" Iggy asked, and Noct smirked, blowing out a quick breath through his nose. "Don't think I didn't hear that, Noct."

"You could do that back in Insomnia if you were quick enough," Noct said with a grin.

"Mmm hmm, best part about the snow if you ask me," Gladio chuckled. "We tried building a snowman really quick once, but it was a mess and still freezing cold. Didn't try again after that."

"But the cold is magical too, don't you see? I doubt you guys have Christmas in this universe, but surely you must have _some_ sort of winter holiday."

"Yeah, Hootd!" Noct said with a fond smile of remembrance.

"Come again?"

"Hootd, as in Halfway Out of the Dark," Iggy said. "The longest night of winter before they begin to grow shorter again. Historically, families would gather for a meal and hold vigil until the new day—covering their houses in bright lights and singing songs or holding raucous parties all night to ward off the daemons. Though the practice is mostly outdated in modern-day Insomnia we've kept a few elements, such as the exchange of wrapped gifts, decorating our dwellings, and having a family meal."

"Yes, exactly! Everyone comes together in the cold and the dark to ward it off. The colors get richer and brighter when you decorate your houses and wrap beautiful gifts. Loved ones cuddle on the couch in front of the fire to get warm; everything glows. The world becomes that much kinder to compensate. Peace on Eos, goodwill toward men, that sort of thing."

"Huh, never really thought of it that way," Gladio mused.

They were all silent for a while after that as they sat in the dark with their eyes closed—probably remembering all the Hootd celebrations they'd had. Back when he was a kid and living in the Citadel, Noct had always liked Hootd season because his dad would set aside one entire day to spend with him and Iggy—no one else. The _one_ morning of the year he had no problems getting up early—he used to feel like he was gonna explode when Iggy would make him wait fidgeting on the edge of his bed until precisely seven o'clock in the morning before Noct would drag him up the three flights of stairs and down the hall to his dad's apartments. They'd spend the entire day together, just the three of them—eating way too many pancakes, opening presents under the tree, a trip to the zoo or the theater for a private show, and stories about 'the old days' until he and Iggy couldn't hold their eyes open any longer.

Of course, things changed a lot as he got older and his dad grew more and more disappointed in him, but then Hootd had become all about him, Iggy, and Prompto hanging out at his apartment all night, with Gladio stopping by for an hour or so before he went to his dad's celebration.

At least he still had those memories to look back on now.

"All right. I think it's been long enough. Open your eyes," Laura said in a soft voice, full of life. How come he felt older than a seven-thousand-year-old woman these days?

After hesitating for a moment, deciding whether to allow the train to gently rock him to sleep or obey her instruction, he chose to open his eyes and look out the frost-lined window.

"Damn," Gladio murmured under his breath.

Iggy sucked in a long breath through his nose before letting it out slowly. "It's quite another matter to see it from one's own eyes," he breathed.

"I should take you to Hoth tonight," Laura said into the window, fogging up the frosted glass with her breath. "I've got that universe on the brain after meeting Biggs and Wedge. If you go at the right time, all three of its moons are in the sky at once, and it's almost as bright as daylight out—reflecting the entire world in pink and purple. And the ice falls are _gorgeous_."

"Mmm, so long as you make it warmer than here, it sounds lovely."

The scene passing by them did little to shake that feeling of isolation, but instead of taking the train to the dark Underworld, they were now traveling through Shiva's paradise—a sparkling blue-white blanket covering everything from the mountains to the treetops to the ground. He could see wisps of powdery snow curling off the jagged peaks in the dim, hazy light the moon gave off now, and a part of him mourned the fact that the air was probably too thick with scourge here to see the stars from now on.

He doubted he would ever see them again in this life.

"Cool," he said with a smirk in an attempt to shake off his morbid thoughts, but it was hard work.

Iggy let out a little snort. "Careful, Highness, or your face will freeze like that."

"Looks like my face isn't the only thing in danger of freezing," Noct retorted, nodding down at where Iggy was curling and uncurling his wrists in his lap.

Laura's eyes snapped to Iggy's hands before she grabbed one with a huff and pulled it into her lap, rubbing rough circles into his wrists and the muscle at the base of his thumb with an air of experience—like she'd done it a thousand times before.

"I'm fine," Iggy said unconvincingly, and Noct noticed that he didn't even attempt to pull his hand away as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

"Hands are _still_ cramping—you're too cold, and you're not getting enough fluids," Laura tutted. "You think it's a simple matter to use all the magic you did back in Tenebrae? And then almost drowning. You should drink some hot tea."

"Tea's a diuretic; it would do little to hydrate me."

"Hot cocoa, apple cider, the blood of the undead—I don't care."

Iggy let out a sigh. "Not only were we unable to procure Ulwaat berries from Tenebrae due to the catastrophe, I also neglected to ask about apples from Eusciello. The region is supposed to be famous for them."

"I've got thousands of apples from so many different planets, and we can grow those berries when we get back to Lucis," she said, but then her voice grew softer. "Though we should try to raid a cafeteria or something while we're in Zegnautus—collect a few samples to preserve of your home planet. I collected what I could from Tenebrae these past few days, and I've got Aranea spreading the word to send any additional samples to Lestallum for me . . . if anyone makes it over that way."

"Did you get any of the sylleblossoms?" Noct asked, hoping it wasn't just food she was trying to save.

To his relief, she nodded. "Ever since Altissia, I've been collecting what I can of food and plants. Ignis has Sania working with the hunters to get a complete seed catalog of Lucis as well."

"Sounds like between you, Aranea, Claustra, and Sania—should be able to save most of the plant species," Gladio noted. "Probably still gonna lose some though."

"There may be something I can do when the long night is over," Laura said quietly. "We'll see."

"Do you think it's started everywhere in the world like it has here?" Noct asked.

Laura shook her head. "They still had some daylight left in Tenebrae."

"And the last reports I received from Sania indicated there was still several hours of it in Lucis," Iggy added.

"So why . . .?" Noct began, but Laura jumped in to explain.

"Think of it like pollution from a factory. They're making all those MTs here. The regression of daylight from the particles in the air is bound to be uneven just as pollution is."

"Though Lucis has Ravatogh, so we aren't exactly particle-free," Iggy said.

"I just hope it lasts longer now that everyone isn't out hunting daemons anymore," Noct sighed.

Some days, he couldn't believe that it had come to this—that they were even _discussing_ stuff like this. The first twenty years of his life, he'd never seen a daemon, except for the one that had attacked him as a kid. Though part of him knew that the world was always destined to go this way, the deepest part of his heart would sometimes wonder if his dad wouldn't've done a better job had he still been alive, if there'd still be daylight.

But he was doing his best—they all were.

"It's getting colder in here," Gladio said, shivering and standing to summon his fluffy black snow jacket, with its fur-trimmed hood and silver skull insignia on the chest. As though this were some kinda signal, Iggy stood to summon his as well, and Noct decided he may as well put on his downy khaki-colored vest.

"We must be approaching the Glacian's cadaver," Iggy replied as he zipped his jacket up and sat back down next to Laura.

"Won't be a blessing if all we got's a body."

"If the Frostbearer can project her essence upon this terrain, she may yet be able to grant Noct her power. If not, let us hope we pass through the gorge without incident."

Laura made a face. "Oh, did you have to? 'Hope we pass without incident.' That's almost as bad as, 'nothing can possibly go wrong.' Now something's certain to happen."

"Doesn't matter if something happens in the gorge or not. It's what's after the gorge I'm worried about," Gladio said, rubbing a fist through the frost on his window and looking out.

"Given our experience with the gods, I must say that I'm quite concerned enough about the gorge for now," Iggy replied.

Laura leaned over, pushing Iggy forward a little as she untucked his hood from his collar. "Ugh, more skulls," she muttered as she caught sight of the insignia on his chest. "At least that Lucian crest makes more sense now."

Not that his family crest making sense was any comfort to him. The image only solidified the fact that Lucian kings were born to die, but at least the halo and wing of Eos that pointed to his line's divinity was explained. And the black—no one had ever told him that the Crystal had once been all blue. Ardyn touching it with all that scourge inside him must've forced it to react and protect itself, but why would Somnus choose those symbols as reminders and then allow everyone to forget Ardyn anyway? He couldn't decide if he was tempted to keep those reminders around or if he'd rather erase all evidence of this mess.

He guessed, as the last of his line, it didn't really matter either way.

He sat in silence and the dark for another hour or so, watching the diamond world roll past them and silently wondering what would happen to Lucis after he was gone. No doubt Iggy, Gladio, _Prompto_ , and even Laura would get things stabilized—even if Iggy and Laura ended up in Tenebrae. Maybe the entire world would become a democracy without the royal lines, or maybe a new monarchy would rise from this with Gladio and Iggy as kings—if they wanted. He'd like that.

The pitch of the train's wheels changed to become higher-pitched as they left the muted, snowy ground and transitioned to the suspended bridge, and Noct found he couldn't tear his eyes away from the window as he held his breath and willed them to pass by the Glacian without anything happening.

But of course, gods damnit, they'd been on the bridge over the Ghorovas Rift for only like, a couple of minutes when the momentum of the train slowing pulled him forward in the seat, the wheels grinding and squealing on the tracks underneath them.

"Nice going, Igs," Gladio said sarcastically as he stood and headed for the door. "I wonder what it could be this time. Hope it's just a quick snow shoveling job."

"Indeed," Iggy agreed.

"Let's just take a look," Noct muttered on a sigh as he followed.

But damnit, it wasn't just the bitter cold seeping through his layers and his gloves; the wind whipped violently across the high bridge, stealing his breath and body heat away as he wrapped his arms around himself. As he squinted into the whitewashed air, attempting to see past his own clouds of breath, he thought he could just make out the giant outline of a jaw, lips, and nose just over the side of the bridge.

"I think I can see her," Noct said through clenched, chattering teeth.

"Yes, that's her," Laura said with interest. "So, this is who everyone on the fracking planet keeps mistaking me for."

"Yeah, sorry, Princess, but she does kinda look like when you came back to Altissia looking all freaky."

"Yeah," Noct agreed, "with the ears and the skin."

They shuffled closer to the metal guardrail, peering as far out as they could into the dark in an attempt to catch sight of the rest of Shiva's corpse lying prone over the tundra wasteland.

"A bit, I suppose," Laura admitted with a frown, stepping closer to Iggy's side, "but I don't think I'm quite that blue. And I tend to wear more clothing, on average."

Gladio chuckled and elbowed Iggy's arm. "Much to Iggy's dismay."

"Remember that revenge is a dish best served cold, Gladio," Iggy replied irritably.

Noct closed his eyes and sighed as that whisper of breath, like the last release when someone dies, sounded from behind them. They should've known this had been a trap from the second the train stopped here, of all places. Turning to Laura for confirmation, he watched her tilt her head for a second before opening her eyes. She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

"Yes, Ardyn's here . . . in addition to those daemons," she said in a hard voice, nodding behind him, and he turned to spot six snagas and three wraiths growing up from a pool of the very disease that had turned them.

He wondered for a fleeting moment who'd they'd been in life. Bus drivers? Middle management? Fast food workers? Niflian nobility? Whatever they'd been, they were stopping them from getting the train free and endangering his family, endangering Prompto.

"Yeah, that wasn't a trap or anything," Gladio grumbled as he summoned the sword Laura had given him.

Noct took a few steps forward, picking up the pace as he drew closer. "Let's clean up out here, warm up in there."

From behind him, Noct could hear the tinkling sound of Iggy summoning his daggers as he called out, "You three have the swords for the wraiths; I have the daggers for the snagas. I suggest we split them."

"Those aren't alvs," Laura argued. "You'll still need some help with six of them. Go ahead and do your thing, and I'll help once I take care of this wraith."

Pushing the chatter out of his mind, Noct danced to the side, spinning to duck a snaga heading toward him before disappearing with a _whoosh-clang_ to jam his blade into the side of the wraith he'd chosen. Yanking his sword free of the wraith's insubstantial flesh, he shook off the miasma just as it lunged at him, and before he could phase, its dead, bony hands grasped his neck with a surprising amount of strength. The sharp points of its finger joints dug into his neck, and he could feel his magic being drained from the breath the creature was choking off as he scrabbled at its arms and head with his free hand and sword.

Just as the world was beginning to spin, a flash of silver passed in front of his vision, falling hard on the wraith's arm and breaking it in half.

"Gladio," Noct choked.

Gladio smirked and said, "Yeah, you can thank me later. Get back in the game."

Just as he was about to turn back to his recovering wraith, something hit him in the back, and he spun to face the threat as the magic surged in him.

"Sorry, I couldn't enchant that necklace for the other curatives," Laura said, lowering her hand as she flipped a falchion in her other hand and stabbed backwards into a snaga. "Back to it!" she said with a cheeky smile, and danced away.

Deciding to take a page from Laura's, and now Iggy's, book, Noct kept his feet moving, dancing and weaving in a circle around the wraith and warp-striking each time it lunged for him.

But then he remembered: he could be doing more damage if he had some help.

"Hey, Specs, you got anything for me?"

"Certainly," he called out happily, not pausing in his twirl around a snaga as he broke a flask of frost in one hand. "This ought to give you an edge—break the ice, if you will."

He tossed the icy cloud at Noct with a smirk, and Noct reached out to catch it between his hands, the chill of it practically searing his fingers through his gloves. Seriously? It was freezing out here, and the _best_ element to defeat this thing was _ice_? He gritted his teeth as he gripped his sword, the joints in his hands aching as he felt his legs getting heavy with the cold. Damnit, he had to keep moving.

"Cool, thanks Ig!" he managed to call back as he dodged another swipe of his wraith, but Iggy had already danced away next to Laura to take down a snaga together.

His hands and blades imbued with ice, he found that each parry and each push into the wraith's crackling flesh left more visible slashes in its dark death shrouds, and he couldn't help but huff a deep, burning breath of relief when it melted into a pool of scourge at his feet.

"Aaand I'm spent," Noct let out on a sigh, doing his best to ignore the pain building in his lower gums from breathing in the cold air. He couldn't wait to get back on that train and get the hell out of this creepy freezing place—as soon as he tossed a fire flask at the icicles that had built up at the front of the train. Maybe afterwards, Iggy and Laura could make them some of that hot chocolate when they got back inside.

He should've known that a couple of low-rate daemons wouldn't be enough for Ardyn. As they turned toward the front of the train, a pool of black bled into existence in the pristine snow in front of them—starting no larger than a pizza and growing . . . faster and faster until it was as big around as Noct's favorite fishing hole back in the Citadel's gardens.

"This should be fun," Gladio muttered under his breath.

With a guttural roar that vibrated the ice under his boots, the daemon that ripped its way into existence looked more like a mechanical creature to Noct than organic—like a spider-cockroach-praying-mantis made of metallic bones, armored plates, and jagged edges.

"Yeah, real fun," Noct muttered back as the daemon gathered its scourge to take on solid form, its yellow eyes glowing eerily in the dark and piercing the haze of blowing snow as it stared them down. "What the hell is that thing?"

"A deathclaw—weak to shields, fire and light," Iggy said in a rush. "We must take care; this is a fearsome foe, capable of killing us with one—"

Luckily, Noct got the gist of what he was gonna say, because Iggy hadn't had the chance to finish as the thing reared high, extending its six segmented claws to the sky and leapt for them.

"Noct!" he could hear Iggy yell, but any kind of heroic action on his part or attempt to maneuver out of the way on his own was cut off when Noct's sight was blacked out by the creature's dark, segmented underbelly.

The deathclaw's hard scales smacked against his head, and he dropped to his knees, fighting the urge to be sick as the world spun around him. Noct felt another smack on the back of his neck, oddly clearing his head and vision of the red haze that had threatened to overtake him. The necklace. Damn—did she have to enchant it to throw those potions so hard at his head? Maybe she'd done it on purpose.

"I'm all right," he called out, jumping to his feet and thrusting his sword up into the creature's underbelly before rolling out from underneath its piercing feet. "Gladio, do your thing," he called out, eager to put this thing in the ground.

"Any last words?" Gladio growled cockily, swinging his sword high over his head, plunging it into the icy ground, and sending out waves of impulsive shocks that knocked the creature back several paces.

"You know, you always say that," Laura teased as the deathclaw spun to face her, and she jumped lightly over its massive, whipping tail before continuing, "but then you fail to finish it off . . . kinda the point of words like that."

"It'll happen one of these days," he quipped as he hacked one of the deathclaw's legs off, "and it's gonna be kickass when it does."

Specs leapt high into the air, dismissing his blades and summoning his radiant lance and forcing the blade deep into the back of the daemon's head as he landed with a grunt of effort.

As it reared up again, Laura yelled, "Noct, it's going for you!"

She hadn't had to say anything because he'd been ready for it this time, parrying the claws and thrusting right into its face the second it landed.

"Pro . . . no. Specs, could use a little help here," Noct called as he used his momentum to slide under the creature's belly and slice a slit up its underside.

Prompto.

Damnit, no. Focus.

"Noct!" Ignis shouted, this time throwing him a blazing ball of fire.

Iggy's flames danced around his wrists, lending extra power to his strikes and sending tingling warmth into his frigid fingers. The deathclaw raised three of its namesake into the air to take a swipe at him, but Noct spun to the side and let the world go in a haze of blue, watching with almost detached interest as the insubstantial armor passed through his body that was no longer completely on the physical plane.

As he stood still in this veiled world, a weird, eerie feeling prickled at his instinct—watching Gladio, Iggy, and Laura work together. Was this what it felt like to be a King of Old—watching from the shadows as the ones he loved put their lives on the line? It didn't seem fair . . . all he had to do was sacrifice his life when the time came—probably when they arrived in Gralea. It was almost like seeing the future, in a way—watching the three of them work without him as they slashed viciously at the creature's armor, sending streams of miasma squirting in the air before they reduced to vapor.

They'd be okay without him, but he hoped they'd at least miss him when he was gone. At the very least, he'd leave the world a better place for them to live, and he wouldn't have to sit back and watch as this fucked up destiny of his continued to tear chunks off all of them. This was in his hands.

Whatever they'd just done to this daemon must've really pissed it off, because those claws that had been swiping through his phased body suddenly detached, forming a line across the entire battle area and shooting hot, red laser lines that melted the ice and snow just as Noct had brought himself back fully into the world. He tried to phase again, but those vicious crimson beams cut through into his astral plane and burned him anyway, searing blistering stripes across his skin and forcing him back into the world with a shocked and pained gasp.

Another crack on the back of the head made him grunt with pain, even as the sensation sent streams of relief down his veins. He was definitely gonna have to talk to her about that.

"Gladio's down, Noct!" Iggy cried out as he whirled to the side, narrowly escaping the wall of beams as the claws returned to the creature. "We'll keep it occupied, but you must get to him quickly!"

Noct pressed himself up against the train as the claws passed, casting his eyes around the battle area in a panic, and there—Gladio was lying sprawled out in the snow next to the train, a trickle of blood dripping down the side of his face and his eyes closed.

Six, that image was just so wrong—his brother, his comrade, so full of life lying dead like that. Gladio had always been the one kicking his ass to do more, be more, right alongside Iggy. The image of Iggy, pale and still next to that river flashed over his sight—followed by Prompto's eyes wide with terror as he fell, but fuck no. Prompto and Iggy were both alive, damnit, and no one needed him more in this world than Gladio right now. Focus. The daemon was standing between all of them and Gladio's body, sending out those rows of laser claws he couldn't phase through over and over and over; how could he get to him in time?

He needed to use his resources, delegate, lead.

"Laura, you can cast Crystal fire, right? And Iggy, the sagefire thing?"

"Yes," Iggy answered as he twisted away from a swiping claw, hurling a fire-imbued dagger at the daemon's more delicate midsection.

"Then draw it toward the guardrails and light it up."

He waited impatiently off to the sidelines, grappling with the desire to throw himself into the fight or risk his life as Gladio's last seconds slid through his hands. He couldn't let him down, no matter what . . . the one time he could prove to Gladio that he had what it took to be a king, to be his King.

He did what he could from a distance, tossing a few daggers and summoning them back as he watched Iggy and Laura work together. Obviously, the telepathy thing was a huge advantage in the field, allowing them to work together without having to take the time to communicate, but it was more than that. It was almost . . . effortless—the give and take, attack and cover, the way they protected each other—like they were really partners.

But he shifted his attention to Gladio the second the fire erupted from Iggy's and Laura's hands, sneaking behind the deathclaw and summoning a phoenix down. He closed his eyes, reaching in deep for that gold power he now knew was Eos's gift of Life.

No one really knew how this worked, but Gladio probably only had seconds left before Laura had to start holding him there. As he cracked the flask over Gladio's chest, his own power coalesced with a burst of phoenix fire to dance around his head just as it had with Iggy. Instead of quietly gasping as Iggy had, however, Gladio bolted upright, almost smacking him in the face and knocking him to the ground. Without a word, Gladio bared his teeth as the fire flickered in his brown eyes, opened his mouth wide, and let loose an ear-shattering bellow that sent Noct falling back on his ass in shock.

Did he do it wrong? Had Noct hurt him somehow?

Gladio turned to Noct with wild eyes. "Fuck yeah! Let's go!" he roared, jumping to his feet and yanking Noct up with a hand.

"Sorry, babe!" Laura said, strolling up with a cocky smile. "You slept through all the action." But her face fell as she stepped up to Gladio and put a tentative hand on his chest. He shuddered and closed his eyes as she asked, "Are you all right?"

Gladio stepped back from her hand and looked over at Noct, staring down at him with a serious expression. He put a heavy hand on Noct's shoulder as he said in a thick voice, "Yeah, I am. Thanks."

"Figured Iggy and Laura'd miss having a fellow adult around," Noct said with a shrug and a crooked smile. "Glad you're okay."

"'Okay' being a relative term," Iggy said, glaring up at the seating car. "End of the battle like this? You're in for a rough night."

Noct smirked over at Gladio in remembrance.

"Better than the alternative," Gladio quoted before raising an eyebrow at Laura. "I don't suppose—"

"And you'd better stop there while it's your choice to do so," Iggy cut in. "I'd hate to run an experiment on the effects of two phoenix downs back to back on a friend."

"And while all this quipping is great fun, remember we have an old friend waiting for us," Laura said. She looked up at Iggy, tilting her head, and he wordlessly summoned his hip pack and began strapping it to her as she pulled a large, dark emerald from her Pocket.

"Hey, buddy! Get in here!" Prompto yelled from inside the train.

"Ignore that; it's Ardyn fucking with you," Laura said in a venomous tone as Noct and Gladio whipped their heads towards the car. "Thanks love," she added in a whisper before securing the stone in the pack.

"I realize I may not be getting any older in here, but I do grow tired of waiting," Ardyn called out impatiently.

"Asshole," Laura muttered under her breath. "I wonder where the hell he even came from."

"He does seem able to simply appear from nowhere," Iggy said in a clipped tone, summoning his daggers and handing one to Gladio, who took it cautiously with a bemused expression.

"You wanna explain why you're handing me this?"

"Not while we have eavesdroppers, not really," Laura replied.

Noct clenched his fists and began striding swiftly toward the door. "Let's go get Prompto back," he growled, only glancing briefly behind him to make sure the others were following as he flung himself up the stairs.

"Where's Prompto, you bastard?!" Noct roared as he shoved the half-frozen door to the seating section aside, but a blast of thick, frosty wind that numbed his face and blew into his eyes made him stagger back. "What the hell?"

Just there—at the other end of the car through the thick haze making his eyes tear up, he could barely make out the silhouette of Ardyn leaning casually against one of the seats, the tails of his coat whipping in the gale.

"Stop! Stop damnit!" he screamed. He was so gods damn tired of playing these stupid theatrical games. "Where is he?! Where's Prompto?"

"Oh! Hello there!" he greeted with a cheery wave. "My, but this is quite the family reunion with the three of us here! And it seems as though one more is on her way."

"Be careful, Ardyn; you were wrong once before, and look what it got you," Laura warned from behind him.

Ardyn's golden eyes flickered to a point just beyond his head before turning back to Noct, but as much as he wanted to remain standing in this asshole's presence, the cold whipping down his lungs was keeping him from drawing in a full breath. As he dropped to all fours without even feeling the vibration that should've been radiating up his arms. Still crawling toward Ardyn, he realized he had no idea what he was gonna do when he got there . . . maybe wring his neck with his icy hands, even if it took his last breath.

"Look at you," Ardyn sneered, "a king on his knees while even his subjects stand tall behind him. Who would you even be without your little friends?"

Two Glaive boots appeared by Noct's head, and he heard Laura say, "Enough games, just say what you came to say and get the hell out of here."

Ardyn rolled his head to the side, letting his lips slide up into a slow, flirtatious smirk. "At least I know who you're not. That's a coldness that can only be hers."

"Yeah," Laura snapped back impatiently, pointing to the door at the opposite end of the car, "hers, I'm betting."

Noct took a deep breath from the collar of his jacket before looking up to see a shadow approaching from behind Ardyn, seemingly unaffected by the frost and frigid wind just like the other immortals on the train—and Iggy and Gladio holding Laura's daggers. There was something familiar about the way the figure held her body completely still with each step, the downcast eyes—Gentiana.

"Ahh," Ardyn sighed. In a low, warm voice, he said, "Such a beautiful face you wore the day you died."

Without so much as raising her eyes as she passed, Gentiana pressed a finger to her lips and touched it lightly to his, a slight, sassy smile quirking her mouth.

Fractals of white spread over Ardyn instantly, freezing his last word on his lips as he grew rigid.

"Well, that couldn't have been what he came here to say," Laura muttered. "Say, d'ya mind turning up the A/C a bit? I'm having trouble these days telling if you're an ally or an enemy, but either way, you're starting to tread on thin ice with the humans in here."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Snow gear described is actually a mod by Nightyswolf. Go check her incredible work out on Steam or Tumblr!

We're reaching the end of my first draft...which isn't too much of an issue, as this version is 20 chapters longer, almost completely rewritten, and more than double the length—so it's not like I'm not used to writing without it. But that means that chapters will start taking me longer to write now because my bullet point outline doesn't have as much scaffolding to work from. Also, I wasn't originally going to touch the WoR, but there's too much plot coming up in my head, so now I've started doing the research for that, also slowing me down. Basically, my updates are probably going to be a bit more like a normal person's now.

Another note: For the "Ahh, the face you wore the day you—" I have no idea why they felt English speakers shouldn't know what this line said, but every other translations seems to have decided it was okay for him to say "died." I went ahead and used a translation of the Japanese for that line.


	75. Chapter 75

A heavy weight settled around Noct's shoulders as the sleeves of his snow jacket flopped in his peripheral vision, but the added insulation did pretty much nothing to protect him against Gentiana's frigid blizzard. But he wasn't about to reject Laura's offering as he shuddered there on all fours before a Messenger who may or may not have been about to attack Iggy. He leaned up a little on his knees to thrust his shaking arms into the coat.

Gritting his teeth as hard as he could against the burning chill, he raised his head when a pair of black open-toed, high-heeled boots stopped underneath his eyes

"Let it now be done," Gentiana whispered fiercely, her voice somehow managing to tickle the hairs in Noct's numb ears over the gale, "as promised to the Oracle."

As usual, he had no idea what the hell what she was talking about—what the 'it' was that was supposed to be done. Seriously, he'd love for nothing more than to stand up and demand she start giving them _some_ kind of answer to _something_ in straight sentences that made sense for once.

But all he could do was sit on his knees with his hands wrapped around his biceps as Gentiana raised her eyes to the grimy train ceiling and spread her arms wide. He had to look away for a second as the frosty blue light that enveloped her body threatened to sear his eyeballs, his gaze not returning to her glowing body until her bare, powder-blue toes touched the rubber floor. The air grew immediately quiet and still, and for a second, Noct thought he'd been transported back into that frozen world that Ardyn had put him in.

She was just as surreal in person as Laura had been when she'd returned to Altissa—with pointed ears, a faraway expression, and an otherworldly light playing on her nearly naked body. But Laura had been right—Shiva was a much more dramatic blue than she'd been, and her glowing headdress of icicles and mythril chains combined with her gravity-defying braids and sashes might've made him awestruck had these been different circumstances.

But Laura broke the spell when she muttered, "Well, I guess that's what 'reveal themselves to the chosen' means—literally that they reveal themselves to the Chosen . . . King."

"Gentiana, it's you. You're the Glacian," he said, pushing himself up on his trembling legs and stumbling to place himself between Shiva and Ignis just as Gladio had also stepped over to block Ignis's body. Noct was interested in why Laura hadn't made a move to protect Iggy, choosing instead to stare Shiva down, when Iggy tutted from behind them all.

"Honestly, don't you think you're overdoing it a bit? She hasn't made a move toward me in all the time we've known her."

"She's known about us since Titan," Laura said, not tearing her eyes away from Shiva's. "Referred to Ignis as 'the Mate.' I'd say Shiva, at least, has reformed her prejudiced ways, but what of the others?"

Shiva lowered her eyes to the floor, reminding Noct of the more human Messenger that had been following them since the beginning of this trip. "The High Messenger decrees that Pitioss is the path to the secret shame of the Six. They see the error of their ways and seek penitence through service to mortals. The Frostbearer holds no ill will to the Fire or the Queen."

"You may want to have a word with Leviathan, then," Iggy said dryly.

Noct turned to glare at Shiva, nodding emphatically. Because while she might have thought it was cute to reveal that a god had been following them around this whole time while revealing nothing about Ardyn or the threat he posed to Luna, her sworn charge, Noct didn't find a single thing cute, funny, or even incredible about this. He might've been willing to do what needed to be done to save the world, but he was done with fate and whoever fucking with his life to manipulate him into doing it.

And he was done with his friends suffering because of it.

"I wanna make it clear that everyone I travel with is under my protection. Leviathan risks the covenants between the gods and the King by threatening my friends." Doing his best not to tremble with the cold, he stood tall and lowered his head threateningly at the divine entity gazing serenely back at him. "You mess with them, you mess with me, too."

With a long, slow blink, she answered, "The Draconian communes with the Tidemother. The Fire and Queen are in no danger from the gods' wrath. The Anathema is forgiven for going forth in the Frostbearer's name."

"Well, gee, thanks for the heads up," Laura snapped. "And the Anathema has been paying for the Frostbearer's sins lately, so the Anathema figured lending her name was the least she could do. But what about you? Are you simply hiding your disdain from us?"

"The Frostbearer's love for mortals springs from her love for the Pyreburner. The gods' protection extends to all creatures here below—even to the mortals created in their image. They are feeble creatures leading fragile lives and clinging to foolish fancies. The Frostbearer scorns these visions of hope, which melt like snow in the sun's light—"

"And then Ifrit gave Solheim fire, you two kids fell in love, and you changed your mind, we know," Gladio said with a frown. "Most of us read the Cosmogony. Get to the good shit. You already said you regret turning on Eos, and I get that. Why'd you turn on Ifrit when he backed her up?"

Shiva closed her eyes and shook her head, the mythril chains around her neck clinking with the movement. "The Six have safeguarded this star since time immemorial—each of a different mind, but united by this common purpose. The gods' protection extends to all creatures here below—even to the mortals who betrayed the Mother with the tools, the knowledge, given them by the Pyreburner. In the days that follow the war, while the Six are still asleep, the Pyreburner is sought by a man who draws him away from the Light. His peril is sensed by the Frostbearer. She rushes to his aid, only to be felled by the foreign hordes."

"Okay, so he was threatening humanity and you _had_ to step in," Laura said, tilting her head in thought, "but you died protecting him later."

"When the smoke of war clears, the world of man is in ruins, their mother star left scarred for time eternal with wounds and blight. The plague passes to mortal and divine alike, unchecked by any power—save that of the Blessed Star of Life and Light found in one man of the Mother's line."

"So you entrusted Eos's womb to the line of Lucis Caelum to protect, then gifted them with the Ring to communicate with the Crystal and begin an ancestral memory," Iggy said thoughtfully. "Perhaps implied the Chancellor would become King of a new kingdom if he healed the blight."

When Shiva lowered her head and didn't answer, Laura spoke. "No. It's more than that, isn't it? Because Lunafreya didn't actually heal the scourge, did she? Otherwise she would have ended up like Ardyn."

"Luna was NOTHING like that bastard," Noct growled, taking a step toward Laura, but she held a hand out, her face soft and sympathetic.

"I know that. But Ardyn _embodies_ the scourge." She turned back to Shiva. "While Luna probably only set it dormant, he eradicated it. You had him collecting it, didn't you? In him. How stupid could you be?"

"Wearied from war, the Six seek solace in slumber. The Healer, so close to his goal, is swayed by his power. Feeding on the dusk and embracing the darkness, he spurns the Dawn, effecting a life untouched by Time. The Messengers help to found the kingdom of light in the Mother's name and gift the Kingdom of Lucis with the tongues of Terra, her beloved homeland. Messengers plead the Mystic to subdue the Accursed until such time as the Chosen King can make his rest permanent, for now the Stone is no match for both the Blight and the Accursed."

"Oh, frack," Laura cursed, her eyes going wide. "Ardyn said the bloodlines were watered down with each new generation. Eos's power grew weaker in each king as the years went by."

"And with each King's death, another Lucii in the Crystal is collected, building the Power of Eos," Iggy said. His voice grew cold as he continued, "Noct is merely the last you need for it to be strong enough to defeat the Chancellor and heal the blight."

"You mean this whole Chosen King shit was just down to _math_?" Gladio asked, his voice cracking a little on the last word.

"It's more than the Lucis Caelum lines. Remember what Leviathan said?" Laura asked.

"The heirs of Eos are nearly gathered for the cleansing," the Glacian responded, "when the King of Light will house the soul of the star."

"But what does that mean?" Gladio demanded.

But Noct didn't need to hear the answer to _this_ question.

"It means I have to die," he said with finality.

The reasons why he had to do this didn't really matter anymore, what the hell housing the soul of a star would even mean. It didn't even really matter whose fault it had been—either Ardyn, Solheim, or the Six. The simple fact was that he had to do it, or the people, _his_ people would all die. Every single moron who had stood by their car in the middle of nowhere instead of walking to the road to get a lift into town for a repair kit, every cat that refused to eat raw fish, every person that needed their help over these past months—Cindy, Cid, Takka, Vyv, Monica, Dustin, Iris, Talcott, Sania, Navyth, Aranea, Coctura, that asshole Dino, Holly, Dave, Kimya and Ezma, Weskham, Camelia . . . —they would all be lost if he didn't do this.

He just didn't want to be kept in the dark anymore. He guessed that same logic should probably be applied to his closest family.

Turning to look them all in the eye, Noct said in a slow, steady voice, "All this time, you guys were protecting me. You guys . . . and Prompto . . . you've all stayed with me, and all it's done is caused you pain. If I'm really some kinda savior, then I'm gonna save the ones I love. But I need you guys to go on after this and continue helping the people . . . in whatever way makes you happy."

Ignoring Laura's stoic expression, Gladio's open mouth, and Iggy's firm resolution, Noct turned to Shiva, who spoke before he could say anything.

"Before long, the darkness will swallow the Six and the star they protect. This star's fate no longer rests in the hands of the gods. It sits on the shoulders of the Chosen. Deliver this world from darkness—and grant my love release."

"I'll do it," he said firmly. "But no more keeping secrets." When he heard Laura scoff in disgust, he looked over at her. "What?"

But she kept her burning eyes locked on Shiva as she answered, "Let's not even discuss how you should have been there for Luna that day or how you can apparently subdue _him_ with such ease," she sneered, flinging a hand toward the back of the car where Ardyn stood frozen. "These men are spending their one 'fragile life' in the 'foolish fancy' that they can clean up your mess. Yet their hope does not 'melt like snow in the sun's light;' it endures as the strongest diamond. How insulting is it that you claim you no longer have the power to protect the star, but leave them in the dark and make them walk through fire, water, and ice to receive your 'blessing'?"

"Power must always come at a cost. The Queen well knows this."

"Then bear the cost yourself," she snapped back. "You cannot play god then wash your hands of the things that you've created. Sooner or later, the day comes when you can't hide from the things that you've done anymore."

"The Six will bear the cost," Shiva responded coolly. "The heirs of Eos are nearly gathered for the cleansing."

Laura went quiet as her eyes widened. "Oh. I see," she said in a small voice. "It seems you truly _can't_ hide from the things you've done any longer."

Shiva bowed her head in acknowledgement, and before Noct could ask what they were talking about, her icy blue eyes slid from Laura back to Noct.

"The Oracle is no longer of this world, but her thoughts remain—and they must be known. The High Messenger is moved by the girl's determination to restore the light, her heart warmed by the girl's benevolence. Her faith in mankind is restored once more."

Noct had just enough time to register Laura's hand slapping on his shoulder before a swift, icy wind blew through his skull, shoving images of Luna and sylleblossoms behind his eyelids. The sky was a gradient of buttery yellow to brilliant blue, so different from the dim, hazy orange they'd just left, and the cool breeze seemed to set the puffy white clouds and indigo flowers alike to stirring as it tugged at the edges of Luna's short white dress and made the tips of her golden hair flutter.

Being able to see her face up close like this—without a mask—had she really been that beautiful?

" _If only I could . . . hear his voice once more . . . if we could laugh together as we did as children. If we could . . . live out our days together as we once dreamed,"_ Luna whimpered, hunching over and trembling with the effort of holding in her quiet sobs.

Noct had never really been the hugging type, but seeing her weeping like that . . . standing alone in that field of flowers where she had once wheeled his wheelchair out so they could play together . . . something ripped his heart at that sight, and he wanted nothing more in the world than to run and throw his arms around her, to tell her that he was there and he would never let her down again.

" _Others need not hide their grief. Is the Lady so different from them?"_ Noct heard Gentiana's voice ask softly.

" _No, she is no different at all,"_ Luna said, gulping down her sobs and shaking her head _._ Growing quieter, she said, " _She wants exactly what they do: to be with the one she loves. But want though she may, it is not to be."_

Oh Six, Luna—she _had_ loved him back, and gods, that was no comfort at all. In fact, it hurt like hell—an actual knife slowly being pushed into his chest. If he could just _touch_ her, just this once . . ..

" _The Lady's thoughts have been heard,"_ Gentiana said in a voice like glass. Reaching up to tenderly brush a tear away from Luna's eye with her thumb, she said, " _The love she bears the King shall never fade—and, in time, her feelings shall be known unto him. And if the words are not spoken from her lips, then the Messengers shall see that they are heard. The gods' favor and the Lady's love shall be with him evermore."_

" _Gentiana,"_ she breathed, grasping a hand in both hers, and if Noct was seeing things right, a single crystal tear rolled down the goddess's cheek and dripped into her long dark hair. _"I'm undeserving of your kindness. Thank you."_

Noct could've stayed there in that blissful paradise for eternity, watching Luna receive that act of kindness she'd been shown so little of in her life. But he was jarred back to reality when his brain suddenly began receiving messages from his eyes instead of the goddess—the frigid air making itself known again as he shivered in his jackets on his knees. Was this how it felt when Laura and Iggy did this? How could Iggy bear leaving his dream world every morning to face reality?

Turning his head really quick in both directions, he was surprised to find himself mostly alone with Shiva; only Laura stood some ways back by the door of the car, leaning against the wall like she was waiting patiently for the Glacian to finish.

Turning back to the hovering goddess in front of him, Noct murmured, "Thank you . . . for giving that to her."

"And so the promise is fulfilled. As her words go with him, so shall my blessing," Shiva said softly, spreading her hands to summon Luna's trident in a halo of sparkling blue. "O King of Kings, restore light unto this world. The King and the Frostbearer shall meet again—once the Chosen receives the revelation of the Bladekeeper at the Umbral Isle upon reflection."

He didn't know how or why Gentiana had gotten a hold of Luna's trident after he'd used it to earn the Mark of Leviathan, and at that point, he really didn't care. His jacket crackled with breaking frost as he reached up with a numb hand to take the trident, dismissing it to the Royal Armiger with a, "Thanks."

Without another word, the Glacian disappeared in a flash of blue, leaving Noct alone enough to quietly fall apart between frosted green pleather seats and that gods damned textured rubber. Glowing indigo flashed on the corner of his vision as he choked back the tears that were coming whether he liked it or not, and a delicate, velvet brush of something passing over his hand made him push himself up a little. Reaching out to gently stroke the edge of the petal, he hit the floor with his other fist.

Fuck, it was just so unfair. They'd both been cursed from the beginning, both been born to die. He'd set out to _finally_ save her, thinking he could _finally_ get her away from the Empire after they'd left her behind all those years ago, and she'd never even meant to get out of Altissia alive. Even if her death had been fated, why had she had to suffer her entire life? Why couldn't he have been there for her in the end?

"Luna . . . I'm sorry," he choked, hoping that if this ghostly sylleblossom petal could reach him, his words could echo across the void and reach her. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you. Not even . . ." he slapped the floor again in frustration, ". . . when you needed me most."

Six, had he known he was only gonna get one chance to tell her how he felt, he wouldn't've waited to sort all those swirling thoughts in his head. He would've told her right then and there at the masquerade and dealt with the consequences later, but no. He'd still been doing his stupid ass thing trying not to deal with the thoughts that made him sick, and he'd missed his chance.

"There was so much you wanted to say. So much I wanted to say," he said to the floor, hating how much his voice was shaking, "and now I'll never have the chance. I'm so sorry."

He'd been holding it back for what felt like eternity—this sickening wave of hurt—as _they_ continued to batter at the back of his mind like moving shadows, chipping away at his soul and stealing away what little there was left of him. He would surrender to it soon, on his own gods damned terms, but he was taking this moment to feel it—just as Laura had taught him.

And he cried. He cried like he had when his nanny died, when they'd left Luna behind in the fires of war, when he'd lost his dad and his home, when he'd let Luna down—just like he promised he wouldn't. The tears he'd been ignoring for so long finally spilled over his eyelids, burning his skin before freezing on his cheeks and the floor by his hands.

This time when he felt the delicate touch of a petal just on the edge of the pinky finger of his fingerless glove, he noticed the change of light and looked up.

 _Luna._

That same dress. Those sweet, smiling eyes. She'd always been so kind to everyone, always willing to set aside all the shitty things she'd been through to help anyone in need. He'd done a piss poor job of actually doing much about it, but she'd always inspired him to be as _good_ as she'd been.

"Luna, I love you," he choked, because who knew how long she'd be here to hear it? Even though he'd practically blurted it out, it still felt like the words had been ripped from his chest. Iggy'd been right. It _hurt_. Why did it hurt so much?

Her perfect lips twitched up a little more at his words, but her eyes grew large and sad. With trembling fingers, he reached out to touch her—just one touch, maybe one kiss, before he set out to join her. Of course, for all they'd done for the world, it couldn't manage to give him the one thing he wanted—to touch her skin _once_ like he hadn't since he was eight years old. She slipped through his fingers like vapor, leaving a cloud of sylleblossom petals behind to float down around him and catch in his hair. He caught one before it landed, holding the glowing talisman as tenderly as he would have her hand and letting himself go again.

"Luna," he gasped, the burn rising up in his throat. "You and I will be together again someday. I promise."

Pulling himself together, he leaned on the frigid bench armrest and hauled himself to his feet. With a deep breath that made his lungs ache, he turned to face Laura, who looked like she was pretending to find something fascinating about the frosted-over window.

"Sorry," she murmured when he shuffled closer, feeling a little dead inside. "I sent the others to de-ice the engine and check on Biggs and Wedge so you could have some privacy, but I couldn't leave you alone in here with _him_ ," she spat, nodding to the frozen Ardyn behind him. "No telling if he would've stayed like that with you distracted."

Noct took a step toward the man . . . his uncle . . . then another. He tried—he really did—to hold in that seething anger, directing it to his numb fingers to curl it into his fists. This was _all_ his fault. If he'd done what he was supposed to, none of them would've had to go through this shit.

"Noctis," he heard Laura call from behind him, and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she'd picked up on what he was about to do.

He didn't care.

"Damn you," he hissed, summoning his sword and driving it through where Ardyn's ice-cold heart should've been. "That's for Luna!" he spat, wishing it could be permanent. Without waiting to see what would happen to the pieces he'd left behind, he whirled and marched past Laura. "Come on," he growled. "Let's get this shit over with."

"Noct," Laura warned, catching him by the arm and spinning him in the direction he'd just come from.

"You know," Ardyn drawled, rolling his head on his shoulders and leaning casually against a train seat. "I feel I've earned the right to call you Noct." When his yellow eyes slid to where Laura had just stepped up beside Noct, he smiled patronizingly. "Now, now—this is between me and my dear nephew. Not _everything_ is about you, you know."

Looking down and away, Ardyn hid his eyes from Noct's scrutiny as he said in a wounded tone, "Your attack hurt me." He slowly turned his head to reveal his dark glare. "My feelings, at least. And after all the memories we've shared! Remember this? Ah! I should have asked if you remember _him_. Truly a blast from the past, nay?"

Instead of recoiling when Ardyn pulled out Prompto's quicksilver and pointed it at them, Noct lunged forward, reaching for its barrel. That was _Prompto's_ favorite gun—not his best, but he loved that it was randomly named after him and usually pulled it out first in a fight.

But Ardyn snatched it away before he could touch it, raising it in the air with an, "Ah, ah, ah, you mustn't take . . . what's not yours!"

"WHERE IS HE?" Noct demanded as Ardyn turned and sauntered a few steps away in his usual dramatic fashion.

"He?" Ardyn said with a gleeful little chuckle as he twisted to smile over his shoulder. "The little gunman's a short shot away. I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you. And you might even find your Crystal. With all these daemons about, you could certainly use it. Off you go then. I wouldn't want to keep you from your friend."

As he spoke, he slowly raised a fist in the air, his fingers wrapped around what looked like the kind of black clicky pen that Prompto would sometimes drive him nuts with when they'd study at his place.

"Hey!" Noct protested when Laura suddenly grabbed Noct by the shoulder, shoving him between the seats just as Ardyn pressed the little red button at the top.

She lay over him for several seconds like she was protecting him with her body, but the train car remained silent except for Ardyn's retreating chuckle and heavy thunk of boots on the floor.

"Laura?" Noct asked when he heard the door slam shut.

Laura moved off him and grabbed his hand to pull him to his feet. "Sorry," she muttered. "Thought it might've been a bomb . . .even if he shouldn't be hurting you until he gets what he wants, I couldn't take the chance."

"So you don't know what that thing was?"

She shook her head. "Much as I would like to, I don't know everything, you know."

"Seems like it sometimes," he chuckled, looking down at his boots. But then he remembered, "Are the others okay?"

Laura nodded first before tilting her head, her attention focusing inward as her blue eyes went blank. "Everyone's all right. They're just finishing up with the train. We should be getting underway in a few more minutes. Come on, let's move to the dining car and get out of this melting frost."

It was easy to ignore the scent of old oil on the air as he hopped up onto one of the stools, letting his head fall heavy into his hands and the marginal warmth of the place settle into his burning fingertips. Someone had scratched the word _Endlessness_ into the dark wood of the counter, and he skimmed the pads of his fingers over the wound as he heard Laura say, "You shouldn't have done that, you know."

"He deserved it."

He felt her sit down on the stool next to him, but he didn't look up from tracing the letters. She sighed heavily.

"I know it's hard," she said softly, her voice trailing off before she began again in a stronger voice. "I told you way back in Longwythe I wasn't going to offer unsolicited advice, but I feel like this is too important." Noct heard rather than felt her hand settle on his layers of jackets, and he finally dared to meet her eyes—so much like his own. He wondered what it would've been like to have a sister—someone to help him through this shit in every universe—someone like Iggy, but of his own blood. But then, he guessed she'd be slated to die, same as him.

"Please, don't let this harden you," she pleaded. "Consider mercy, Noctis. After all, there is darkness in all of us."

Noct's attention drifted slowly back down to the counter. As much as he hated the _idea_ of showing that bastard any kind of mercy, she was probably right. Luna definitely would've . . . but he had no idea what mercy really meant for a man he had no choice but to kill.

"Do you want to talk about it? Any of it?"

Noct blew out a breath and shook his head. "Honestly, it was easier when I didn't talk about any of this—feel any of this."

"Part of having feelings is learning to integrate them into your life, Noct . . . learning to live with them. No matter what the circumstances . . . sometimes it takes courage to try. Courage can be an emotion too."

Courage—he'd always managed to summon it in the heat of the moment, but when it came to something like putting that gods damned Ring on, he'd always been a coward. But could anyone blame him, really, for being in no rush to take on his role as King and hurtle headlong into death? Laura never had.

"Just . . . thanks. You know, for always looking out for us."

She stared at him for a moment with a fathomless expression before wrapping a hand around the back of his head and slowly pulling him forward until his temple touched her lips briefly. He thought, no matter what, this kinda thing would always feel weird to him, especially now that she was Iggy's wife, but he allowed the contact, wondering if this heavy flutter in his chest was what it felt like to love a sister. He could see it now—what his dad had seen in her all those months ago.

When she pulled back, her eyes were shimmering as she said, "Thank you, for letting me into your family."

He wasn't sure if he wanted to know this, but he found his mouth opening to ask anyway. "Was my . . .," he swallowed. "Was my dad scared?"

Her lips pulled down into a pitying frown that made him want to tear his eyes away, but he held her gaze as she admitted, "Terrified. But he faced his fate with his head held high, to protect you . . . and Luna."

And that was actually a relief to hear—that the strongest man he'd ever known had been scared to face death. "I guess it makes it easier when you have people you have to protect," he said quietly, thinking of Prompto, Iggy, Gladio, and even her.

"You have some time before it's supposed to happen," she said gently, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tightly. Her eyes moved over his face, searching for something, before she said, "Noctis, I swear to you, if there's any way in the world I can be there when it happens, I will be—like I was for your father."

Noct jerked his hands back and shook his head roughly. "No. I can't ask you to do that. I saw what happened to you back in Cartanica. I need the four of you to be there for each other in the end—protect them first and foremost. Besides," he squinted out the frost-lined window as the train jerked forward, "I have a feeling something's gonna happen when we get to the Crystal. I just . . . I dunno, feel it."

" _Something_ big is going to happen in Gralea," she confirmed. "I feel it too, but I don't know what it is yet."

"I just wish I had a choice in all this," he sighed, picking at a loose string on his coat cuff. "At least I know why it has to be me now, not that that makes it suck any less."

"As much as I wish I could tell you that we are all masters of our own fate, people like you and me, and even the other guys to a certain extent, are ruled by the laws of time. We can only be our own masters in the moments in between, in our flux points, and that's where our true potential lies."

"And we may yet be able to change the tides of fate, Noct," Iggy added as he strode into the dining car, "now that we have more information about what the Crystal requires to rid the world of darkness. We have _time_."

Laura looked away, her nostrils flaring a little as she spoke quietly. "We'll see. We'll certainly try our best." She let out a deep breath before sliding off the stool, skipping behind the bar, and placing a heavy pot on the stove. "Allons-y!" she said with a bright smile as she pulled a foil-wrapped bar from her Pocket. "We still have a few more hours until we reach Gralea. I think Biggs and Wedge have earned themselves some hot chocolate, and I've got this milk from a creature called a cow that's going to blow your mind."

Much to Iggy's somewhat reluctant amusement, Laura had whipped cream, chocolate drizzle, _and_ some of her mini marshmallows for him to use on her alien hot chocolate. It was a strange idea to be drinking milk from an animal that wasn't a sheep, but the flavor was milder, sweeter, less gamey; Noct found he kinda preferred it. And Iggy seemed to be inspired by it, even though he claimed he'd had cow's milk before, as he'd come up with at least four new recipes—at least, that was how many Noct had noticed as he sipped at his cocoa.

And then there was the marshmallows. Why the hell hadn't they invented those here yet? They probably should've had more of her s'mores while they were camping and had the chance.

But even though he was starting to get a little sleepy from the rhythmic rocking of the train beneath him and the crash after the sugar high, he found he couldn't rest with Gladio pacing back and forth in agitation, the phoenix fire still blazing in his restless brown eyes.

"We're almost there, Princess," Laura said sympathetically, setting a cup of coffee down in front of Ignis. He grabbed her hand before she turned away, and Noct could tell by the way their eyes met that they were exchanging some kinda gooey thank you. When Gladio passed by their booth again, she said, "Unfortunately, I'm sure there will be plenty of daemons for you to work that potion out on."

"I almost hope so. I'm losing my _fucking_ mind over here. Dunno how the fuck you managed to _sleep_ , of all things," he said to Iggy.

"I did tell you—" he began, but was interrupted by the screech of train brakes.

"What now," Noct muttered as they all stood and headed to the front of the car with quick, wary steps. Seemed like the best idea was to get to the engineers first, since they couldn't see anything in the black windows beyond.

"I haven't been able to see anything since we entered this tunnel," Laura said, frowning as they passed another window. "But there are a limited number of options as to what it could be, and none of them are good."

"My guess? Something to sidetrack us," Ignis replied darkly.

They'd made it to the sleeping car when a ground-shattering explosion yanked the floor underneath his feet and sent webs of sharp cracks spreading over the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Oi, uhh . . . city's tryin' t' keep us out . . . wiv the daemons," came Biggs's distorted voice over the loudspeaker just as three goblins slammed themselves against the broken glass and began crawling up the train.

"Doubted it was gonna be with unicorns," Laura muttered.

"Gotta run! Don't worry about us!" Biggs finished before the loudspeaker clicked off.

When a goblin jammed a bony fist into a nexus of cracks and crashed to the floor of the car in a shower of shards, Noct held out a hand and growled, "Let's get to work."

But the ultima blade he was calling for didn't appear in his hand.

"What's wrong?" Gladio asked.

"My weapons! They're stuck!" Noct yelled back.

"Guess we know what that trigger was for now," Laura said. "I can't access your armiger, either."

"Get back!" Gladio roared, raising an arm to shove Noct behind him as he leveled a kick at the goblin's head.

"Run!" Iggy shouted, and the four of them turned to the back of the train. He passed Laura as he ran, noting that her gleaming silver-white falchions were in her hands.

"I'll take point. Ignis, Gladio, heads up!" She tossed both falchions hilt-first toward Gladio and Iggy, who both reached out and snatched them from the air without stopping.

"Time these daemons received a little training," Iggy said with a smirk as he reached for the back door of the car.

Laura bit her lip for the briefest of seconds before pulling out a long silver-colored tube, decorated with the same kind of scrollwork Iggy had on his daggers. "Go on," she said, jerking her head. "Afraid I don't keep enough weapons around for all of us. Shouldn't even be using this one here."

With a nod, Noct sprinted after Iggy and Gladio, phasing to dodge the goblins and snagas that they hadn't managed to cut down or had broken into the train after they'd passed. Over the sound of breaking glass and the rumbling of the train being tilted on its wheels, he could make out an odd whirring sound coming from behind him. As much as he wished he could see what Laura was doing with that tube back there, he kept his eyes fixed in front of him.

"Only a matter of time before we run out of room to run!" Iggy called back.

"You got a better idea?" Noct asked as they hurtled through the dining car. Because as much as he hated the prospect, he did have a better idea, and while it didn't make him one ounce less afraid, he knew it was gonna have to happen eventually. It might as well happen when it was his choice. Reaching into his pocket, he grasped the Ring and clenched it in his fist, ignoring for the moment the familiar whispering at the back of his mind.

 _We're here. Come and claim your final legacy._

"We trade the train for the Regalia," Iggy said. "To the freight car!"

But as they dashed to the back of the train, past upended wooden crates, around boxes of canned peas spilling out into the aisle, and over fallen metal shelves, the flashes of movement in the dim lighting of the freight car made it all too clear that the daemons had beaten them to it.

"Gladio, cover me while I unhook the Regalia," Iggy shouted, throwing himself to the floor at the trunk as Gladio sliced through a snaga trying to leap at his back.

There were too many of them. With Gladio preoccupied keeping them off Iggy and Laura holding off more just outside the door with her mysterious whirring and flashes of gold light, Noct was beginning to grow a little frantic when it seemed like there were even more daemons crawling over the car after he'd kicked and punched off the ones he could reach.

It was time.

He took a quick, almost painful breath, allowing himself one last second to be plain old Noct, before he opened his fist, squeezed his eyes shut, and slammed the Ring onto his right middle finger.

Voices. Memories. Power. The Light and the Dark rushed into his head, shoving him to the side and shouting in his thoughts.

 _The Crystal. The Crystal. GET TO THE CRYSTAL._

But there was enough of him left to remember that he was only here to save his friends. Raising his hand to the Regalia, he commanded the full power of his family line to cast the car in a bright white, holy light, shriveling every daemon in its wake. Horror clutched at his heart to see the delta of ashy embers break out over his arms as the power left his fingertips, but that power of life endemic to his line sealed them back to healthy, if not a bit sensitive, skin.

Had he been allowed to live long enough, Noct knew those webs would eventually become scars as they had for his dad.

"Noct," Iggy breathed with wide eyes as he jumped to his feet, and Gladio let out a, "The fuck?"

Noct shrugged casually, even though his nerves were still dancing, and reached for the handle to the back door. "Figured it was time I stopped being dragged along and became King."

"We'll discuss this in the car. More are sure to be on the way," Iggy said as Laura flung the other back door open. "Are you certain _you_ shouldn't be doing the driving?"

Iggy didn't pause as he slid into the driver's seat and shut the door, but Laura answered, "Between your lessons and being more familiar with how the Regalia handles, you're still the best man for the job."

Noct could hear the smile in his voice as he started up the car. "Hmm."

The second Gladio shut the door after throwing the back of the train open, Iggy slammed his foot on the gas.

"Hold on!" he called out as the car flew into the air. She landed on the tracks, front tires first, with a screech and a jolt that tried to throw Noct into the back of Iggy's seat, locking his seatbelt in place.

"Damn it," Gladio growled. "This tiny ass sword is flying everywhere. How the hell do you even kill shit with these toothpicks?"

"At least you're finally living up to your name, Gladiolus," Iggy remarked as he swerved to miss an abandoned train car. "Tuck it between the seat and the console. It seems the city's auto-defense systems have been alerted to our presence, so there's about to be plenty more maneuvering."

"Just don't crash," Noct muttered, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the headrest.

"I appreciate your sage advice, but it'll take a bit more than a few jolts here and there to stop His Majesty's trusty steed," Iggy said wryly, but his voice grew heavy as he asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he said, lying through his fucking teeth, because _nothing_ would ever be all right again, "figured it was time I join the fight to rescue the Crystal . . . not to mention rescue all of _your_ asses."

"Spoken like your dad . . . like a true King," Gladio said with a heavy-hearted pride that Noct understood all too well.

"The Ring represents a great burden. Remember you don't bear it alone," Iggy said gently.

"You can say that again. You guys got my back?" Noct asked.

Laura put a hand on his arm as Iggy answered, "Always."

* * *

The engine spluttered and died just as his faithful Regalia fishtailed to a halt just outside what he sure as hell hoped was the fortress, but knowing Iggy, they were right where they needed to be. Iggy removed his hands from the wheel and sat back with a sigh. The oppressive silence in the cabin kinda reminded Noct of that first day out of the city when they'd overheated her engine, and they'd all sat there wondering just what the hell they were supposed to do about it.

They sure had come such a very long way.

"Looks like that's all she's got," Gladio said sadly.

"It'll do," Noct muttered.

"I must offer my most sincere apologies—" Iggy began, but Noct cut him off.

"No. We might've died if it hadn't been for you, Specs—and definitely wouldn't've gotten through the gate in time. Dunno where the hell you learned to drive like that."

"Besides, it depends on whether we can find a couple of airships when we get out of here," Laura said. "One for the Crystal and one for the car. Maybe we can get her back to Cindy."

"Yeah," Noct said, unclicking his seatbelt and opening the door as the others followed suit.

Despite what Laura thought, he knew that whatever big thing that was going down here was gonna involve him, and the voices whispering in the back of his head that were growing stronger by the minute were more than hinting that getting out of the city wasn't gonna be his problem.

Which was, in itself, a problem. How could he protect his friends if he wasn't gonna be there for any of it?

Noct took two steps toward Zegnautus Keep before turning back for one final, longing look at the forlorn and broken Regalia sitting alone in the dark—his last link to home, to his dad. He hadn't really thought about it, but that car had held his dad there with them in spirit, protecting them as they traversed deserts, forests, mountains, water, and snow. He tried to erase the smoke curling from the hood, the battered front end, the broken windows, and the scorch marks flung up the side panels. His mind's eye was suddenly transported just outside the Citadel—the bright sun shining through the Wall as his dad stepped out of the car and spread his arms and lips wide for a hug.

"Dad," he choked as a single whisper in the back of his head surged, "thanks for everything."

For the last time, Noct turned his back on the dead Regalia and marched into hell, his back straight and his head held high, with three of the four members of his family following behind him.

Prompto first, then the Crystal.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Courage speech from Star Trek. Can't hide from the things you've done speech from Battlestar Galactica.


	76. Chapter 76

The crash of the train car falling heavily onto the metal tracks below stabbed like cactuar needles in Gladio's oversensitive ears, and he took several running steps backwards, clapping his hands to his head to give him some kinda protection from the pain.

He had no fucking clue how Ig had lived through this the first time.

He'd taken a phoenix down before in the middle of a battle, and it'd been fucking awesome—improved his reflexes, made his mind sharper, gave him more energy. But sitting around like that for hours had only made him restless, agitated, and more than touchy to any kind of sensory input. With the way things had gone with Laura and Iggy, he'd expected it to be more of an aphrodisiac, but it seemed like a good fuck or a good fight like what he'd started back in the train would be equally good right about now to work off this crippling anxiety.

"Noct!" Iggy called out to the other side of the train car, darting toward the door to pry it open with his fingers. "The doors are stuck. Give us a moment, and we can crawl underneath to join you."

"I got company!" Noct called back as they searched for an opening large enough for them to crawl through between the train wheels. "Think he wants us to split up. I gotta run!"

Of all the times for the kid to grow a pair.

Laura suddenly flung a hand out across Gladio's chest, and he sucked in a deep breath as his nerves sang with the contact.

"He's right. Get back!" she said, pushing him away from the car as Iggy dashed away.

Not really understanding why he was doing so, Gladio threw himself toward the guardrail back by the broken-down Regalia—just as an explosion echoed through his head, searing heat across his back from the billowing orange and black fireball racing toward them. Laura shoved him behind the hood just as the flames passed over them, threatening to fry the hair off his head before he ducked lower.

"Is Noct all right?" Gladio heard Iggy ask over the roar.

Laura went still for several seconds, closing her eyes before she nodded. "He's being chased far and fast by daemons, but he has the Ring."

As the roar quieted to a series of cracks, pops, and flickering flames, Gladio fought the jittery urge to run out to the tracks, lift the burning train car over his head, and fling it to the side to get to his king by clenching his fist around Laura's sword tightly. "Test or not, we gotta get to him."

"Even out of commission, she's still protecting us," Laura murmured, running gentle fingers over the passenger door as she stood to look over the roof.

"She was nothin' like the Star of Lucis in terms of speed, but she brought us a long way," Gladio said sadly, standing to check out the damage. Didn't look like they could make it through that car, but maybe they could manage to scramble over one of the train cars flipped on their sides a couple over from the fire. "Even your Insignia had a helluva lot more get up and go, Ig."

As they rushed toward the train car Laura had pointed to, Iggy said, "To be fair, I had a much newer Quartz model, and was lucky to obtain an Insomnian-made vehicle at all. Still—" he said with a morose sigh, "would that I had destroyed mine and not His Majesty's."

"No point harpin' on it. Ya did the best you could," Gladio said.

They both handed Laura her falchions to dismiss to her Pocket before Iggy hoisted her up to the top of the tipped-over car. Iggy followed after, taking a running leap onto the kicked-out emergency exit on the roof before jumping up to Laura's side with her helping hand. As Gladio waited below, shifting back and forth and feeling the gravel crunch under his boots and vibrate against the soles of his feet, his instincts were screaming that everything was wrong about this situation. For the first time since leaving Insomnia, he was dependent on Laura for weapons, and the kid who'd finally proven himself a dependable king was fighting in the dark with the Ring and no Shield.

It kinda figured now that his resignation had transformed to his honor seemingly overnight, Gladio had lost the chance to prove himself and stay by Noct's side no matter what. And then Prompto. He had to find _some_ way to get 'em all back together.

With a grunt of effort as Iggy and Laura helped pull him up, Gladio hoisted himself onto the side of the train car and stood straight, looking out to the entrance of the Keep and the dim lights of the deserted city below and beyond.

"Looks like the way forward's pretty clear," he said, thrusting a chin the way Noct must've gone, "but it ain't gonna be pretty. Lotta daemons ahead, I bet." As Laura thrust her falchion into his hand and he forced his meaty fist under the rapier-like guard, he continued, "And these little stingers combined with whatever the fuck that tube's s'posed to be . . . I ain't liking our chances."

"We can't leave Noct to face the daemons alone. We must work with what we have, unfortu—" Iggy began, but froze and whipped his eyes down to the ground on the left. Though Gladio followed his gaze, he couldn't see a damn thing in this endless black that would grab his attention like that, but he readied his sword regardless. Ig was starting to prove he could sense things regular people obviously couldn't.

Gladio stumbled back a step as the tube Laura was holding suddenly _grew_ with a whispering whoosh followed by the buzz of live electricity. A gold ray of light, probably the length of his katana, flickered and hummed as she stood ready to face whatever threat she and Iggy could detect that he couldn't. As much as he wanted to ask her what the ever-living fuck she was carrying, he widened his stance again without a word.

"Perhaps I could be of service," Ardyn said in that condescending tone of his, stepping casually out of the darkness with a smug smile that made Gladio wanna punch him in the face—immortal ancestor of darkness or not.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Gladio growled, though he had to admit he was glad to see the fucker because it meant he wasn't torturing Noct or Prompto.

"Why, I come bearing gifts!" he said jovially.

Laura levelled a withering stare down at him, the illumination from her light-sword thing making her pale skin glow gold like when she was doing her time goddess magic.

"You wouldn't happen to be Greek, would you?" she asked.

Of course, Gladio didn't get the reference, but he pretended he had, smirking down at Ardyn's twitching brow.

"I thought you might like your weapons back," he said with a pout, holding up a black clicky pen with a red button on top.

Iggy tilted his head, not taking his sharp eyes off Ardyn. He and Laura must've come to a silent agreement, because the gold light shrunk back into the tube with a sucking sound before she dismissed it to her Pocket. Much as he wished he could've been in on the conversation, he had to trust their judgment of this guy, since they both seemed to have some kinda connection with his head space.

"It appears as though my carefully thought-out plans will have to be reconsidered," Ardyn sighed as Gladio reluctantly handed Laura her falchion along with Iggy. "It seems you, at least, need no assistance at all, my dear—almost as though you operate on a different wavelength."

"Always have," Laura said carefully, but Gladio kept his eyes locked on that trigger thing. The second Ardyn clicked it, he summoned Laura's broadsword to his hand, letting out a breath as he gripped the familiar weight in his palm.

Ardyn clicked it again before saying, "Now, I believe a thank-you is in order."

Taking two threatening steps forward and raising his blade, Gladio said, "For what—another one of your stupid tricks?"

Ardyn took a step back and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Here I am, helping for a change, but I can see I'm not wanted." Clutching at his heart before flicking a casual, back-handed wave in the air, he smirked and turned on his heel to stroll through another abandoned train car behind him.

"What the hell is that tube thing? And why weren't we using those instead of your tiny ass swords?" Gladio asked when he was pretty sure Ardyn had gone.

"It's called a lightsaber, and it needs me to work in this universe. I shouldn't be using it here at all . . . shouldn't be using tech that could change the course of history in a foreign universe. Can you dismiss those?" Laura asked thoughtfully, still staring into the dark.

Gladio reached out with his bond through Noct to the Crystal, his fingers tightening around the hilt as he failed to sheath the blade back into the pocket universe he'd grown so accustomed to using.

"No," Iggy said flatly.

"I thought not. It's like . . . I can still feel the Crystal, but she's like a word on the tip of my tongue I can't get out." Dismissing her blades, she shook her head clear and looked first at him, then Iggy. "Looks like you boys will have to handle things the old-fashioned way I guess." Another flash of silver light, and she was holding out a long, polished wooden sheath, decorated and capped with the kinda winding mythril vines that always seemed to decorate her stuff.

"For your belt," she added unnecessarily once he'd taken it from her and she'd summoned another two for Iggy. "Don't want to have to rely on me for weapons storage in a place like this."

"Thanks, babe," Gladio grunted as he hung the sheath and redid his belt. It'd been years since he'd had to use one of these, but he couldn't find it in himself to grumble about it; at least he had a sword that would fit his hands now. Laura hummed an acknowledgement before turning around and stepping down onto the wheels of the train car sticking out, descending to the other side. "You think he's gonna give Noct a weapon, too?"

"I very much doubt it," Iggy replied, frowning. "Else he would have simply left his device off. He wants Noct to use the Ring."

"Yeah, and by the way, how can he do that?" Gladio asked, climbing down the axle and leaping to the ground with a grunt.

"There were reports in the Fall that Niflheim had developed the technology to neutralize the Power of Kings. Obviously, these were more than simply rumors, and the Chancellor has brought the weapon back to the Empire for this little scenario he's cooked up."

Without so much as pausing to take in their surroundings, Iggy and Laura marched up to the abandoned train car Ardyn had just disappeared into, walking confidently through the door. Trusting whatever freaky ass instinct those two always seemed to use, he followed after, his nerves dancing under his skin as the still air tickled at the hairs rising on the back of his neck. He shivered and shook his head to clear it.

"You guys know where you're going?" he asked in a low voice as they strode up the aisle like they were heading for the breakfast car on a completely normal day.

"Follow her pain," Iggy said heavily, pointing to Laura. "The Chancellor is no doubt leading Noct to the Crystal."

"Shit," Gladio said, remembering Ravatogh. "That's gonna be an issue, isn't it?"

Laura swung around the corner, jumped out of the car, and strode to the long flight of metal stairs that would lead them inside. "It won't be as bad as Ravatogh. Eos and I have come to an understanding."

"Let us hope she remains understanding. There's no place in this entire city it would be safe to keep you otherwise," Iggy said as they passed through the kicked-open doorway.

Even if the place had been brightly lit, there were no clues to what kinda purpose the room must've served. It looked like it'd been cleared out in a hurry: crates, trash, wooden pallets, overturned lawn chairs, and piles of building materials made the dark rooms and halls look like a set stage in the little pools of light cast by the emergency lighting system and orange lamps placed strategically on crates along the walls.

And the place was crawling with goblins.

"Looks like he's been preparing this," Gladio said, remembering to pull out his sword instead of summoning it. "You sure Noct came through here?"

"I didn't see any other options," Iggy said as he delicately adjusted his glasses before springing forward with his daggers raised.

They worked their way up the hall without a word, the only sounds in the echoing concrete space being the thuds of metal and flesh and the occasional grunt of exertion. Gladio felt damned good letting that pent-up energy out in a fight longer than five minutes, and he probably buried the tip of his blade into the concrete a few too many times to send out those rippling pulses of power that knocked every goblin off its little booted feet in a ten-foot radius. Even though it was a fuckton lighter than his afrosword, the weight of it burned at his arm in a satisfying kinda way after a half an hour spent clearing out the little pests, leaping into the air, and swinging it in wide arcs to bring it crashing to the floor with a clamorous clang that made his ears ring.

"How you doing, babe?" Laura asked when they were clear, stepping up close and searching his face. He took a step back in case she tried to touch him again, but she seemed to have gotten the hint and didn't come any closer. It wasn't like he had this desperate need to fuck her if she drew too close or anything, but the shiver of sensation her touch sent through him made him uncomfortable. For as much as they joked around, she was like a sister . . . and Iggy's wife.

"It's fine as long as we keep movin'," he said, stepping around her and striding forward.

Iggy's reply stopped him in his tracks for a second, even though he and Laura kept walking. "Be thankful you don't have to resort to choking the chocobo. Turns out the battle comes in handy after all."

"The fuck?" he muttered as he unstuck his feet from the floor and took a few jogging steps to catch up to them.

Seriously, who the fuck was this guy anymore? Was he really not worried about Noct at all? This entire trip, Iggy had been the one practically dressing him in the morning, flinging himself between Noct and any enemy they encountered—justified or not. It'd kinda been pissing Gladio off, cause how was the kid supposed to grow up with Mommy always at his side? Now the five of them were separated in some kinda apocalypse movie set, and he was making _masturbation jokes_?!

"A radio," Iggy said suddenly, reaching out to a metal shelf along the wall. "Perhaps we can get some news as to the state of things out there."

"And maybe explain some things going on in here," Laura said. "The place shouldn't be open and deserted like this, no matter what Aranea said."

Gladio ignored the mention of _her_ name. They'd settled shit enough to get things handled back in Tenebrae, but he hadn't had the time to even think about deciding what he was gonna do if he ever saw her again.

With a click of the power button, a smooth, authoritative woman's voice seemed to bounce off the concrete walls and reverberate in Gladio's ears, sounding way too loud in the dark silence before Iggy turned it down.

" _Failure to evacuate will result in incarceration or other appropriate disciplinary procedures. This emergency broadcast will repeat until the situation has been resolved. The ISB thanks you for your cooperation._

" _. . . This is the Imperial Security Bureau. A situation has arisen in several research sectors. All civilians must relocate to their designated refuge stations immediately. Failure to evacuate will result in incarceration or . . ."_

Iggy flicked the radio off with another click. "It appears the situation has escalated even beyond the Commodore's bleak reports."

"Given the state of the place, it's probably all on automatic now," Laura said as she shuffled through the trash and papers on the shelf next to the radio. "But look—a report of some sort. No doubt Ardyn wanted us to see it."

"What's it say?" Gladio asked.

Laura began walking slowly to the next room as she read, "Military Applications of Mutative Plasmodia: In light of the large sample size, the test results can be considered conclusive: commonly occurring parasitic protozoa are the agents of daemonification. These findings pave the way for the weaponization of daemons, and the first step involves finding a way to control mutated organisms. This report recommends Minister of Research Verstael Besithia submit a detailed budget request for the Deathless Project."

"No surprises there. We already knew the Empire was making weapons from daemons. Aranea told you guys back in Steyliff," Gladio said.

"Yes, but they too thought the scourge came from plasmodia, and yet it seems they knew there was some sort of mind control element to the scourge that they thought could be programmed. This will give us a place to start searching for a cure—wherever malaria comes from on your planet, probably some kind of insect."

Gladio looked both ways as they passed through another deserted, trashed room and into an outdoor courtyard, his hands twitching as he grit his teeth against that gods damned potion. "We should try and find those refuge stations that announcement was talking about before we leave and see if we can't evacuate the people. Shove 'em in a ship somehow and bring 'em back to Tenebrae or Lucis."

"We may be able to manage two ships," Iggy said with a frown as he came to a stop at a balcony that overlooked the twinkling lights of the city. "Four, if we can manage to find Biggs and Wedge after this is over."

Gladio stepped up to the rail next to him, looking out over the silent city that reminded him far too much of Insomnia—but it was too damn quiet. Spookily quiet. He bet in its heyday, with the high skyscrapers and narrow streets, the train rolling past on the elevated bridge that intersected the city, and the Magitek engines swooping around Zegnautus, the noise must've been even worse than Insomnia, especially located in this bowl-like crater. Was this what Insomnia was like now? A massive ghost town? He shivered at the thought.

"I don't feel a lot of minds out there," Laura said in a low whisper. "I mean, my range doesn't extend far beyond the compound, but I should be feeling at least general life in the city."

"A city this size—it's dead silent," Iggy gasped softly.

"More like undead silent. Place is crawling with daemons. Maybe they used up their entire population on MTs and other weapons," Gladio said, hoping it wasn't true.

A flash of black and red swooped over their heads, and Gladio's eyes shot to the sky, his hand going to the hilt at his hip.

"Fuck me," Gladio breathed, relaxing a little when the giant winged creatures made no move toward them. "Are those things daemons?"

He'd never seen anything like them in his life— three heads arranged in a row with long, pointed snouts; three high, bony dorsal fins; and a single long tail . . . dozens of them loomed on silent bony wings around the Keep with glowing red eyes, floating on the air in a way that seemed unnatural.

So he wasn't too surprised when Iggy said, "Yes. Judging by the description, I believe they're what Aranea calls gayla—one of the rare non-violent species of daemons, only appearing in the most infested of areas."

"Oh," he said dumbly, twitching a little as one floated silently past. He wondered what kind of people they used to be, and why some turned into gaylas and others into goblins. "Let's go find Noct and Prompto before we end up joining them."

Winding, twisting hallways in the dark, filled with goblins, arachnes, and the eerily twitching rogue MTs Aranea had warned them about—it wasn't the battles tensing his muscles and putting him on edge. They felt like busywork. They felt like the kinda crap that was accomplishing nothing but holding them back from getting to Noct, who was all alone in this shitty place with a new weapon that sucked the life out of him.

Gods damnit, this was all his fault.

"How much more of this shit?" he grumbled. Clenching his jaw, he glared over at Laura. "How far away's his mind, damnit?"

"I know you're frustrated, but you need to calm down," Laura said in that smooth, logical tone that Iggy would sometimes use with Noct when the kid was being unreasonable. But he wasn't being unreasonable, for fuck's sake. They'd never been in this deep before, and Iggy and Laura were acting like it was just another day.

"That asshole could be doing anything to either of them!"

"He's likely doing the same thing to them as he is to us. The Chancellor strikes me as the type that allows an enemy to stew in the hell created by one's own mind, rather than getting his hands dirty with active torture," Iggy said.

Laura nodded in agreement. "You're only giving him what he wants by getting agitated, and I know that potion isn't helping . . ."

"I'm fine."

"Hmm," she said noncommittally, her lips twisting as she stared at the floor. After a few seconds of tense silence, she said, "I don't like the looks of these hallways. There's plenty of cover should we come across anything with all this random crap in the way, but I should scout ahead."

Gladio narrowed his eyes after her as she trotted silently up to the end of the hall. She poked her head around the corner, looked both ways, and disappeared. Weird as it felt to lose sight of her like that, he guessed having her scout and report back would act kinda like a glimpse into the future for him and Ig.

But then the real reason for this little separation became obvious. He shoulda known.

"Don't you think it's time?" Ignis asked quietly, patiently.

"For what?"

"To let him go a little—let him learn what sort of King he is on his own. To prove to himself that he is the man we've always seen in him." When Gladio raised an eyebrow at him out of the corner of his eye, Iggy continued, "Well, the man _I_ always saw in him."

"Heh. Been shovin' the little snot since the attack as a kid, and you were always so calm." He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared down at the long line of metal grating on the floor. "All this time, and I've been shovin' him straight to his death. Fuck, I gotta tell him I didn't mean it like that."

"Part of you had to have known," Iggy said gently, also looking down the hall as they walked. "Though I'm quite familiar with the difference between suspecting and knowing for certain. I must say, you're taking the news admirably compared to me. Still—I've learned well the lessons of what happens when I take my duty too far . . . in more than one universe, it would seem."

"When'd _you_ find out?"

For a few seconds, it seemed like he wasn't gonna answer, until he said shortly, "Altissia."

The altar? Any one of the number of private moments Noct and Iggy had shared after? Dark as those times were, he wasn't gonna ask—because either way, he hadn't taken it well. Might explain why he was almost fucking serene right now; he'd had time to get used to the certainty of it.

"Guess I shoulda known somethin' was up in Tenebrae. Kept sayin' weird shit like he was tryin' to set me free or somethin'. He knows that's not gonna happen, right?"

"I think he was merely allowing us to cast aside our preconceived notions regarding what our duties entail," Iggy said thoughtfully. "But so long as there's even the slightest possibility we can overturn his fate, I hold fast to my previous plans."

"Hey, Ig?"

"Hmm?"

"How'd you always just . . . _know_? You never wavered, not for a second."

Iggy let out a long, weary sigh, running his gloved fingertips up his spiked bangs as he closed his eyes for a second. "I've known him since he was a toddler. It _always_ took some pushing, but he eventually did all that was asked of him. As long as I kept asking him to become a good King, I knew it would happen someday."

"That's it? _That's_ what you staked the entire future of the world on?"

"What do you mean, 'that's it'? Merely a lifetime of habit. Perhaps a calculated risk, but hardly much of one in my mind."

"You always were a gambler. I just didn't know it," Gladio chuckled. "But—turns out you were right this whole time."

"I _am_ rather brilliant," he replied with a smug smile, but his lips twitched down to a frown as they turned the corner into another empty hallway. He watched Iggy's expression carefully to make sure he was only reacting to their conversation. When he didn't grow alarmed, he figured Laura must've been clearing out the next hallway while they had this little heart-to-heart. "You're still agitated though."

"Your wife tell you that?"

"Give me a little more credit than _that_. Why does everyone keep assuming my every attribute is due to her? I'm beginning to wonder if any of you knew me at all before we left."

"Been sayin' that to myself since the first night we got outta there."

"Really."

Gladio jumped and reached for his sword at the sound of Ardyn's teasing drawl, but twisting his head to locate its source, he spotted the speaker in a corner, strategically placed so the voice would echo perfectly for maximum creepiness down the dimly lit hallway.

"Right this way, gentlemen," Ardyn coaxed. "Keep going . . . a little closer . . ."

"Second I see that guy, I'm gonna cut his fucking head off," Gladio growled as Laura turned the corner and headed back to them with swift strides.

"Much good that will do," Iggy muttered before stiffening as Laura drew closer. "She can feel Prompto."

"He okay?" Gladio asked when she stopped in front of them. "Is he with Noct?"

"Such good boys," Ardyn crooned as a section of wall next to them gave a little hiss before sliding open.

"They're separated still—both okay, though Prompto is more . . . upset than Noct," she said vaguely, but she didn't need to elaborate for him to know what Prompto was probably feeling right now.

"Whaddya think this new game is?" Gladio asked, thrusting his chin toward the open wall, which led to another nearly identical hallway, surprisingly clear of daemons.

"It's a dead-end the other way, so it's not like we have much choice," Laura replied with a shrug, stepping into the passage. "He _is_ leading us in a vague, meandering way toward the both of them."

"I guess forward it is, then," Gladio agreed, following her around the corner into the next room. "Place is a mess. Watch your step."

"A communications room, of sorts," Iggy said, pointing at a wall of gauges like he'd seen back at Meldacio and the Prairie Outpost. "Radio transceivers . . . perhaps this radio is picking up a different frequency."

A hiss of static, and a similar authoritative female voice crackled through the speakers.

" _This is a status report from the Imperial Defense Force. The daemon outbreak stemming from several research facilities has been suppressed in most areas. Magitek infantry units have been deployed to remaining sectors. The situation is under control . . ."_

"Wow," Laura breathed. "Propaganda like that, the city probably didn't see it coming in the slightest."

"Bet they never thought their little 'pets' would bust outta their cages," Gladio said.

"I doubt even the daemons could simply escape from such a secure facility. It's more likely their 'master' set them free," Iggy said darkly as he slowly poked his head through the next doorway. "But look, there's a full monitoring station just beyond. Perhaps we can get eyes on Noct or Prompto."

"I doubt it'll be that simple," Laura said as she crossed the room, marched up to the left-most bank of monitors, and started fiddling with the buttons. "Ardyn led us here though, which means he wants us to see something. You two check out the other stations."

As Iggy took the panel next to her, Gladio came to stand hesitantly in front of the last one, eyeing the array of joysticks, buttons, monitors, and all the other shit he didn't really know what to do with. Looking over at Iggy and Laura working furiously, he said sheepishly, "I'm uh . . . kind of a low-tech guy."

Iggy pulled his hands away from the controls and stood straight to give him the kinda exasperated stare that had earned him his nickname back home.

"Honestly, when do you believe I would have received training on Niflian monitoring station technology?"

"Uhh . . ."

"Come now, don't pretend to be the mindless drone at the eleventh hour when I know what you're capable of. Half the battle is merely reading what the buttons do and deducing the rest. Go on then."

"Yeah," he nodded and stepped closer to the controls. "I'll see what I can do."

"I found a diary entry, of sorts," Iggy said, staring at his screen. "It seems someone attempted to leave a final message. 'More than half the Keep's inhabitants are now daemons. There's no hope of neutralizing them, not with control lost over the MTs. Outside, the city swarms with yet more daemons—former citizens. There's no escape.' That certainly explains the state of things here, not to mention the city outside."

"Yes it does, but now we just need to find out how to get to Noct and Prompto, unblock the Crystal's powers, and get to the Crystal. Maybe we can find some more clues. Keep looking," Laura said.

And looking wasn't as bad as Gladio thought it was gonna be—waking up the monitors, checking out the database to see that only two file names were on the list . . . in a base this size with this many cameras?

"I don't see Noct, Prompto, or the Crystal on any of these cameras, and it looks like everything's been wiped," Laura said as Ignis hummed in agreement. "Tried reconstructing deleted files from the drives' free space, but it looks like they already overwrote everything."

"Think I got a couple files on here," Gladio said, double clicking the first on the list. "Looks like we're s'posed to see somethin'."

The other two came to stand beside him as he stared up at the static on the twelve monitors above them. The fuzz cleared into a larger-than-life image of an old man sitting back on a throne, a familiar figure standing tall in front of him.

Gladio had to give Ravus credit for having the balls of Bahamut to defiantly stand there and declare Noct the True King—even if he didn't really understand what Ravus had hoped to gain by it. His sword was in his hand, so he was clearly gonna do _something_ , but Gladio had long ago learned that stating intentions before an execution was pretty much a waste of time.

Still—if he'd managed to get rid of the Emperor for them . . . maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

"The vapor," Iggy said under his breath as the camera turned again in Iedolas's direction. "The Emperor was infected . . . and clearly mad—declaring himself the True King."

"I could see the scourge being capable of turning a man mad," Laura said in a small voice, and Gladio glanced down long enough to see her troubled expression and Iggy stepping closer to put a hand on her shoulder. Huh. He'd never really thought to ask what she'd gone through those couple of weeks she'd been dead. He'd just assumed she'd been . . . dead. Even though he didn't regret locking her up like he had, he still kinda didn't like to think about his role in her recovery.

Gladio couldn't say he was all that surprised when he looked back up at the screens to see Ravus being blasted out of the throne room by three liches; he only wished the guy'd been able to get in a few good licks to the Emperor beforehand.

When the screen dissolved into static again, he leaned forward and clicked on the next file. "There's one more."

It took him a second to recognize the heap on the floor, and he realized Ravus must've fallen from a high place when he'd been blown out of the throne room, given how heavily he was leaning against his sword, grunting in pain, as he struggled to get to his feet.

"Noct," Iggy whispered, taking a step toward the screen as a second figure sauntered into view. "Where is this exactly?"

"It's not Noct," Gladio said. "File said this was recorded a while back . . . before Prompto was taken even."

"The Chancellor? But surely he would know Lord Ravus is capable of recognizing him through his disguises. He did so in Altissia."

"Doesn't look like he was so lucky this time," Gladio muttered as Ravus shakily held out King Regis's sword to not-Noct.

" _Now go forth, my king. Shine your light unto the world,"_ Ravus said with a shuddering breath.

There was no question of Ardyn's true heritage when he summoned a Royal Arm and, in one swift, sure stroke, cut the glaive and Ravus's Magitek arm clean at the joint. Picking up King Regis's sword and driving it deep into the floor next to Ravus's seemingly dead body, not-Noct's voice slowly began to deepen, growing bitter and mocking as he spoke.

"You tried to save the world in my stead, but it wasn't enough. The Crystal chose me—not you."

By the time he rose to his full height, tossed a few papers casually over Ravus's supine body, and waltzed off, not-Noct had fully melted into the Ardyn they all knew and hated.

"Aww, rejection hurts, doesn't it?" Ardyn sneered as the screen went black.

"Looks like he's really rubbing his hate and suffering into the other heirs of Eos," Laura said, still looking up at the monitors. "Ravus . . . why did he even come back here if all he was going to do was die?"

"I get the impression he was inconsolable after Lady Lunafreya's death," Iggy answered. "Perhaps he wasn't thinking clearly."

"Let's move," Gladio said, leading them toward the elevator in the corner. "If that's what he did to Ravus, there's no telling what he'll do to Noct."

"Fortunately for us, he needs Noct to get to the Crystal, so all he can do to make Noct suffer is to toy with the rest of us. I can only hope that Prompto isn't bearing the brunt of it," Iggy said as they stepped in. "In the meantime, Noct should be safe."

"That's a hell of an assumption!" Gladio growled as he glared at the two of their perfectly calm but perplexed expressions staring back at him—like _he_ was the one who was nuts. With a shuddering clank of metal gates, the elevator began to rise, and he took this moment of safety to close his eyes in an attempt to get a hold of himself.

Maybe he was the one going nuts. He usually had a better handle on himself than this.

He couldn't take this shit anymore—the _knowing_ things from telepathy, aliens, other universes, visions, magic . . . the two of them were staking all their lives on something Gladio couldn't know or understand, learn or even be a part of. Sure, he operated on instinct from time to time, but crunch time was here. The moment that Gladio's entire life had been leading up to, where he was gonna have to stand beside the King and do what he needed to do to protect him was right. fucking. here, and they were stuck playing along with these games in this stupid ass maze and trying to rationalize the actions of a psychopath.

And Gladio had never wanted to do his duty more in his life—stick a sword in the man that was threatening his king, murder the creep for being the one that was gonna be responsible for Gladio failing in his life's purpose, no matter how hard he tried or how much power he'd acquired. For all he'd been through these last few months, Gladio had _still_ never wanted to actually kill anything in his life except Laura . . . until now. At least he would be feeling something other than this fucking uselessness wandering these fucking halls and being deliberately led into a trap. As it stood right now, he was nothing but a Shield with no King to protect.

"A cargo bay, of sorts," Iggy said when the elevator stopped and the doors opened. "Which means the Crystal must have passed through here at some point. Perhaps there's a lift up ahead they might have used to take it up top."

"That's where you're feeling it?" Gladio asked Laura with a weary sigh.

She nodded, staring right through him like she knew everything he was thinking.

"All right then. Let's go. Guess we're still headed in the right direction if Ardyn's got company waiting here for us," he replied, nodding toward the goblins and reapers growing up out of the concrete catwalks suspended over the cargo bay.

Again, the three of them were quiet as they progressed across the room, cutting their way through the waves of daemons. Gladio couldn't decide if he was even more pissed off for the extra busywork or grateful for the opportunity to shove his mythril into something that sort of bled, but he didn't have much of a choice in the matter, so he kept at it, smirking to himself a little with each scratch of claws against his skin, each puncture wound from teeth.

Ardyn was gonna fucking pay for everything they'd all been through—especially Noct and Prompto. Yeah, he might not be able to kill him, but Gladio could make him suffer.

"Why do you insist on keeping up this mortal charade—with your adorable little swords?" Ardyn's voice sounded over the speakers as they snuck warily past a line of quietly parked Magitek armors. Gladio held his breath as he thought he saw one twitch in the shadows. He dared it to fucking wake up and come at him.

"I grow ever so weary of your pretenses, my dear," Ardyn continued. "That power of yours could end this on a mere whim."

"And we grow tired of these games!" Laura called back up to him. "You want to chat again? Fine. Stop playing, come down here, and find me."

"This must be the main elevator to the top of the Keep," Iggy whispered, pointing to the massive cylindrical structure in the center of the next room. "We're getting closer. Hurry!"

It wasn't until the curved door closed around them, cutting them off in the confined space, that Ardyn's voice oozed again over the speakers, making Gladio's skin crawl.

"Perhaps another time. I _am_ busy with your other little friends at the moment. Had you been a little more cooperative, it could've been you and your dearest love I could be chatting with now."

"Yes," Iggy said quietly as though answering a question Laura hadn't asked aloud. "We must be close."

"How the hell can you two just keep . . . ignoring shit like that?" Gladio asked tilting his head to look up at the speaker grill.

Iggy turned to face him, his brow furrowing. "Screaming back at him is hardly going to do us any good, is it? And given the progress we're making, it seems as though he means for us to reunite. Are you certain you're all right?"

"I'm fine," he muttered, trying not to give himself away by clenching his jaw as he stepped out of the elevator and stalked his way across the raised gangplank . . .

. . . and into another maze of hallways filled with metal barrels, plastic storage tubs, propane tanks, and fucking hoses lying in the middle of the floor? Relief from that crawling, rolling, slimy feeling in his gut came in the form of another door in front of them sliding open to reveal another monitoring station—this time with a bank of screens showing nothing but the Crystal.

"Finally. There it is," Gladio said, rushing to the computer banks. He scooped up the scattered papers and handed them to Laura, knowing that her alien reading speed would gather a helluva lot more information faster than he could.

"If it's anything like the Citadel, there should be a barrier barring access," Iggy said, moving to the next control panel and beginning to press a bunch of buttons like he knew what the fuck he was doing. "Yes, I think I should have it here in a few moments."

"Listen to this," Laura said, her eyes widening as she read one of the sheets Gladio had handed her. "'Wallbreaker Wave Test Report: The wave produced exceptional results in real-world conditions, effectively inhibiting the Kingsglaive's warping and spellcasting abilities—powers that operate on the selfsame principle as the Wall of Lucis. The report concludes that the wave can neutralize not only the Wall, but all magical phenomena exhibited by Lucian royalty. Moreover, based on the data acquired from the encounter with Shiva, an enfeebling effect on the Six can also be anticipated.'"

"The machine that won them the war, that's responsible for us being rendered helpless . . . is the same machine they used to defeat the Glacian?" Iggy asked, turning to stare at Laura.

"Not just that. This Wallbreaker is likely the same machine they used to keep Eos in her place, too," Laura replied.

"That thing pointed at the ground in Costlemark's basement," Gladio said. "Makes sense. Niflheim's been stealing from Solheim's old technology for years."

"Yes," Iggy said as he got back to work. "Likely led along by the Chancellor, who may have been around to see it the first time. All right. I believe I've got it."

The three of them stared up at the screen as the large spherical room holding the Crystal became the focal point of the monitoring station, the red laser beams over its circular opening flickering for a moment before disappearing.

Finally—some progress.

"Good goin', Ig."

"And Noct is close. Very close," Laura said, dismissing the papers. "Let's go."

But the second Gladio turned around, Laura held a hand out to stop him, staring at a spot on the floor.

"Thieves cannot escape the hand of justice!" the black puddle forming in the middle of the floor hissed.

Gladio eyed the thing as it grew up from the floor. He'd encountered one daemon before this that could talk—that naga from Fociaugh Hollow—but it hadn't been quite so . . . lucid.

"The Crystal is mine. Never shall I loose my grip!" it roared as it took on . . . some kinda form Gladio had never seen before.

"What the hell is that thing?" Gladio asked quietly, turning his head toward Iggy and Laura, but he didn't take his eyes off the skinless, slimy insectoid creature that kinda reminded him of the Ixali beastmen—but spikier, slimier, and definitely putting off scourge miasma.

To Gladio's surprise, Iggy let off a cloudburst of sparkling gold dust as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "And what the hell was _that_?"

Really, at this point, Gladio was just waiting for the day when Iggy just came out and confessed he was one of the Six.

"You learned to analyze," Laura said in awe, her face transforming into a wondrous smile like there _wasn't_ currently a monster taking form and preparing to bear down on them all.

Iggy nodded. "On the train. Not much you can do here, I'm afraid," he said to Gladio as he pulled his daggers from their sheaths, "but I've got the lightning. Laura, I recommend you refrain from using magic this close to the Crystal."

Laura pulled out her falchions in a flash of silver light and a little shriek on the air, and she winced a little at the sound. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Gladio stepped a little closer to her for a second before advancing on the daemon in front of him. Seemed like she wasn't affecting his instinct in any kinda way like she did sometimes. Convinced he wasn't suddenly gonna turn on her in the middle of battle, he put all his thought into the fight.

He had to trust that Ig knew what he was doing, the way he was zipping around the daemon, lightning striking the ground with every slice into the daemon's wet flesh, because he was moving way too fast for Gladio to keep track of as he heaved his sword into its rubbery wing joints. He knew for a fact that even in the middle of a fight with another enemy, Laura would never get hit by friendly swings as she, too, flitted around the twelve-foot-tall creature, leaping onto its back, reaching around its torso, and slicing her blades across its chest.

Months of killing shit like this off, and they'd all gotten good at knowing when they'd worn a target down, at coordinating the attack to finish them off. As soon as that bony, withered body started sagging, the ribs under its skin heaving, Gladio caught the eyes of the other two and nodded. The tongues of lightning licking at Iggy's blades seemed to brighten as Gladio hefted his sword over his head and brought it down hard in his impulse technique, sending rippling waves of force through the concrete to knock the daemon back. As he bent farther forward, he felt Laura hop up onto his back, using him as a springboard to leap at the daemon and slice a falchion across its neck, sending its head rolling across the floor before it disappeared in a pool of miasma. The body took a small, stumbling step forward on clawed feet before it, too, melted away, revealing Iggy's brandished flickering blades.

"Good teamwork," Gladio grunted. "That sounded like the Emperor's voice."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we just killed the Emperor," Laura said between heavy breaths, dismissing her blades.

When Iggy stepped up close to her, staring down under his lenses, Gladio said quietly, "Yeah, I know what you guys are talking about in there. Share the answer with the class."

"It's not a problem yet," she said, raising her chin in defiance up at him. To his relief, her breath seemed to even out, but he knew that look.

"But it's gonna be."

She broke eye contact, walking to the door that would lead them further in. "Come on. Noct's just a couple halls away."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Ignis's Insignia: it's stated in Prologue that Ignis mostly drove Noct around in his car. The reddit admins reminded me that we actually see Ignis's car in Brotherhood. Is it still the same one after all these years? I'd like to think so, as those Quartz cars clearly last a while. _Insignia_ is just what I decided to call it.

The convenience of how the Wallbreaker worked to give Ignis and Gladio their weapons back in game was just…wrong, as it's a sort of AoE weapon, not point and shoot like that. So I changed how that worked for consistency's sake.

According to the incredible admins on the reddit server, the file in-game for those three-headed shark-dragons is labeled "gayla," so that's what I'm calling them.

I've mixed in documents that are actually found in the main part of Chapter 13.


	77. Chapter 77

_I can't choose where I came from, but I can choose where I'm going._

Yeah, turned out that wasn't quite as true as he'd thought.

No control over his own arms or legs. No ability to take action. This was probably what it really felt like to be an MT—a dead soul left to dangle in a metal contraption with no exposure to light or sensation.

At least losing the feeling from his fingertips to his ribs meant he couldn't feel the stabbing pain from hanging with his boots brushing the bottom of this contraption anymore. Silver lining, right? He wasn't really feeling much besides cold; not even his eye and nose were hurting from when that kaiser behemoth had made him crash the snowmobile. It seemed like the only torture there was left to feel was the thoughts beating at his brain meat. The slightly threatening bottles of chemicals lining the shelves, the sets of handcuffs, and the creepy table with torture instruments next to a tipped-over chair weren't exactly improving the décor or helping boost his spirits. It was like a stage in this prison-like place, but he couldn't decide if it'd been set to torture Noct or himself.

He'd always been better than anyone at torturing himself.

It was easy to name that feeling clawing at his chest because he'd been hanging there for what felt like days with nothing to do but feed it—fear. Was he gonna get rescued before he died of dehydration? Would they even _want_ to rescue him? What if Ardyn told them all what he was before he'd had a chance to explain that he hadn't known? That he hadn't lied to them all? It was gonna look like he'd turned on them.

Or even worse, what if they didn't know yet, and he was gonna have to be the one to tell them? What if they didn't believe him and just left him here in this creepy daemon apocalypse nightmare to die? As much as he wouldn't blame them, he didn't want to die. And now that the time for rescue or death was coming up quick, he wasn't so sure anymore if he could handle watching their faces change as he told them what he was—that he was even more of a fake than he'd originally thought. No wonder it'd been so hard to make friends all his life: they'd probably all sensed deep down that he'd never been a person. He'd been a _thing_.

It'd been one thing to say he'd been born in Niflheim. Aranea had been born in Niflheim. He just hadn't thought to ask her if she had a barcode tattoo on _her_ wrist, too—not that anything but this most recent little vacation would've cleared anything up.

Actually, a lot of things were starting to make sense about his life now. If a spy had stolen him from a lab in Niflheim and given him to his parents in Lucis, no way could they've been normal people, which might've explained why they were really never around. He shoulda known that the 'secret research for the government' that kept them poor enough to have to be at work at all hours of the day and night had been code for something—especially since they'd had enough money to live in the district that would send him to the same public school as the Prince of Lucis.

Even the way he'd suddenly felt so at home the first time he'd held a gun in his hand at the arcade, the way he'd always been a crack shot without having to think about it—he'd been born a killer without a killer's instinct. He was good with machines because he fucking _was_ one.

Or something.

How did that work, really? Was he gonna grow up to look like that maniac? What if he actually went nuts like that guy did and turned on his friends? Maybe it _would_ be better if he died here. He just didn't know anything anymore—except what he wanted. No fucking way did he wanna be MT Unit # 05953234. He was gonna be Prompto Argentum, Prince Noctis's grateful and faithful sidekick.

Seriously, this was some kinda karma or something for liking comics so much, wasn't it? He'd wanted to be more than what he was his entire life, and now he'd gotten his wish. Figured.

But he wasn't stupid. When Ardyn had showed up to 'rescue' him from the behemoth and brought him to wherever the hell he was now to rot, he knew he was bait. He just wished he could do something about it—warn Noct that it was a trap, maybe rescue himself, or find some kinda way to save them all the trouble.

"Not exactly gonna be leaving this place a five-star review," he chuckled nervously into the dark. "You're sooo gonna lose your superhost status!"

Noct would come for him, right? He remembered what Iggy'd said about Ardyn being able to disguise himself or create illusions or something, so it'd just been that, right? Of course they'd come for him. Keep a positive attitude. He'd get rescued so he could tell Noct he wasn't a fake and hadn't been all along. He'd made his decision in the Fall when he'd first started killing MTs, reaffirmed that decision when he started killing Niflian soldiers, and solidified it when he shot a clone of himself in the head before heading off to kill . . . his creator. It was telling Noct that last part he wasn't sure he could stomach . . ..

* * *

Something hit the back of his neck hard, and he flinched, digging the bars holding his ribs to the contraption he was strapped to deeper in. Had he fallen asleep? He was so gods damn tired, but he couldn't be doing something dumb like falling asleep right now. He swore he could feel the thudding of boots on his skull as they got heavier and louder, and he figured this was probably the part where he'd start hallucinating. He hoped it got good soon; one of Iggy's nice, hot meals would be so good right about now.

It was the knives stabbing him in the arms that really brought him to full awareness as he instinctually brought them forward to keep his face from hitting the concrete, but a pair of arms wrapped under his armpits and slowly lowered him to the floor. He guessed it was a good thing he couldn't really feel anything below his ribs this time, since it was all he could do to keep from crying out and collapsing onto the ground once he'd been let go.

Cutting through the haze of agony were Gladio's and Iggy's voices.

"You all right?"

"Are you hurt? Do you need help?"

The pain pulsed as something warm gripped both his arms—over and over—working from his shoulders to his wrists in quick, tight squeezes, and he had to scrunch his eyes tighter and press his lips together to keep the whimper in his throat from escaping any more than it did.

"I know," Laura murmured, pressing her lips to the top of his head. "I'm sorry, but this will help them feel better faster. You're too worn down, and it's been too long, so that potion could only do so much."

"I'm fine," he lied, pushing himself to his knees with a grunt and opening his eyes to see the rest of them standing over him and Laura as she continued to massage his trembling fingers.

"We were right," he blurted out—because he swore being of use was gonna be the first thing he did when he got back together with everyone. "There was one of those machine things at this Magitek production facility where I was . . . like the basement in Costlemark. And there was a . . . guy there. Trying to become immortal by turning himself into a huge daemon weapon thing."

"That's good to know, dear. Probably the Wallbreaker that took out Shiva," she said gently, placing her hands on his cheeks. "But that's not at all our priority right now. Are you sure you're all right?"

Prompto met eyes with each of them one by one—all looking back at him with concern. Maybe they wouldn't care about his real identity, maybe they would . . . but he wasn't ready to find out just yet.

"Yeah," he muttered before looking up to Noct. "Tell me. Were you worried about me?"

"Of course I was!" Noct scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. But Noct couldn't know that his immediate response couldn't've been a bigger relief to hear. "What kind of question is that?"

"Heh. Of course. That's why you came. Like I believed you would."

"Prompto," Noct said softly, obviously at a loss for words, but that wasn't much of a surprise. Noct might've gotten better at it lately, but he still kinda sucked talking about this stuff. Prompto decided to let him off the hook for coming up with something to say and spoke instead.

"That's why I told myself I couldn't die. Not until I could see you and hear you tell me I'm not a fake. That I'm the real me."

"I'm sorry."

Okay, so not exactly what he wanted to hear, but an apology was cool, too. It was kinda his own damn fault for not explaining _why_ he needed to be told he wasn't a fake. Plus, thinking about it from Noct's point of view, he guessed an apology would be all he'd want to say for the past week or whatever it'd been since he'd pushed him off the train.

"Don't be. Everything's all right now."

Prompto fell back a little on his knees as Noct surged forward, throwing his arms around his shoulders and squeezing tightly. Yeah, it definitely hurt those bone-deep bruises he'd gotten from being thrown off the snowmobile, but damn, was it worth it.

As Prompto squeezed him in return, not even trying to hold back the burn in his eyes, Noct whispered, "I swear, I didn't mean it. It was Ardyn."

"I know, man. We're good," he chuckled, slapping him on the back as he pulled away. "Really."

"Come on," Laura said as she and Iggy pulled him to his feet. It was his legs' turn to feel the tingling fire racing down to his toes as his knees buckled a little at taking on his weight, but he locked them tight and pushed through the pain by forcing a smile through his teeth.

Of course, she wasn't fooled.

"There was a bunk room a few halls back. A decent meal and a good night's rest is what you need."

He couldn't help but shudder at the thought of sleeping in a place like this, but he hadn't had more than a few fitful dozings against an Ebony machine or on a cold cave floor since he'd last seen them. He wasn't gonna admit it, but he was about ready to pass out on them all right here, right now.

"Will we be safe there? How come those places are safe, anyway?" Noct asked quietly once he'd grabbed his gun, wallet, and camera off the shelf. It was kinda weird Ardyn had left his personal items there so he could have them, but then he guessed this whole thing was a setup of some kind. He just couldn't figure out what that guy's angle was.

They all sneaked past the rows of cells, eyeing the sleeping, dead, or weak daemons languishing inside.

Sweet Six, that could've been him.

No, don't think about that.

"I don't know, exactly," Laura whispered. "Some sort of magic related to the haven magic? The bulbs they use in the lights? Either way, I'll keep watch tonight. It's been far too long since you've all rested."

"You got that right," Noct sighed. "First thing tomorrow, we find this Wallbreaker thing and get the ability to summon back. Lucky I could use the Ring here . . . like he planned it that way or something."

As Laura led them out of the prison, through some kinda monitoring room, and into the littered halls, Prompto turned to Noct. "Hey, thanks, by the way . . . you know, for sending Aranea to come and find me."

"What?" Noct asked, furrowing his brow. He brought a hand up to tug at his bangs before looking away. "I, uh . . . didn't send her. I didn't know where you were. Here was pretty much our only option. Sorry."

"Oh."

Why had Aranea lied to him about that? How had she found him there? His thoughts flashed briefly to the image of Ardyn calling him forward to meet the maniac responsible for creating him. Could he have been fooled? So easily? But no . . . Aranea had helped him get his ass in gear, helped him kill that _thing_. He'd have to ask her what the hell the next time he saw her to clear it up.

The second those hissing metal doors closed behind him, Prompto dove for the nearest bunk, burying his head in the dusty-smelling, scratchy pillowcase and stretching his arms and legs as far out as he could. But a sudden flash of light and a whine made him sit up, and the hot, heavy aroma of something spicy tickled at his nose, almost making him swoon.

"Ohhhh, Six, is that peppery daggerquill rice?" Prompto asked, breathing in the scent. "Wait, you still got your powers?"

"Yes to both," she said softly, summoning four mismatched, flower-patterned bowls he'd never seen before.

"You okay, Gladio?" Noct asked.

"Yeah," Gladio said under his breath, but his fists were clenched tight on his knees as he leaned against the pole of his bunk.

Between Laura's whining magic and her apparently not eating, Gladio's clenched fists, them not having summoning powers, and Noct wearing the Ring, it sounded like a lot of shit had happened to them too while he'd been gone, but he wasn't gonna ask and bring the mood any lower than it already was.

His mouth watered as the aroma of peppers and meat continued to fill their little haven, but he kept his eyes locked on a little tear in his jeans that had opened up near his left knee until a bowl of the steamy rice he'd been daydreaming about for days now slid under his field of view.

"Here you are. We happened to have your favorite on hand," Iggy said quietly as he held the bowl out.

Prompto cupped the dish between his hands, letting the heat melt down into his joints as he rubbed his thumbs over the cheery yellow flower pattern and fought off the urge to just bury his face in his food like a dog.

"Thanks, Iggy," he said back just as quietly, reaching out to take the spoon he was offering.

The awkward silence as everyone sat on beds and chairs to dig in might've made him uncomfortable any other day, but for the first time in like a week, he was safe-ish among friends, he was free, and he was shoveling food in his face as politely as he could manage so he wouldn't piss Iggy off. He'd taken twelve bites, chewing at least four times before swallowing, when the conversation finally started up.

"So what're the plans?" Gladio sighed.

"Get cleaned up as best we can without access to the armiger, sleep, take care of the Wallbreaker, and take back the Crystal," Iggy answered, not looking up from his bowl. "Though I expect we'll meet Ardyn along the way."

"Was wonderin' when you were gonna quit with that 'Chancellor' shit."

"With his true nature revealed and the Emperor defeated, I suppose it was long-past due."

Noct raked his fork through the grains unenthusiastically. "That big thing you feel, Laura—that's coming up tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Yes, a fixed point. But I swear, I don't know what it is yet."

"What 'big thing'?" Prompto asked in dread.

Because the last time Laura had felt a 'big thing' coming up that she was even willing to acknowledge, their entire world fell to pieces, and even though they'd all managed to pull themselves back together, the world had only continued to disintegrate around them.

Noct let out a long, shuddering sigh into his bowl. Without looking up, he said, "I'm gonna die tomorrow, Prom."

"No, you're _not_ ," Iggy practically shouted over Laura's "I don't think so."

Prompto couldn't really put a finger on the exact second he'd realized that whatever epic quest they'd been sent on was gonna end up killing his best friend in the world, maybe even killing all of them. It'd been a thought lurking around the corner of their every interaction since Insomnia fell. And even though he tried to avert his eyes on the walk here, they couldn't help but catch that black metal on Noct's middle finger. He certainly hadn't wanted to ask about it when he really knew what it meant.

So even though the floor dropped from underneath his boots and that fucking burn in his eyes resurfaced as he tried to raise his head to keep the tears from falling, it wasn't as much of a blow as he'd expected it to be, hearing it for sure for the first time. _Tomorrow_ , though? Prompto knew he'd never be ready, even if they had a hundred years, but this was too soon. _Way_ too soon.

Gladio looked pissed as hell, gritting his teeth and glaring up at the ceiling like he was about ready to punch something. Noct was shaking his head like Laura and Iggy didn't know what they were talking about, and Iggy looked like he was gonna fling himself to Noct's chair and shake him to death, demanding he take it back.

Prompto looked to Laura because he was just confused now, and she was the girl to ask about future stuff.

"It's only a fixed point tomorrow that has to do with you, not your death," Laura said, glaring over at Noct, who was still shaking his head in denial. "You were older in the vision Ignis and I saw when it . . . happened."

"And we _will_ avert it," Iggy growled.

"Ignis," Laura sighed, closing her eyes in exasperation before looking back to Noct, "I swear we'll try, Noct, we will, but in seven thousand years of doing this, I have _never_ seen it happen successfully."

"And if we do it unsuccessfully?" Gladio asked.

"The world will end, but more than that," Laura said heavily. "We could destroy this entire universe."

Prompto counted out seven beats of painful silence before Noct blew out a breath. "Yeah, don't do that. Not for me. I mean . . . if it's safe, sure. I'd rather not die if I can help it, but if we all die anyway, what good would that do?"

"I didn't mean . . .," Iggy began, but Noct interrupted.

"I know what you guys think, but I know what I feel. It's like . . . time is chasing me down. Ever since that first tomb, it's been stalking me like a coeurl, haunting me. Something's telling me . . .," his voice broke as he looked down at his empty bowl, "that this is my last night with you guys."

No one knew what to say to that. This had always been bigger than all of them, and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to Noct, whose life had always been on borrowed time. It wasn't fair to Iggy or Gladio, who'd been raised from birth for a job they were destined to fail. It wasn't even fair to Laura, having to go through all this shit when it wasn't even her world.

And it wasn't fair to him. The one person in the world who'd noticed him, who'd accepted him from the very beginning—he was gonna lose that no matter how hard he tried to keep him.

"Someone once told me that time was a predator that stalked us all our lives," Laura said softly, breaking the silence. "But I rather believe that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment because they'll never come again."

"Make now _always_ the most precious time," Iggy agreed.

There was another minute of almost touchable silence before Laura stood and began collecting their bowls. "Okay, here's what's going to happen. I think I have enough shorts and t-shirts for you all to sleep in . . . except maybe you, Gladio. You guys can shower in that excuse for a water closet over there, I'll clean your clothes while you sleep tonight."

"S'all right. I can keep my tighty-whities so I won't offend anyone's delicate sensibilities," Gladio chuckled. "Thanks, Princess."

"Nothin' better than bein' clean for a new day!" Prompto said brightly, but he thought he might've overdone the false cheer a little as his words settled weirdly between them all.

Laura set the dishes aside before turning to him, holding out her hands and summoning what looked like a black pair of boxers and a red t-shirt. She was obviously trying to ignore the whine of her magic, so he did too—but he eyed Iggy nervously before looking back down at the fabric.

"Um . . . these aren't Iggy's, are they?"

"Exactly what are you implying?" Iggy asked indignantly.

"No! It's fine. It's just . . . you know, wearing another guy's shorts . . . kinda against the code."

"I'm . . . not even going to ask," she said with a little giggle, shaking the bundle in front of him. "I do have some of Ignis's clothes with me, but these are mine. A girl can slum it a little too, you know."

"Are you certain this is a good idea?" Ignis asked as Prompto took the bundle from her. "If we're caught unawares . . .."

"Then the worst that could happen is that you're slightly underdressed for battle," Laura interrupted. "Honestly, it's not as though we were truly ever safer from random people in a haven or anything, and those jeans and silk don't exactly do much to protect you, anyway."

"Oh, gods, I sooo didn't need to know that about the haven thing," Prompto exclaimed in horror. "I never even thought of that."

"And it won't be an issue because I am, and always have been, keeping watch. Now, go on."

The ten minutes he spent behind that little tile partition, the hot water beating down on the bruises and making the half-healed cuts on his face tingle, were definitely in the top ten most conflicting moments of his life—so relieved to be among friends and yet . . . it wasn't gonna last long, was it? He had to tell them before whatever happened tomorrow actually happened, but he couldn't just bring up that kinda shit on what Noct thought was his last night of his life.

Fuck, he was about to collapse right here in this shower cubicle. How could he make this a night to remember? Getting wasted and singing stupid songs at the dark would be a good idea if they weren't half-dead and in this boss-level dungeon.

All he could think of was plopping down next to Noct after he'd taken his turn showering and bumping him with his shoulder. "You wanna play a game? I'd have to see if I could borrow Iggy's or Gladio's phone, and we'd both have to play with the AI, which kinda sucks, but . . .."

"Thanks, but I'm kinda worn out."

"The Ring?"

Instead of answering, Noct took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. Prompto sat there, useless, fighting between passing out and finding something to distract him when Noct spoke.

"It's okay. Just being here with you guys is enough."

It seemed like none of them wanted to go to sleep once they'd all showered, and after Laura had dumped all their clothes into buckets to get soaking, they sat in a circle on beds and chairs again, trying not to look at each other. But no one knew what to do, what to say to break the pall hanging over them all.

Iggy clenched his jaw and sighed. "Make now always the most precious time," he murmured before gently clearing his throat. "I do realize the timing of this may seem somewhat inappropriate, given our current circumstances, but if I am to do this, there are no three people in this world I would rather have here right now."

Without giving anyone a chance to ask what was going on, he slipped off the bed and got down on one pajama-legged knee. Taking both of Laura's hands in his, he looked up into her questioning face.

"Rose, given that Ardyn already knows of us and cannot wish to do us any more harm than he already does, it has become a more pressing matter that I do this while we're all together."

He reached for his wallet on the little table next to the bunk and pulled something out before returning to her.

"If you wouldn't mind, I should very much like it if you wore my ring—and, one day, when you're more prepared, if I wore yours."

"Aren't you guys already married?" Noct muttered under his breath, but Gladio shushed him.

A slow, sparkling smile spread over Laura's face as she looked down at Iggy, making Prompto's chest throb a little. Gods, just _once_ , he would give anything in the world for someone to look at him like that. It was like Iggy was the center of her entire universe.

"It would be my greatest honor," she said, bringing a hand up to cup the side of his face, and Iggy let out a whoosh of a breath. Seriously, did he think she was gonna say no?

Prompto swore Iggy's hands were trembling a little as he slid the ring on her finger. It looked really old and a little worn—the simple mythril scrollwork carved on the bands beginning to smooth out with time, but the diamond in the center glittered in the low light as he spoke in a deep, quivering voice.

"With my king and liege bearing witness, with this humble ring, I, Ignis Scientia, Duke of Kettier, freely and unreservedly take thee, Laurelín Ni'annen as my wife."

Gladio grunted a chuckle. "What? No grand declarations of undying love?"

"Yeah, kinda disappointed, Specs," Noct said with a wistful, misty kinda smile. "I was expecting some poetry or something at least."

"I'm _still_ waitin' on the kiss, to be honest," Prompto added. "If you're not gonna go all hearts and flowers."

Iggy turned around to give them all a withering look. "What could I possibly have to say to her that she doesn't already know?" Turning back to Laura, he said, "I'm afraid I was terribly rude for springing this on you without allowing you the chance to have anything prepa—"

"Ignis Scientia, shut up," she interrupted, beaming down at him. "Do you know how much of those twelve years I spent thinking about your hands?"

Holding out two fingers, she summoned a ring—mythril with an onyx band through the center and swirls of tiny diamonds that made it shimmer like stars.

The rush of a whispered word was so quiet that Prompto almost hadn't heard it.

"Rose."

As she slid the ring on his finger, she said, "And I, Laurelín Ni'annen, freely and unreservedly take you, Ignis Scientia, Duke of Kettier, as my husband, with your king and liege bearing witness."

Prompto couldn't see too much from his angle as Iggy pulled his hand back to inspect the ring closely, but those green eyes were lit up with the kinda pride and joy Prompto had never seen in him. The sight broke his heart—seeing the guy he'd once thought was cold and scary kneeling in front of the woman he loved and asking her to be his right here in the middle of this hellhole. There was no black velvet or white silk, no swelling harmonies of violins, no expensive imported flowers or seafood like he would've expected a guy as stylish as Iggy to have for a wedding. The contrast of it did kinda seem weird but also right. It was nothing but the five of them against the dark . . . as it had been from the beginning.

And it was the most beautiful thing he'd seen so far on this trip. They'd turned this room of doom and gloom into joy. How had they done that?

Even more amazing, they'd chosen to wait until they'd gotten him back to do this.

"Is it all right?" Laura asked softly, her brows pinching together a little as Iggy continued to stare down at the ring.

"It's _beautiful_."

"I noticed you had a weakness for things that sparkle."

Iggy slowly reached up with his newly-ringed hand to brush his fingertips along her cheek, just under her eye, and the tenderness of it made Prompto wanna cry for some reason.

"Yes, I do."

"Gross. I hope you guys know you're sickening."

The magic suddenly broken, Iggy pulled back from Laura and rolled his eyes. "Yes, that was exactly the blessing from the King I was hoping to hear."

"Oh yeah," Noct said, twisting his lips into an awkward grimace. "Um . . . by the power vested in me, I, Noctis Lucis Caelum, King of Lucis, pronounce you man and wife with my blessing. I uhh . . . bestow upon Laurelín Ni'annen Scientia the title of Duchess of Kettier, along with the associated privileges and expectations of such." After a brief pause, he bit his lip and asked, "Did I do that right?"

"Near enough," Iggy said with a broad smile. "I do thank you, immensely, Majesty."

"All right, fuck this shit," Gladio said, rubbing at his eye. "It's the weirdest wedding I've ever been to, but you _gotta_ kiss. Just once, you guys."

Prompto had only seen Iggy and Laura kiss once—right after Pitioss, but it was still weird to see them smile at each other with so much joy in this shitty place, slide their hands up to caress each other's faces, and press their lips together like they were each drawing life and strength from the connection. If he could never have that for himself, he wanted to remember it forever.

"Oh, shit," he whispered, scrambling for his camera on the table and managing to get in a few shots before they pulled apart.

Laura gave Iggy one last kiss on the forehead before he got up off the floor to sit down on the bed again. "All right, you three," she said with a chuckle. "Think that's about all the mush you boys can handle for one night. It's bed time."

But Prompto kept snapping pictures at the two of them sitting on the bed next to each other—with Iggy's smile so wide his eyes were crinkling at the corners and Laura's face glowing with life.

It was almost enough to keep him from thinking about having to sleep in a place like this with _those_ memories still stirring at the surface of his thoughts.

"Gotta admit, pretty wiped, but of all the shitty places we've slept, this one's the shittiest," Gladio grumbled as he crawled into his bunk.

Noct shot Prompto a matching look of dread over Laura covering Iggy with a sheet, but Laura caught the exchange, looking back and forth between the two of them.

"I could put you all to sleep telepathically, if it would help—keep watch over your dreams. You're going to need to be at your best to prepare for whatever's coming tomorrow."

"So you'd be like . . . watching our dreams?" Prompto asked nervously. He didn't know _what_ kinda effed up stuff his mind would probably make of his experience over the past week now that he had a chance to really sleep, but he definitely wasn't ready to share it with anyone.

Laura shook her head. "No. Your dreams are a bit too personal for me to just intrude on like that. More like monitoring your brainwave patterns and making adjustments, keeping you in a deeper sleep."

"I'll take that," Noct said immediately, and her eyes darted over to him lying in his bunk, staring at the mattress above. Her expression softened to pity and something else—something like affection—before she nodded.

"Yeah, me too," Prompto said, picking at the corner of the sheet. "Thanks, Laura."

"Think I'll be okay without the dream thing," Prompto heard Gladio mutter from his bunk, "but I could probably stand to be put under."

Prompto bit his lip as Laura went from bed to bed, placing a hand to each temple briefly as Iggy, Gladio, and Noct immediately closed their eyes and went limp. Instead of leaning over him when his turn came, she settled on the bed next to his head, and he scooched over to make room for her to pull her knees up.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked gently.

Prompto sighed, choosing to stare at the metal grating and grey fabric of the bunk above instead of looking into her eyes.

"How much can you tell, looking at me?"

It was always kinda unclear on how much she could sense by just looking at a person. He'd always just trusted her not to look into his head, and he'd never actually felt anything like she said he would if she ever did try. He went rigid for a second, waiting for whatever feeling to crawl over his brain now that he'd given her permission as he scrunched his eyes tight, but he didn't notice any change.

"I can tell you've been through a lot. You're shaken," she said, placing a hand on his forehead. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

Prompto chuckled up at her, meeting those large, pitying eyes. He hadn't wanted to make her feel sad. "Hey, gotta watch over Noct first, right? Can't keep us all in line." But once he looked away again, he asked in a quieter voice, "No, but I mean . . . what do you see when you look at my mind? Like, what kind of person am I?"

"Sweetheart," she breathed in the kind of voice that reminded him of what a mom should sound like, and he had to hold back those fucking tears welling in his eyes at her tone, "you _know_ what kind of person you are. I can see it shining in your mind as plainly as I see it shining through your eyes. You _are_ love, Prompto."

But was it real if he was doing it to be loved back? Was it real if he wasn't even real?

"What if you were wrong about me though? What if I told you it was all fake?"

He looked up at her in time to see her close her eyes and shake her head. "I wouldn't believe you. Even the most cunning person couldn't lie to me like that for as long as I've been around you. Your heart is embedded in your every action, your every sacrifice."

"Yeah, I guess I'm awesome like that," he chuckled.

He imagined blurting it out to her right here, right now . . . _I was supposed to be an MT_. What would her reaction be? He bet that loving expression would morph to horror and disgust faster than he could say 'lol jk.' He turned away from the idea of it, away from the sight of her staring down at him with that love he didn't deserve—even if he had decided he wanted it.

"You should tell us whatever it is that's bothering you, you know. When you're ready. It'll make you feel better to get it out and know that it changes nothing."

Her hand had slid to the hair on the side of his head when he'd turned away, but instead of pulling back, she curled her fingers into his scalp, stroking and scratching lightly in a way that sent a shiver over his skin. No one had ever done this to him, touched him like this, and he sighed into the contact.

"You should put me under and get back to Iggy," he said reluctantly after a minute. "Don't you have somewhere to take him tonight?"

But she didn't remove her hand as she replied, "I'm with him now . . . sort of. We're never really apart, you know. He wants me here with you, too."

Prompto furtively glanced over to where Iggy lay in the bunk across, his arms wrapped around a spare pillow and his expression peaceful.

"Where'd you take him?"

"He's home, for now, working on something he wants to give me. We might go somewhere later if he's feeling up to it."

It was just so weird to imagine—traveling from this apocalyptic nightmare to the comfort and safety of home in a matter of seconds—but then he guessed they'd all gotten used to grabbing hold of whatever happiness zoomed past on this terrifying journey and clinging to it for as long as they could. The nights by the campfire, chatting over a bowl of Iggy's rice or a cup of Laura's tea, sparring in the mornings, singing obnoxious songs on the radio just to make Iggy frown, even some of the hunts they went on—they were all those little things that made stuff like the last week worth it, worth everything.

Tomorrow. He'd tell them tomorrow.

"Think I'm ready now," he said, closing his eyes as her fingers slid from his hair to his temple.

"Sleep well, dearest. I'll be keeping watch."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I just want to say that Prompto's feelings of being an MT, of being a thing, are his opinions in this chapter and not mine. I am definitely aware that he is fully human.

Time is a predator quote from Star Trek.

So…that prologue, eh? I had always intended to break canon with Ardyn/Solheim/the gods/the Crystal/the scourge, and this merely reaffirms it. However, I really want to see where this is going before I go any farther in the story, because short of a Matrix scenario where this is all happening in the INGEMS or an MIB II scenario where everyone's mind gets wiped, things are going to have to be explained for pulling this off.

So this will be the last chapter until Episode Ardyn comes out, which is sort of perfect timing, as I'll be able to pound out a decent rough draft of WoR in that time.


	78. Chapter 78

Laura opened her eyes to the crisp, chill air; the scent of apples on her tongue; that bright, golden light of autumn at noon; and his warm, heavy arms wrapped around her as he breathed at her back.

"Did you finish what you needed to?" she asked, adjusting herself so she was tucked between his side and the back of the plush sofa. Nuzzling aside the unbuttoned collar of his white linen shirt, she nestled her nose in the hollow just above his warm collarbone.

She could hear the frown in his voice as he said, "Yes. I do hope I didn't leave you with _too_ many tasks out there. What sort of a husband am I?"

"The kind who needs to recuperate after using elemental power today. Dishes and laundry are done. I even found some stores of ammunition for Prompto's gun in the cabinet. How's your head?"

"Mmmm," he murmured into her hair, pressing soft lips to her temple, "you know, it's much better now."

"I wish you didn't have to use the Crystal's power when I can't bear the brunt of the cost. I know you limited it, but still . . . it kills you both a little each time you do that through him."

"Needs must, I'm afraid," he sighed. "I shall limit my usage to that amount which keeps us alive—no more, but certainly no less."

"I know."

The wind blew through the trees, whipping eddies of red and gold across the wide-open balcony and bringing in a fresh wave of cool air and that incomparable scent of fall. Despite the beauty and peace of the moment, every mind in her vicinity was dark: Gladio's fear and frustration, Prompto's horror and despair, Noct's dread and resignation, Ignis's empathy and melancholy—and farther away, _someone's_ wild half-daemonized anguish. Even Eilendil, picking at his silver claws in his space above them, was imagining with a wistful longing flying out with his people to the Thalassian Islands to collect the down left by migratory geese to use in their winter nests as he normally would be doing this time of year.

"I'd never seen His Majesty channel the power of the Ring like that," Ignis said heavily. "The way his eyes glowed as a covenant with a god, the . . . cracks of power breaking him apart. He really isn't as human as I thought."

His mind colored with black grief as the image of an older Noct breaking apart at those very seams and falling to ashes and phosphorescent petals flashed across their bond.

"But not divine enough, it would seem," he finished forlornly.

Laura brought a hand up to settle on his cheek, rubbing a thumb across the bone as he closed his eyes. "If Shiva is to be believed, not even the immortal on this planet will survive in their current forms."

"Yes, and little comfort that news brought. If even the immortal won't survive, how on Eos can we expect to avert Noct's fate?"

"I don't know yet, love, but you need to be prepared for the very real possibility that we may fail."

"I know, I know," he sighed. "But I have faith. And that isn't all that's been weighing heavy on my thoughts."

"Gentiana."

"I hadn't noticed before because she never made direct eye contact with anyone, but earlier today, it was made rather apparent."

"I don't know, Ignis. I wish I knew what to tell you."

"She must be harboring _some_ sort of ill will, despite her insistence otherwise." He clenched his teeth and shook his head in frustration. "What other explanation could there possibly be for her to make eye contact with the three of you but refuse to meet mine, even when I spoke directly to her?"

He wasn't looking for an answer from her as he glared up at the ceiling, so she stayed silent, breathing in his sweet herbal scent and grazing her lips soothingly across the pebbled skin of his neck.

"I know," he said after a few moments. "I'm casting a pall on what is to be an evening of celebration. Fixed point aside, we've all reunited, and you agreed to marry me in front of witnesses."

"If you'll recall, I had agreed to it from the very beginning."

Ignis tightened the arm around her waist as he idly edged a finger over her tapered ear point. "I don't think you realize just how much that means. Thank you. And . . . now that I know how circumstances have turned out, thank you for staying behind when Prompto fell. I'm aware the choice to respect my request can't have been an easy one."

"You were right. I wasn't. It was as simple as that." Even so, she couldn't shake the notion from her mind that she'd failed both Prompto _and_ Noct spectacularly these past few days.

Bubbling teal of incredulity and the slightest sienna of smugness colored his thoughts at her words, as it wasn't often he could best her in opinion and logic—in his mind, anyway.

"Don't let it go to your head," she chuckled in breathy puffs against his skin, and he tilted his head to rest against hers as he sighed. "Did you have a mood word for tonight? Or I could start a fire, and we could spend all evening on the couch snogging like teenagers."

"I'm not certain even a chaste snog wouldn't be too much to keep my lips sealed back in the real world," he said, his lips quirking up against her forehead. "But my gift for you is completed, with Eilendil's assistance, and I suppose I should like to do something befitting to celebrate our nuptials after that . . . rather untraditional ceremony."

Laura grinned against his neck, dragging her hand down to where she could watch the diamond shimmer on her finger as she tickled at Ignis's honey-colored chest hair. He caught her bubbling thread of joy and echoed it back, surprised that she would find something as mundane as a strip of metal and rock around her finger as deeply meaningful as she did when his deep crimson had been shining in her head for months now. Of course, he didn't realize that a portion of that joy stemmed from the fact that there now existed photographic evidence of Ignis Scientia getting married in his pajamas—with the Shield of Lucis in his underwear and the King and Prompto wearing hers.

She'd let him come to that realization in his own time.

"Perhaps . . .," he trailed off, tugging her up the length of his body a little until she was level with his cheek. With the smallest of deep, vibrating hums at the back of his throat, he turned on her, pressing cool, soft lips against hers and pushing her deeper into the back of the couch. _Perhaps a_ _ **touch**_ _of snogging before I present my bride with her gift._

Laura groaned a little into his mouth as he moved to hover over her, propping himself up on one hand and running another over her face tenderly. Control. She had to maintain control of herself, especially as her physical body was currently sitting in a chair next to Prompto, getting up every now and then to make adjustments to his and Noct's turbulent brainwave patterns each time they indicated they were about to slip into a nightmare.

But he was so alive and soft and gentle and _him_ over her, between her lips—her favorite skin-tight silk waistcoat slipping under her hands as she ran them over his lithe body. His warm, wet tongue was flicking out delicately to taste her, teasing her with the intense coffee flavor he somehow always had in this world of theirs. He did it again, and she retaliated—sucking his tongue into her mouth, entwining her flavor and his.

Much to her chagrin, Ignis pulled back when she felt him stirring against her thigh. "We should get started, if the evening is to be cut short by your guest as you suspect," he said, standing and straightening his waistcoat, collar, and sleeves before smoothing the fabric down the length of his torso.

She lay there transfixed, watching him run his hands over the sleek lines of his body and quietly nursing that burn for him. "Yes, I have somewhere I'd like to take you, if there's time," she managed to say after several moments.

He frowned down at her as she sat up. "Are you certain it's prudent for you to meet him alone with the rest of us vulnerable like this?"

"It's the best way to get the truth out of him. He's starting to see me as some sort of equal, I think, and he can drop the air of performance. Plus, he gave them back to us. It's not like he would have a reason to take anyone now."

"I must say, that the others allowed you to put them under with him coming was nothing short of astounding."

"Bloody hell," she spat, closing her eyes as her heart dropped to her feet. "We forgot to tell Prompto in all the mess. Oh my god, how could I have done that?"

Ignis leaned over the edge of the mahogany Kawai baby grand, removing the violin case from the bookshelf and laying it across the piano bench. "I wouldn't have encouraged you to deceive him beforehand, but now that it's done, it may be for the best for him to not know until after it's happened."

She sighed, hating that she'd been unintentionally dishonest but knowing he was likely right.

"We'll bring him up to speed, and he's getting a night's rest free of worry," he said consolingly, unsnapping the case and plucking out the bow. "In the meantime, you need to relax yourself, and Eilendil has assisted me in preparing this for you."

A whoosh of air on the balcony followed by the clatter of claws on the polished wood made her turn her head to see a golden retriever-sized Eilendil slither-waddle inside. Without a word, he made his way to the fireplace, breathed into the hearth, and curled on the hearthstone next to the piano with a deep sigh.

 _Of course you would choose a husband so inept as to need assistance in preparing a wedding gift_ , Eilendil grumbled.

"Just be grateful I've made you appear prepared with a gift rather than being caught unawares."

 _You have been married for months by the customs of our planet. I was hardly caught unawares,_ he said with a smoky huff.

"My boys," Laura said with a fond smile, resting her chin against her palm as she leaned over the arm of the couch. "I love to see you two getting along so well."

"Eilendil was kind enough to agree to play back a sort of recording of my piano playing, as I have my doubts I can play it back myself perfectly while distracted with the violin."

"Tell me about this piece. You've been careful not to play too much of it in my presence."

Ignis lowered the bow from his violin and stared at a spot on the floor near the couch. A delicate flush of pink spread over his cheeks as he tilted his head. "It is . . . me," he said with a tiny shrug, "and everything I ever wanted, selfish though it sounds." A frown tugged the corners of his mouth down as he said, "Come to think of it, this _is_ rather self-centered for a wedding gift . . .."

"Not in my mind. What more could I ask for? Please," she gestured toward his violin, "play me yourself, love."

He nodded once, still frowning, before he took his stance and let his eyes unfocus.

Despite only having known him for four months, Laura felt that she knew his heart and mind better than most. Everything he ever wanted? That was to see Noct free of all burdens, to see everyone he ever cared for safe and happy—and, if there was a sliver of spare goodwill to go around, he might like to see a little happiness for himself, if it wasn't too much trouble.

His long lashes fluttered against his cheeks as the muscles in his forearms twitched with the draw of the bow across the strings. He swayed with the melody of the piano and deep, soulful caramel of the violin—as humbly unassuming as the song as he was pulling from the instruments. It wasn't a joyous cacophony or a grand declaration; the sound of his soul was a gentle whisper, a humble plea, quietly offered up to the sky in a wistful, sweet tinkling of piano chords and slow, delicate glide of strings.

The song was rather short—a polite statement of what he wanted from this life and no more, no embellishments or fanciful frills, no repetition, unassuming in its simplicity.

"Ignis," she whispered when he'd finished and gave another bashful, half-hearted shrug.

What wouldn't she give to be able to deliver that desire? To answer that selfless request and fulfill every wish in his kind and gentle heart?

"Anyway, that's what I've been working on," he said softly, turning his back to her to place the violin back in its case. "Would that I could offer you more. You have my thanks, Eilendil, for the assistance."

Eilendil bowed his head, closing his eyes. _It was the most expedient way to get some peace and quiet around here,_ he grumbled.

She was there behind him when he turned around, flinging her arms around his neck and burying her face at the base of his throat, breathing deep underneath his collar and murmuring across his skin.

"That was lovely. You're so very lovely," she said between gentle kisses, letting her arms drift down to wrap tightly around his waist as his enveloped her.

"I appreciate you taking the time to listen to that."

"The honor is mine. You have no idea. Are you feeling up to a trip somewhere? I'd like to take you to the planet Pensacola for dinner, if that's all right?"

"I suppose it's fortunate the calories won't count, as we've only just eaten" he said with an amused chuckle, closing his eyes. "Very well, show me Pensacola."

Laura sent a mental thanks to Eilendil before changing the scene to a long, narrow, cramped room—with three rows of stainless-steel countertops covered in various ingredients, industrial sinks filling enormous pots of water, grills giving off shimmering mirages of heat, and stations of dishes and utensils in various stages of preparation. The air was almost thick enough to touch with the humidity and scent of cooking food, and the too-small space seemed to be alive with bustling chefs as they zoomed back and forth in controlled panic to complete their assigned tasks for the evening.

" _This_ is the planet Pensacola?" Ignis asked, leaning over the stove to eye a young Gliboidian stirring a saucepan of beurre blanc furiously.

"The planet Pensacola, 68th century, and we're in the kitchen of _LeShef_ , named 'Best Restaurant in the Universe' a hundred years in a row now. I thought, perhaps, a quick chat before we have a meal?"

"With the head chef?" Ignis asked hopefully, his viridian eyes lighting up and his lips parting to reveal just a hint of a toothy smile.

"An approximation. She never traveled on the TARDIS, so her personality will be based more on my perception of her than actual fact."

Ignis looked up suddenly at the sound of a motorized whine rising over the din of the fifteen people shouting and moving back and forth in the tiny room, and he raised his chin higher in an attempt to see over the crowd.

"Will you MOVE?" a hoarse female voice bellowed over the whine.

The kitchen went nearly silent as the group parted to let the cephalopodean woman pass, her motorized tank coming to an abrupt halt in front of Ignis and nearly splashing him with a wave of seawater as the momentum caught up with her.

"So, I see you've finally decided to pay us a visit," Sally barked at Laura. The stern glare of her orange, bulbous eyes didn't change, but the skin of her mantle flushed in what was, for her species, a broad smile. Laura laughed as two damp tentacles reached for her shoulders and tugged her closer to the tank of water . . . the only sort of hug a sea creature could share on land.

"I've been saving you for a special occasion!"

She pulled back to watch Ignis, who, having grown used to meeting beings of all shapes and sizes, bowed respectfully. "Ignis Scientia, at your service."

"Ohh, Laurelín, he's _perfect_ ," she cooed through the speaker attached to the front of the tank. "Sally Gordon's the name. A cephalopodean— _not_ an octopus, do you hear me?"

"Of course," he said with a nod.

"So," she said sharply, turning to the kitchen station they were standing next to, "Seafood is a given, elsewise you wouldn't have brought him here. You'll have my very freshest, of course. Except for the sushi, and you'd know all about that. I'll be preparing a special vegetarian menu for you and your dreadful tastes, of course."

As she spoke, Sally pushed all eight of her tentacles through the force-field holes in her tank—grabbing a gorboar root to dice, reaching for a spoon to stir a boiling pot of soup on the stove, pulling out an enormous nephropida to begin prepping it for Ignis's meal, and snapping tips off haricots verts.

"Do you mean to say that fresh fish is not best for sushi?" Ignis asked politely, his eyes darting back and forth in an attempt to intensely analyze Sally's every move.

"Seas, no, child! Fresh fish has no flavor. It must be flash frozen and allowed to sit and age at least seven of your days to develop the flavor."

"I had no idea," he said, blinking down at her. "When I learned to craft sushi to assist Noct with his part-time job, the restaurant there always brought the fish in daily from the Allural Deep to be prepared that evening."

"Then they're ignorant," Sally snapped. "You'll see. I'll send out a special course before your meal. And the signature dish for dessert, of course. Now, shoo! I'll send Rejibit out shortly."

"Thanks, Sally," Laura said, reaching for Ignis's hand and leading him toward the back door. She stopped in front of the non-descript, white metal door and turned to look up into his curious face. "Shoes off."

He merely raised an eyebrow at her before complying, blinking away his black boots with the sort of defiant confidence he could only display here in this world of dreams as he stood barefoot in the kitchen of the top restaurant in the entire universe.

"Am I otherwise appropriately dressed for the occasion?" he asked, glancing down at his dark jeans, black waistcoat, and linen dress-shirt.

"Yes, you look stunning, as always," she said, but she frowned down at her yoga pants and stretchy sweater. "Though I could use some work."

She blinked, changing her attire to a long cream-colored dress with her favorite sort of diaphanous skirt and a neckline that fell off her shoulders. Ignis's eyes dropped to the flash of color by her bare feet as the skirt swirled to rest—embroidered purple flowers lining the hem and rising up in a gradient of crimson to tangerine to bright gold. She'd always loved that she'd finally found someone that appreciated her flair for the dramatic.

"Beautiful," he murmured, sweeping back a wave of the dark hair that hung to her elbows to cup the side of her face. But anything she could recreate here in this world was nothing compared to that light in his eyes that she'd never grow tired of seeing.

"Come on. 'Beautiful' is out here," she said with a grin, pushing the metal bar that would open the door.

Ignis inhaled a sharp, deep breath through his nose at the sight, struck silent with awe as he took in the view of the planet whose color saturation levels seemed to be turned up to maximum. Leggy palms and squatty, long-fingered mangroves swayed bright green in the warm breeze, casting long shadows over the blinding white sand. Where the vividly turquoise water oozed gently up the shoreline, it stained the beach a pale lavender that faded to white as it dried—until another wave washed over it again to repeat the process.

But the sky was what made Pensacola truly stand out for tourists among the thousands of beach planets in that galaxy alone. The atmosphere was perfectly clear, allowing an unobstructed view of slowly swirling galaxies above their heads—bright with pink, gold, lavender, indigo and white vortices of stars. The sky itself was a ridiculously vibrant shade of blue-black, streaked with whorls of lighter sapphire and clouds of magenta between brightly pulsing stars. All they needed was a bright pink and blue dolphin to leap from the peacock-colored waves to complete the Lisa Frank scene on all her folders as a girl in primary school.

"My word," he breathed as she shut the door to the kitchen behind her, resealing the holo-imagery so that the building would blend back in with the scenery. She tugged on his limp hand, smiling to herself when he refused to tear his attention from the landscape as she led his shuffling feet to their table and sat him down facing the water.

His mind stayed still with awe for nearly a minute as his eyes roamed silently over the vista—taking in every nuance, every scent of the fresh breeze, every whisper of the gentle waves against the shore as they echoed off the murmuring tree line, the taste of the salty air, the warmth of the radiant blue sun, even the velvet grains of sand between his toes. He was experiencing this world as she'd always intended—completely with his every sense.

"So, what is it about the cuisine here that makes it worthy of such a prestigious award for so long?" he finally asked in a hushed tone, his face still filled with wonder.

"You'll see here in a moment when Rejibit comes out. All the food is glorious, of course, but the final course is what we're here for, what she wins for."

"Chef Gordon's signature dessert? Why is it so special?"

"It's telepathic. Sally invented telepathic food."

Ignis blinked, his eyes finding hers for the first time since she'd brought them outside. "A dish that reads the diner's mind? How does it work?"

She nodded, leaning back as Rejibit placed a bowl of stir-fried vuros in front of her and a full plate of sushi in front of Ignis.

"Thank you, Rejibit. And . . . sort of. It sends out telepathic waves to your parietal and temporal lobes to determine which flavors you prefer based on your memories, even the ones you don't think you remember. The food is full of tiny particles that take the correct form and release those chemicals into your mouth, mimicking the flavor. With some luck, I may be able to recreate the experience for you and not just how it was for me."

"And how is it that I can be experiencing this sushi if you yourself have never had it?" he asked politely, tilting his head to closely inspect the perfect construction of the nigiri, maki, and sashimi artfully arranged across a long wooden board.

"I visited this place before I became a vegetarian."

"I see," he said, placing his napkin in his lap and delicately picking up his chopsticks. He picked up a Gillfin maki, dipped it lightly in Sally's signature dipping sauce, and brought the roll to his lips.

"Mmm," he hummed sensuously. "She was right, of course. The flavor is much more intense. And her knife skills . . . the meat is so tender; the rice is perfect."

Their meal continued in a similar manner, with Ignis's smile growing more and more relaxed from the placebo of glass after glass of wine and course after course of his favorite food—shellfish. The sweet, tender flesh of nephropida tails dipped in clarified butter; sea scallops pulled fresh from the cape and served on a bed of grilled asparagus; creamed crab and spinach dumplings—Laura hung onto his every praise, his every assessment, his every guess as to the meals' ingredients and preparation. He vowed when they got back to Lucis, he would learn each and every one of these recipes to share with Noct.

As much as she hated to represent the reminder of their bleak setting back in reality, she just couldn't bring herself to consume even imaginary meals with that Crystal fire burning away at her insides. She did her best to pick at what was set in front of her, but the way his eyes would slide over to her and narrow slightly was enough to let her know that she wasn't fooling anyone. Happiness came so infrequently, however, stolen in those moments in between, so they did their best to forget for just a few hours the dark day that loomed over them and basked in the miracle they'd found with each other in this quiet, wondrous evening.

When the famed silver cloche was presented to their table, Laura held out a hand to stop him from lifting it. "Let your mind go completely blank and press your thumb up against that raised glass square there."

He grinned at her, anticipation and excitement bubbling bright blue in his thoughts, before turning back, taking a deep breath, allowing his mind to go still, and pressing his thumb to the plate. Searching deep in his psyche, she found the flavors and pulled them together. She should have known—odd that they should have to be pulled from so far in the past, though. Laura wondered if he even remembered this particular recipe.

The tenderest smile crossed his face as he lifted the cloche to see what his heart desired most to complete their meal.

Fluffy chiffon cake with a large quenelle of cream cheese ice cream and a sprig of fresh mint.

Looking like a little boy on Christmas, or Hoodt, morning as his lips spread wider, he carefully spooned off a little of the quenelle and a small bite of the cake before holding it out to her. "It's custom on Eos for the bride and groom to feed each other at their nuptials as a symbol of their care," he explained.

Laura leaned forward and opened her mouth as he gently inserted the spoon—silky smooth, vanilla, and lightly sweetened, just as his recipe was, but there was something more—something floral and spicy on the exhale that she recognized from her tea in Altissia.

"In sickness and in health, I vow to take care of you, always," he said huskily before leaning forward to brush his lips against her cheek.

Taking the spoon from his hand, she reciprocated, combining the two elements on the plate and placing it gently on his lower lip.

"As I vow to take care of you, Ignis, to cherish you forever."

He chewed thoughtfully, no doubt immediately detecting the difference and furrowing his brow in concentration as he swallowed.

"Do you know where this recipe comes from?" she asked.

"No," he said once he'd swallowed, breathing out the flavors on his palate. "Though it stirs a certain something—a sense of nostalgia I cannot place. I'm detecting cinnamon, but something else." He was silent in thought for a few moments before he finally turned to her for the answer.

"Mama Edea's Cinnamon-Churned Honey," she said. "I even have a few bottles from when we were in Altissia."

"Really. Would you mind terribly if I . . .?"

"Don't be silly. Of course you can use as much as you like."

"I'd like to experiment some . . . see if I can recreate this."

They finished their dessert, taking turns feeding themselves and each other, before walking along the beach. Doing her best to take his mind off tomorrow, she told him of the planet's renowned reputation for the best salt in the galaxy—the reason why the seafood here was so delicious—and pointed out the sea turtle nests as their toes sank into the pillowy damp sand and the waves licked at their ankles.

"Perhaps we could conduct an experiment, comparing Galdin sea salt with that of Pensacolan salt. I do wonder how much the differences in mineral composition would affect the flavor of many of the dishes in my repertoire."

"Drastically, if my experience is anything to go by. Perhaps we could get a few people together to conduct a blind taste test."

"Now, that _would_ be something. I'd be interested to see if we Eosians had an innate preference for the salt of our home world."

She'd had few disruptions in the real world to pull her partially out of her fantasy with Ignis this evening—a possible growl of a daemon outside their door once, but mostly Noct's and Prompto's shifting and turbulent dreams. But it seemed even Ignis caught in his subconscious awareness the oily pool of scourge as it approached their door, and he shot her a dark look before she rushed them back to Therinal, leaving him with Eilendil before settling onto the couch and keeping enough of their connection open that he would know precisely what was going on.

 _Don't be afraid to awaken us the moment anything even appears as though it will go wrong,_ he advised as she opened her eyes and moved to stand in front of the beds. The comforting weight of the emerald on her hip was enough insurance that she could do whatever was necessary against Ardyn should it come to blows, even despite that increased burn and drain she'd been experiencing ever since they'd arrived.

Vapors of Starscourge leaked under the door, coalescing and growing into the near giant of a man that had been following them since Galdin. She stood as relaxed and casual as she could in the middle of the room, watching his eyes and hands carefully for any sudden movements as he solidified.

"Good evening," she said with a gracious nod.

"Hello, my dear," he said with a tender smirk, leaning against the door. "No tea for me this evening? I imagine you were expecting me to come."

"Of course, though your accommodations leave something to be desired for a decent tea setting. I _was_ curious if whatever is protecting this place would allow you in. I assume that was why you were so squirrely about insisting on a camper when you stayed with us that night. Can you even step foot on a haven?"

"Why, of course I can! Though it does tend to tamper with things a bit," he admitted, leaning his head back into the corner and crossing his legs. "I didn't get the chance to tell you earlier—I heard tales of your work with the Hydraean in Tenebrae. Impressive, if they're to be believed."

"Oh, they're to be believed, all right. Ignis and I can be rather aggressive when threatened."

His smile grew smug. "Ah, but the Advisor's no longer yours, is he? I'm surprised to see you protecting the Gunslinger this evening, but then, the gods always were fickle. Perhaps there's some hope for me, after all."

Laura was far too old to be unnerved by the way his words were accompanied by running his tawny eyes up her body suggestively, lingering on her bare legs and the swell of her breasts beneath her t-shirt. Sexuality was as much a weapon for him as it often was for her—and just as meaningless in this context.

"I may have given you some of my names the other day, but don't think for a second that it means what you think it means."

"Yes, and it seems you've added one more name to that list. I suppose congratulations are in order," he simpered as his gaze froze on the ring finger of her left hand. His eyes shot to where Ignis lay, his arms still wrapped around the spare pillow and the diamonds of his own ring glittering in the low light. "I'm hurt I didn't receive an invitation."

"I would think you'd be up on the proper etiquette for these things. You congratulate the groom; you offer the bride best wishes. Besides, we didn't have your address. Figured you'd show up anyway, though. Put you down for the beef; didn't figure you for a fish man."

"I can be as flexible as the next man," he said, his eyes still lingering on Ignis. "You might be surprised."

"I rarely am, you know. Although with you . . .." She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms and leaning into her hip. "I keep trying to figure out why you're really here, why you keep showing up to have a chat and then swishily sauntering off for no apparent reason. It couldn't really just be a simple matter of loneliness, could it?"

"I?" he asked, placing a hand against his heart. "I'm merely here to check on our dear little Prince and his retinue after the ordeal they've been through."

"Bullshit. You've had them at your mercy all day, so you know exactly what state they're in. I see you've taken my advice about torturing innocents to heart. That was cruel what you did to him. To both of them."

The muscle in his jaw twitched as he frowned over at Noct, and Laura tilted her head, trying to feel around the roiling Starscourge to glean any bit of information she could from the color of his mind. His twisted expression cleared to pleasant joviality the moment she'd caught it, but the underlying emotion still colored his next words as he spoke in a lilting, smooth tone.

"I believed the boy blessed by the Astrals and spoiled by his father could stand to get a taste of what it is to give all of himself and receive only scorn in return. He'll need to be well-familiar with the feeling if he is to take his place among royalty."

"By the light of all the stars, listen to you," she breathed. "This entire thing with Noct . . . taking out those who love him one by one, putting him through all this. That's why you killed Luna. That's why you tried to get Ignis to kill himself. You were _jealous_ of their faith, of their loyalty?"

When he merely narrowed his eyes at her in response, she couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "My _god_ what a petty child you are, even after all these years. No wonder your gods don't want the divine and mortal mixing. The world is literally ending, and all you can do is help it along because _you_ had a bad life."

"You have no idea what I've been through. The retribution I am owed in repayment," he snarled, his expression turning dark and real as he straightened to glare down at her. "They played me for a fool, misled me into thinking I would be rewarded for my goodwill. They'll trick him in the end, as well, my dear. You'll see. They'll leave him alone with nothing and no one more than what he has become."

Paying careful attention to his phrasing, she noticed that perhaps he was beginning to realize that she wasn't Eos, after all, deep down. It gave her hope that maybe he'd start _listening_ to her for once, helping to make this entire process easier on all of them. But underneath her own façade, she shuddered at seeing just how far this healer had fallen—further than she ever had. Was there even hope to touch the man he once was and lure him out?

"I'm really glad the man I chose to make immortal in the name of Time had a better heart than you. For all his suffering, it only made him kinder," she said sadly, thinking of Jack when the Bad Wolf had brought him back to life. But Jack hadn't had the influence of the scourge; he'd made friends, saved the world, suffered alongside those he loved, stood watch as he lost them all to the same Time that kept him alive for billions of years.

"And you're implying that it _wasn't_ you who did the same to me?"

"I'm outright stating it. Ardyn," she sighed as she took a step closer, and he closed his eyes, cutting off his expression from her view. "Please, whatever you have planned for tomorrow, that poor madman you have running around out there, don't do it. Let it go; let him go, and we can help you."

The fixed point didn't budge, whatever it was, so she knew he wouldn't back off. But at least she'd tried, always.

When his lids raised again to reveal that gold, glittering with menace, Laura wasn't fooled by the lazily cheerful resting expression of the mocking politician. She knew that tactic, oh so well—had learned the art of the perfectly-crafted persona at nineteen from a nine-hundred-year-old Time Lord and had used it herself frequently in the intervening millennia. This conversation was over.

"Well, it was a lovely chat, but I really must be going, my dear. I'll be seeing you tomorrow, I'm certain. Be sure to enjoy the rest of your evening." A fake smile and a tip of that gods-awful hat later, and he was melting into vapor and seeping back under the door.

With a sigh and a wave over her shoulder, she checked on Noct's mindscape one last time before settling down next to Prompto, running her fingers through his hair for a second before leaning over to settle her head near his shoulder.

And she opened her eyes to find herself once again tucked into Ignis's side, Eilendil's fire crackling merrily in the hearth, and that soft golden light coloring everything magical. Had she not been doing this for hundreds of years, she might have found the contrast jarring.

"You weren't able to get as much from him as I'd hoped."

"Baby steps. He's hardly going to sit down and tell me his life story, even with you lot asleep. We managed to learn some minor things."

"But if something is to happen tomorrow, we're running out of time."

 _Perhaps the interaction alone will mitigate the cruelty of his plans for you all tomorrow,_ Eilendil said from his place on the hearthstone without opening his eyes.

"I don't know. I'm only beginning to understand his motivations. Manipulating them to our benefit is another matter entirely," Laura said, squeezing Ignis's body closer. "And whoever belongs to those dark and desperate thoughts I keep feeling . . . even if Ardyn could let him go, I doubt he would simply because I asked."

"He's jealous of Noct—of the support he has in us."

"Even the light can lead you to darkness if you aren't careful," Laura reminded him. "It sounds as though he trusted in the gods that had him collecting that scourge, and they promised him the new kingdom of Lucis after the fall of Solheim."

"We never did receive confirmation of that from Gentiana," Ignis pointed out.

"And we likely never will, because he's claiming betrayal, being left on his own. They won't admit to being the cause of this openly."

"Betrayed or not, it hardly excuses everything he's done."

"You're right, it doesn't," she admitted, but her voice grew softer as she reached up to place her hand over his heart. "Can you imagine it though, Ignis? Being named the Chosen King, only his task was to heal the Darkness, not rid the world of it. Imagine he had no one to turn to as Noct did—no one to leave pieces of his heart with as he lost himself to fate—only to be betrayed by those who had told him to do it in the first place."

"If our theory is correct, he loved the Oracle he killed, and we still don't know what role his brother truly played in all this."

"Noct didn't begin to realize he loved Luna until he saw that the sacrifices you boys were making meant love. He needed you this entire time. He still needs you, and Luna wasn't enough. Ardyn's Oracle wasn't enough."

Ignis let out a breath and closed his eyes. "That such a future was even possible for Noct . . .." He shook his head. "I cannot fathom it."

"It almost feels like the gods were trying to repeat history, trying to keep Noct in the dark about his death so he'd walk into it."

"Do you suppose they had Ardyn collecting the scourge to kill him and rid the world of it?"

 _His description of touching the Crystal and turning it colors as it rejected him intrigues me. As far as we know, the Crystal is the only source on the planet to heal the sickness other than the man himself_ , Eilendil said.

"You believe the gods intended to use the Crystal to . . . 'heal the world of him,' so to speak, and it backfired?" Ignis asked.

 _Speculation. Possibly._

"Speculation," Ignis sighed. "I've always despised relying on it, and yet it seems as though we've little else to go on these days."

"Then enough speculating." Laura leaned up to let her lips linger at the corner of his frown. "If you want to shave this morning before we get going, you need to get up now."

"Do you happen to have a razor? I know you have no need for such things, but in seven thousand years, perhaps you may have collected one or two?"

"In a sense," Laura chuckled before pressing one last kiss to his cheek and opening her eyes.

She stepped lightly over to Ignis's bunk and leaned over his peacefully-sleeping body, sweeping his messy bangs away from his forehead and bending to skim her lips over his warm temple.

"Hey, time to get up, sleepyhead," she whispered into his ear.

His relaxed facial features didn't so much as twitch, but she felt the shift of his shoulders just before his arms wrapped around her middle and pulled, dragging her to his chest before he leaned up to nuzzle her neck.

 _Good morning, my beautiful bride_ , he said in a tender rumble, but even through the barrier he'd put up in his mind, she could still feel the worry churning in the undercurrent of his thoughts at meeting today's fixed point.

 _Good morning,_ she cooed into his chest, bringing a hand up to rub at the stubble prickling his jaw bulge. _Give it a couple of days, and you'd be my mountain man._

 _I despise the sensation as it grows out; it itches._

She shoved at his shoulder as she got up, and he groaned, reluctant to let her go.

 _Come on. You've got no mirrors and no razor, so I get to be in charge of your hair and face today,_ she said with glee. Of course, she had exactly seventy-three mirrors in her Pocket, and he probably knew that, but she wasn't about to bring it up.

He cracked an eye open to glare at her. _You're not planning to give me some absurd hairstyle in an attempt at humor, are you?_

She had to admit she was a little hurt that he would think she'd do that to him, but she said, _Yes, that was exactly my plan. How'd you know? Nothing would please me more than for you to be staring down Ardyn with pigtails._

 _I suppose I'm fortunate you have any of my toiletries at all in that Pocket of yours,_ he replied, turning to put his feet on the ground, straightening his back, and rolling his shoulders in long, slow circles as his t-shirt loosened and tightened over his chest.

 _Come on,_ she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. _Shave first, then hair, then clothes._ She led him to a chair next to the cracked porcelain sink and sat him down. A quick clench of the teeth as a flash of fire shot across her brain, and his shaving brush and soap appeared in her hands. _Would you mind lathering the soap?_ she asked as she ran the brush under the water.

 _I wondered where this extra set went for the longest time._

 _All these years spent collecting things, I might have become a bit of a kleptomaniac. I only wish I'd thought to steal some of your uniforms as well._ Leaving a quick kiss on his forehead, she skipped back to his bed and pulled one of his daggers from its scabbard under his pillow. _Unfortunately for you, I didn't think to get you a spare razor._

Her lips quirked up into a slight smile as his mind split and refracted—a dual impression of trust and apprehension at her implied proposition. But he played it cool as he said, _And what are the odds of the others awakening to find you with a blade to my throat the morning after I marry you?_

Laura leaned down to take the brush from his hand. He raised an eyebrow before lifting his chin to bare his throat and jaw for lathering.

 _Since I can feel their minds stirring, I'd say the odds are pretty good._ She set the brush in his soap container and picked up the dagger from the sink. _Now hold still,_ she said, flipping the blade in her hand and bringing it to his throat. _I've never done this before._

He didn't budge, but his eyes widened a fraction. _Truly?_

 _What? Shave a man's face with a dagger? No, extensive though my combat training was, it never came up. Still, it's not like shaving is all that difficult. Used to do it as a human all the time. The blade just happens to be a little longer._

 _Just . . . be careful, we needn't set ourselves up for any more close shaves today._

She tipped his head back as he sighed and forced himself to relax against the angled edge at his throat. Laura herself began to relax into the routine as she worked, sinking into the peace of the morning here in their little cocoon of warmth in the middle of the dark—the deep breaths of the boys at her back; Ignis's own slow, steady breathing; the scrape of the blade against his skin; the clean, smoky sage scent of his soap; and the intriguing zing of his arousal stoking a gentle ember in the back of her head.

 _What are you doing?_ he asked when she leaned in to graze her lips across the soft skin next to his Adam's apple.

 _Testing to make sure I got everything_ , she replied, smiling against his neck. _I may have to go back and do this for each section, now that I think of it._

 _Mmm, I've no objections here, though even if you miss a spot, I'll manage to scrape by._ He lowered his chin to capture her lips lazily, but the spell was broken when they both heard Gladio's groan as he rolled over.

"Heh, always knew you were gonna kill him somehow, Princess," Gladio grunted in a scratchy voice at the sight of her finishing up a few spots here and there. "Gotta admit though—didn't think it'd be with his own blade."

"Ugh, you're _shaving_ him now?" Noct groaned, rubbing his eyes.

She paused in running the blade over Ignis's cheek to glance over at Prompto, who had silently swung his legs over the side of the bed without a hint of his usual morning cheer and stared blankly down at his feet. Bloody hell, she wasn't looking forward to their conversation this morning, of having to tell him that she'd forgotten to bring him up to speed on things—especially considering that it seemed he had something profound to come clean about to them all, as well. At some point—hopefully soon.

She pointed the dagger at Noct with a glare. "Be grateful. There are far worse things you could catch us doing the morning after our wedding night."

"By the gods, may Ramuh strike me down in this very spot," Ignis moaned.

She rounded the blade on Ignis next, growling, "That's not funny."

He did, at least, have the good grace to look sheepish as his eyes dropped to the floor. "It's just an expression."

Swiping the blade across his cheek one last time to finish up, she said softly, "For everyone else in the world, perhaps, but not for you."

While the others slowly woke up, she used Ignis's wax to style his hair as he ran his hands over his face, no doubt checking to see if it was still in one piece.

 _We'll have to do this again someday,_ he said thoughtfully.

 _Oh yeah? You liked that, did you?_

 _Sometimes it takes me by surprise, the things you do that make me feel this way._

One last adjustment to the feathering in front of his ears, and she leaned in to place a brief kiss on his smooth cheek. _Finished. And you can tell from the lack of snickering that I did not, in fact, give you pigtails._

She made to pull away, but his hand darted out suddenly to grasp at her fingers. Those large, emerald eyes of his shone with contrition as he said, _Thank you, and forgive me; I didn't intend to insult your attempt to care for me. You always have brought out my ruder tendencies._

 _For which I've always been grateful. Don't worry about it_ , she said with a squeeze of his hand. _Go get dressed while I take care of breakfast._

Ignis stood, reaching for the clothes she'd left out last night before heading to the shower cubicle to change. _Keep my portion small, if you please. The food may not be real, but I feel as though I've done nothing but eat since last night._

Laura had just pulled out the container of warm, frulotte and cream oatmeal when Gladio suddenly bolted upright on the bed.

"Hey! Did he come last night?"

"Did _who_ come last night?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. So much for discussing this calmly with Prompto over breakfast.

Laura opened her mouth to answer when a flash of blonde hair appeared over her eyes, obscuring her vision of reality. A torn, groaning hiss seemed to vibrate over her paracortex—a death rattle of a mind clawing out in desperation.

 _Library. She's in the library._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

So. Episode Ardyn. Interesting. I'll be using very little from the prologue and the episode, so don't assume what you've seen or played has happened for this story.

World of Ruin has been a lot of fun to play in these past weeks! Updates are still going to be coming slow because I really want to finish this first draft before I start publishing the meat of it.

The planet Pensacola comes from the end of the movie Contact, and Ignis's song is My Humblest Desire from the Episode Ignis soundtrack.


	79. Chapter 79

_You don't need to stay awake for this,_ Laura said to Eilendil as they crept past yet another uniform lying innocently draped spread-eagled across the floor. _There isn't anything you can do if we run into trouble._

With the five of them reunited and armed, their morning spent winding through the deserted hallways and the still-operating monitoring stations had been eerily silent, devoid of any sort of opposition—except for the recurring brush of that dying and tormented mind against hers, growing more and more labored as he succumbed to the scourge. The news of their tail had put everyone on edge—coloring even Eilendil's thoughts a sickly sort of green.

 _My intellect has managed to keep you alive thus far. I am not about to change a lifetime of habit._

"Air . . . is . . . in the l—library," Ravus choked again.A crash of heavy plastic and the deep ring of hollow metal against concrete echoed from a distance down the twisting corridors, and Noct, Gladio, and Prompto looked over at her for confirmation.

"I don't know what he's doing."

"Is he too far gone to put him outta his misery?" Gladio asked.

Laura's lips twitched into a frown as she nodded. "Even if he weren't so far away, he's too daemonized for me to touch like that. There's not even enough of him to reach out telepathically like he was earlier. I think he's just blindly repeating his last human thought."

"So . . . we're gonna have to fight him when he can't . . . fight it anymore," Prompto said under his breath.

Noct let out a sigh. "Luna's brother . . . all this time, I thought he was our enemy."

"Though I regret the need for destroying an ally, we'd be doing him a favor," Ignis pointed out. His voice grew soft as he continued, "It's what I would have wanted had our positions been reversed."

Noct reached the end of the hall and looked back to Laura with an eyebrow raised questioningly, and she pointed to the right—the direction from which the deep, subtle bass hum floated on the air, which they'd been following all morning in the hopes of turning off the Wallbreaker to get Noct's powers back.

 _I think I'm beginning to hear it myself,_ Ignis said, cocking his head as they turned the corner onto yet another deserted wreck of a hallway.

"But how's he alive now when we saw him killed over a week ago?" Gladio asked.

"And he looked pretty dead last night," Noct muttered. "Kinda preserved for a week-old corpse though."

"Ardyn's work, no doubt," Ignis said. "I imagine the ability stems from the life portion of the Power of Eos—more powerful than that which Noct pours into a phoenix down."

Prompto grimaced over at her. "Yeah, but how can he _do_ that? Just bring people back to life?"

"What is life? A quirk of matter. Nature's way of keeping meat fresh," Laura quoted with a shrug, though a secret frisson of awe passed through her at just how _much_ he could do with those daemonic powers of his. What were the limitations, and just what the _hell_ was this scourge that made him capable of wielding his powers so versatilely? "If he can do it now, though, I wonder why he didn't do it when he killed his Oracle. Perhaps he wasn't powerful enough or didn't know how?"

"Let's just concentrate on finding him in this hellhole and puttin' him outta his misery," Gladio growled, "both of 'em."

"Gladio," Laura warned. She was beginning to grow concerned for this mounting frustration and anger building a volcano in his mind. "It won't make any difference to kill him."

She could understand his feelings, though, given that his lifelong servitude and devotion was so very similar to Ignis's, and he had only just learned for certain that he would fail—had been doomed to fail from the very beginning. This was his Altissia.

She could only hope the consequences weren't as devastating as that unimaginably disastrous day.

"I don't give a shit," he muttered obstinately.

 _Is that going to be a problem?_ Ignis asked, frowning first at Gladio, then down to her. _Between him and this fixed point, this premonitory sense looming is becoming . . . unsettling, to say the least._

 _As always . . .._

 _Wait and see,_ he sighed. _I can only hope that the worst of whatever may befall us occurs when we're all safe—far from this endless, abhorrent keep._

This 'keep' _was_ unnecessarily large, likely designed by some moron who probably wore a long cape and loved the way it billowed out behind them as they strode through this maze. She'd seen very little in the way of tactical necessities for an empire beyond the communications and monitoring stations, and how many of those could one place possibly need? The most absolutely baffling asset of the place besides the crates and random piles of construction materials was the weapons vending machine . . . seriously? Who in this military base would be buying military-issue weapons from a vending machine? The MTs? The staff? Why weren't these provided elsewhere? And then the Emperor sat on a throne in this place somewhere, so it also served as a palace? Nothing about the building, the layout, or what they'd found inside so far made sense, even for an empire of war.

Really, this place was too much like the Death Star. The over-sized evil headquarters with useless, empty rooms, random boxes stacked in the corners, and meandering hallways must have been a theme for malevolent empires. She should really look into architecture theory when she had the chance to make sure there wasn't some enormous, interdimensional conspiracy going on to enslave humanity by means of terrible headquarter design.

 _Are you_ _ **truly**_ _disparaging the décor at a time like this?_ Ignis asked, glancing over at her with an eyebrow raised.

 _Call it a coping mechanism. The sooner we put Ravus to rest, the sooner we can get the Crystal, get this fixed point is behind us, and get the hell out of here._

At the end of the hall was a door marked A-06 in the worst font ever invented by mankind, the same barely-readable font that had been showcased on their map all this time. Honestly, that this empire had managed to rise up at all was suspicious; Lucis should have realized they'd been getting help from _someone_ when they began gaining ground, given the way everything else had been handled.

 _Ravus's words keep plucking at my thoughts. What does it mean?_ Ignis asked. _What library do you suppose he's referring to? He was saying 'she' earlier this morning. 'She' is 'air,' and she's in the library? Could he be referring to Garuda?_

 _I don't know, but it must be important if his last thoughts are so fixated on the idea. But we haven't seen anything even resembling a library in this pointless place._

Noct fumbled in his pocket for the keycard as they approached—because apparently Ardyn's journey for him the previous day had been all about obtaining the proper security clearances to be here. A swipe to the access box, and the doors hissed open to reveal . . . every evil lair she'd ever seen in every bad movie and every surreal experience she'd been through—particularly reminiscent of the intensive care unit at the New New York Hospital on New Earth. She eyed thousands of closed doors that lined the outer walls of the cylindrical cavern they'd found themselves in as they crossed the metal-grated catwalk that spanned a deep precipice.

Though the others probably missed it, neither Laura nor Ignis failed to spot the flash of a shredded white coat disappearing around the corner of a side passage leading out of the cavernous room, accompanied by that wave of Starscourged woe.

"Hope no one's afraid of heights," Prompto chuckled nervously, but even though he'd practically whispered the utterance, the sibilance of it seemed to echo off the walls and hundreds of feet down to wherever the floor was in this place.

Laura stopped to lean over the rail and get a better sense of what they were dealing with. What were the odds that one of them was going to end up dangling by their fingertips over this drop-off before the day was out? It seemed the only purpose for these vast rooms.

"We're surrounded by Starscourge; I can feel it," Ignis murmured under his breath, inspecting the doors.

"Great, just great," Noct muttered back.

"In this number, I'm thinking MTs? The cubicles are about the right size to hold one, but why store them like this? And why the frack are they randomly floating back and forth? What's the point?" Laura said. It seemed a terribly inefficient way to guard whatever was in the room at the center of this cavern, but then she supposed that given everything else she'd seen here, she shouldn't have been surprised in the least.

"The glowing red lights—this is feeling pretty familiar," Prompto said as he bit his lip and craned his neck up at the massive cylindrical room their walkway was leading them to.

"Yeah," Gladio replied, "Between the dark, bein' up so high, and the Magitek glow—feels like we're back in Costlemark."

"And that thing," Prompto whispered, pointing up at the glowing red turret-like device hovering from the ceiling high above their heads. "It looks kinda like those machines in Costlemark and the Magitek Production Facility, but more modern."

"This must be the Wallbreaker then," Ignis said. "Collecting Eos's energy from the Crystal, feeding it to the MTs, and blocking the Power of Kings."

"Which means what we're looking for is probably in that room up ahead," Noct said. "But I went through here yesterday. That door's locked, and my card won't work."

"Is there no way through?" Ignis asked, peering around the corner in hopes of finding another entrance or a window they could break.

As the five of them stopped in front of the high, black metal doors and Ignis ran his hands up the column of red lights going up the center, Laura frowned over at Prompto, standing rigid with his fists clenched at his sides. His mind was pulsing red and black, practically pushing against her senses with primal fear as he stared down at the keycard box like it was about to come alive and infect him.

Honestly, after all he'd been through, a single night's rest wasn't nearly enough to recover before setting out again. She could tell the way his hands would subtly tremble now and then that the potion and Ignis's healing attempts hadn't completely eradicated the strain on his arms. And though she had apologized profusely for forgetting to forewarn him of Ardyn's visit, it seemed to have undermined his confidence. God, she'd never meant to do this to him.

"Prompto?" she whispered, coming to stand next to him. "What is it?"

Prompto's watery cerulean eyes shifted to hers as he gave her a terrified smile.

"There's a way," he said shakily. "Pretty sure Ardyn planned for there to be a way, but it means I gotta tell you something."

Clearly, he'd learned far too much of hiding his true emotions, though not as convincingly as Ignis. His mind had always been a little on the false side, like he'd always been convincing himself just as much as the others of his cheery nature, but that self-consciousness, that fear of rejection was always roiling just beneath the surface. Grown men and seasoned warriors hadn't yet managed to master the sort of composure he was managing as his mind continued to flash and scream, but she supposed that given all he'd been through, he'd become both now at the tender age of twenty.

Apparently, it was time.

Laura took a step closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his back to let him know that no matter what he was about to say, he wasn't alone. But instead of speaking, Prompto raised his tight and shaking fist to the scanner and pressed the back of his hand against the reader. The light changed from red to green, and the doors slid open with an unnecessarily ominous and thunderous rumble.

Laura leaned over to peer around the corner, checking to make sure there was nothing dangerous awaiting them—and of course the fracking throne room would be here, of all places, where the controls to the Wallbreaker were. Seriously, absolutely _nothing_ about this place made any sense.

But she turned back to Prompto, waiting patiently for the explanation as to why he was so terrified and why the barcode tattoo on his wrist that he'd always kept mostly hidden beneath a collection of bracelets was capable of opening the throne room door to the enemy empire.

"So MTs . . . they've got those code prints. Just like I do," he said tonelessly, careful not to make eye contact with anyone.

"No, they don't," Laura said with a frown. Pointing to her head, she added, "Eidetic memory, and I think I'd remember seeing a barcode printed on the wrist of an MT. They don't even have wrists, really."

"Well, guess you wouldn't see them under the armor or something. So, as it turns out, I'm one of _them_. They're all clones; they're all . . . _me_." His speech grew hurried and panicked as he rushed to explain, "But I swear—I didn't know that when I told you guys I was born in Niflheim. I didn't lie."

Laura moved the hand at his back to entwine their fingers, squeezing tightly as he poured all his strength into squeezing back. He bit his lip as he tried his best to meet the eyes of the others, fighting back tears, but their minds had gone still with shock and confusion. As much as she would have preferred to see this moment play out without her intervention, she felt she needed to step in and clear something up first.

"Okay, so maybe you _are_ a clone, but that doesn't make you an MT. MTs are daemons, dear . . . not even that . . . just barely conscious scourge, like infected souls. And they don't even have bodies underneath that armor. You _know_ that. You've seen them sliced up."

"But—" he began to argue, furrowing his brow, but she cut him off.

"You're human—just as human as Gladio and Ignis. You just happened to be created in a lab and not born, but frack, that doesn't mean anything, I swear. Clone armies are nothing new in the universes, you know, and I've known a lot of good men and women who've been cloned."

His eyes pinched tight in pain and hope and fear and so many thoughts and emotions swirling in that head of his like a maelstrom, but it all came to a halt when Noct spoke.

"Yeah, and I think we already established we don't care where you were born . . . or created or whatever."

"I don't see you turning against us. Not now, or ever," Ignis said with a slight smile, reaching out to slap Prompto on the shoulder.

"Already got an alien on our team," Gladio said, leaning casually against the door jam and crossing his arms. "We could probably stand to diversify a little."

Prompto stuttered incoherently for a second, his eyes widening. "Thanks, guys. Still. I can't change where I came from," he said before his voice dropped to a near whisper. "What I am."

"Since when does where you come from matter to you?! You never once treated me as a prince," Noct said with a smile, stepping forward to punch Prompto lightly on the shoulder.

Gladio grunted out a laugh. "He's gotcha there."

"Never so much as a Highness," Ignis said loftily, his green eyes twinkling, but an undercurrent of disquiet was churning in his mind at Prompto's words. _We're going to have to catch up in greater detail when this is over. If the facility is capable of running on automatic, we must shut it down before leaving the Empire. And what if there are more?_ _What other experimental facilities could there be hidden among such a vast region?_

"We're done here. Come on, Crown citizen," Noct said teasingly, walking backward into the throne room with a cocky smirk.

 _Perhaps Aranea can give us more insight beyond Prompto's recounting, or even Biggs or Wedge._

Gladio slapped Prompto on the shoulder as he passed, saying warmly, "You're one of us, right?"

Laura stayed by his side as the other three made their way into the throne room, watching with an amused smile as he stood with his mouth gaping open.

Ignis turned back with a cheeky smile. "Unless you'd rather not be," he said wryly, raising an eyebrow. He turned to follow the others up the satin burgundy runner, repeatedly embossed with what she assumed to be the Niflian symbol up the middle.

She examined Prompto's star-struck expression and leaned into his shoulder. "Feels better, doesn't it? No more secrets, and we're all still here."

"I—I dunno what to say."

She leaned over further and kissed him on the cheek. "Come on, let's go see what trouble we can find in there."

 _I must say I don't care for this silence beyond Ravus._ _I never thought I would wish for daemons to spawn, but it's been far too quiet this morning,_ Ignis said as Laura and Prompto caught up and inspected the empty onyx, marble, and gold throne that was the focal point of the room. Though they had tried for opulence with the layered columns of glowing stone and sumptuous draping fabric, the effect was nothing compared to the grandeur of the throne that almost garishly displayed the long-acquired wealth of Insomnia.

But unlike Insomnia's throne, this one wasn't completely empty.

"Guess the Emperor musta changed here," Gladio said, frowning down at the long white robes trimmed in the same decadent red silk and metallic emblems; he'd 'died' at the helm, his hands still resting on top of the throne's armrests, given the positioning of the limp sleeves.

"Yep, looks like the Emperor got himself some new clothes," Laura said in an attempt to lighten the mood, but the odd looks she got from the four of them made it pretty clear the joke had been lost on them. "Never mind."

"So this is where it's coming from?" Noct asked as he approached the panels of switches and blinking lights that ran along the outer wall. Without waiting for confirmation, he raised Regis's sword and rammed it to the hilt into the machine.

She could feel the warning bit back on Ignis's tongue, but she still said, _Do they not teach you all electrical safety in school?_

 _I wouldn't know, but it would seem they don't,_ he said sardonically as the lights of the panel went out and the hum that had been reverberating in the back of her mouth like metallic balls all morning stopped. Arcs of electricity licked across the panels as Noct stepped back, and Laura's attention darted to the open ceiling, where the glowing red turret hovering high above them flickered and went out.

That block that had been niggling in the back of her mind just beyond her awareness loosened and broke free, and Ignis looked over at her questioningly.

 _Are you all right?_ he asked as the fire in her paracortex flared, briefly blocking out her vision in a red haze and sending needles down to her fingertips before settling. Gritting her teeth and retreating from their bond just that tiny sliver more, she looked over to see his green eyes large with concern.

"Ehh . . . so. Did it work?" Prompto asked, grimacing.

"With the device down and out, Noct's power should be up and running," Ignis said without breaking eye contact with her. _I can feel you retreating._

 _In a place like this, on a day like this, you don't need the additional distraction. We're going to have to disconnect at some point as we draw closer._

"Go on, try it." Gladio said.

A crushing wave of anxiety hit her as he processed her words; fixed point days and disconnecting their bond didn't exactly bring back fond memories. But he bit back the feeling immediately, shaking his head clear and letting out his breath.

 _Right, of course._

"All right," Noct let out on a sigh, holding his hand out and hesitating. "Moment of truth." A flash of phosphorescence shone from his fingertips before his favorite engine blade appeared in his hand.

"We're back baby!" Gladio shouted. "Now let's go find out if that fixed point is killing the creep once and for all."

Prompto bounced over to Noct on his tiptoes, both fists raised in the air. "All right!" he cheered, reaching down to slap Noct's ass in celebration.

"What a relief," Ignis sighed.

"Let's roll," Noct said, dismissing his sword and jerking his head toward the door.

Laura sighed a little to herself as they strolled to the arch of the open doorway, burying herself in the softer, frothier moods of the other four while she had the chance. The moment didn't last nearly as long as she'd hoped, as Ignis flung an arm out to stop Noct just as they passed underneath the arch. Massive, stony feet dropped out of the sky and crashed to the marble floor, sinking into the masonry as though it were thunderous, crackling grass. Black, muscular legs pulsed with effort as the roaring giant stood to its full, prodigious height.

"A gargantua," Ignis remarked mildly, pulling his daggers from their sheaths. "Well, it seems as though our weapons prowess is to be tested immediately then."

"About time," Gladio added.

* * *

 _Everything_ had grown dull, flattened, two-dimensional—with her bond cut off, her telepathy tamped down, and the waves of energy from the Crystal pulsing against her brain, pushing against the backs of her eyelids and setting her skull to aching. Ravus's presence was doing little to help matters, coating the tip of her tongue in that hauntingly familiar scourge with her every breath as he grew closer.

"Air . . . is . . . l—libr—librar—y."

"Your Majesty, your precious Crystal awaits you," Ardyn's voice rang merrily through the mostly-empty loading bay, deadening on the stacks of wooden crates against the wall and echoing off the quiet armors standing sentinel. "To liven things up, I thought I'd take you on a stroll down memory lane. Of course, memories decay with time," he snickered.

Ravus's torment seemed to rear up against her passive touch, threatening to stain her mind with that black anguish and even blacker scourge, as dragging, stuttering steps replaced Ardyn's voice.

"Can he hear us or not?" Noct asked, summoning his sword. "He should know by now we know it's Ravus."

"In whichever parts of the Keep are set up with listening devices, I'd imagine," Ignis replied, summoning his radiant lance and pointing it toward the dark corner the shuffling was coming from. "Remember, he's daemonized, so switch to a light weapon, Noct. His fighting style is swift, so be prepared to move."

"Thanks, Ig."

"Kill me! End it," Ravus wheezed on a weak scream as he staggered into the light, giving them all a full view of what had been haunting their steps since they left the bunk room this morning.

God, he had been revived ruthlessly. A corrupted sword hung from a fused fist by his side as he held his other hand outstretched toward them—whether in threat or supplication she couldn't be sure. The vicious purple-black glow of his heart was pulsing against his chest, fueling contaminated blood up to the curled horn ripping its way out of his half-transformed skull, to the reattached Magitek arm twisted and fused into his flesh. He'd doubled in height, his body straining against what was left of the torn shreds of the mark of his royal Tenebraean heritage.

"Gods, we shoulda stopped him leaving Altissia," Prompto whimpered. "What happened to him? He's enormous."

Laura's hearts broke for him as a dribble of putrid tar leaked from his mouth with a cough. She bit her lip before saying in a loud, slow voice, "We will, but first you have to explain. Tell us where to go. Ravus? Where is the library?"

But he'd given the last of his humanity with that final, desperate plea. With another hacking cough and convulsion that sent another sticky wave of oil dribbling down his chin, he arched his spine and threw his head back, spreading his arms wide and loosing a haunting, feral scream.

"He's gone," Ignis said heavily. "Let us respect his final wish."

She gritted her teeth as she reached for Ignis's orichalcums in the armiger, stretching out further to the pool of cool, soothing energy on her hip. Withdrawing just enough for the spell, she whispered, "Cálë." Though she couldn't contain her fingers tightening against the hilts, she was able to hold in the soft cry that threatened to escape her vocal chords as the bright silver UV light flared to life along the metal.

Not that Ignis was deceived for a second as he glared at her. She despised being disconnected from him at times like this—almost like having a limb severed in the middle of a fight for her life. They were no longer able to coordinate without thought or hesitation, even if they were still able to work seamlessly together through familiarity alone.

"We need to finish this as quickly as possible," she explained. "For his sake. There may be enough of him left to hold himself back for a while, but who knows how long it will last?"

"Laura, Gladio, keep his sword arm occupied while we attack from behind," Ignis called out as he gathered Prompto and Noctis to circle around the unprotesting zombie, still tripping forward.

Laura knew from Ignis's experience that Ravus's fighting style, even when he was holding back, was swift, vicious, and lightning-infused. As Gladio and Laura approached and Gladio swung his sword into Ravus's side, she hesitated for a moment when Ravus merely raised his blade above his head and froze. This wasn't what she had expected.

"Ravus," she entreated when he didn't react to Gladio's blow. "What library? Where is the library?"

"L—l—l," he stuttered before his body gathered itself and began to heave forward.

"Back!" Laura warned, and Gladio had just enough time to take several retreating steps before Ravus slammed his sword down into the concrete with a ringing clang.

"What's he doing?" Prompto asked, dropping to one knee, aiming, and taking another shot at Ravus's head as he clumsily pulled himself upright.

"Giving us a fighting chance in an attempt to end it more quickly, would be my guess," Ignis replied as he thrust his lance into Ravus's back and yanked it away, releasing a spout of oozing black blood.

Whatever self-preservational instinct Ravus had left in him must have kicked in, as he leaned forward and almost . . . warp-slid across the floor, the metal on the edges of his shredded boots scraping against the concrete in a shower of sparks.

"Whoa!" Noct ejected before warping up to the ceiling, then warp-striking down to Ravus's throbbing chest.

Laura doubted she could manage a warp this close to the Crystal, so she scurried along with the others to the other side of the loading bay. Ravus stumbled back, his half-transformed face twisting with rage, and thrust his sword at Noct's gut with a sharp demonic roar. Noct phased in a web of blue as he spun to the right and tossed his lance into Ravus's side with another warp.

"Damn, and I thought he was strong before," Gladio muttered as they reached the battle. He parried Ravus's advance away from Noct, knocking the blade to the side as Laura darted in to take advantage of the opening he'd created.

The slow, lumbering swordwork as Ravus struggled to control himself made up for his terrifyingly strong hits, allowing them the time to twist and spin out of the way with ease as they continued to chip away at his broken and unnaturally resilient body. The echoes of the last of his humanity continued to batter at her as they worked on him, driving a lance of mental agony into her already aching skull and washing her away in a wave of vertigo.

The seething, toxic violet of his veins brightened as he lost his battle with the scourge, and they found that they had to move more quickly as the ferocity of his attacks grew swifter and more violent. With a groan of effort, Ravus smashed his blade to the ground again in a blast of concrete shrapnel, and, thinking the effort was another redirection of uncontrollable force, they didn't bother to back away farther than the reach of his massive sword.

But of course, their assessment had been wrong, and of course, she, already in a vulnerable state, was closest to this newest tactic. Viscous black goo melted like burning plastic in a puddle around Ravus's feet, sticking to her boots, sapping her strength, and clawing at her mind.

 _Laurelín,_ Eilendil roared as she dropped to her knees, holding her pounding head between her fists still gripping her falchions. _You must move clear of him!_

She was far from being able to stagger to her feet and move away. Raking claws seemed to dig through skin and bone down to the soft flesh of her brain, setting her eyes and thoughts on fire. The sight of Ravus's bared and blackened teeth grew smaller and darker as she fell forward on her aching fists.

"Iggy!" she dimly heard Noct yell from so very far away.

Stars—Ignis in danger too? But the necklace . . . his daggers. She _had_ to help, but her eyes were falling closed of their own volition as panic began to seize what little rational thought she was capable of. Even Eilendil was howling Ignis's name—somewhere in the back of her mind. No! Where were the timelines at a time like this? That fixed point was still lingering like a knot lodged at the back of her throat, but what could she do in this state to save him—bloody hell, even to _see_ him?

She was going to let him down; she had no other choice as her arms trembled to keep her face out of the slowly dissipating pool of Ravus's dark magic.

"No!" Ignis shouted, and she could hear the jaw-clenching ring of metal meeting metal, suddenly so close to her head that she wondered if Ignis was about to collapse on top of her. Ravus's answering roar retreating with another warp-slide implied that his objective had been achieved. Oh stars, how badly was Ignis hurt?

She was just about to scream with the last of her strength for _one_ of the others to rescue him when two strong, familiar arms wrapped around her middle and chest, lifting her free of the sticky pool.

"Rose," she heard Ignis murmur as she felt herself being carried away, "open your mind to me—just for a moment, love."

As he set her down again and gently rolled her over onto her back, she reluctantly obeyed—that warm, calm burgundy splashing and shining its way through every corner without pausing to linger in the joy of reconnecting. But even with his reassuring presence in her head, thoughts had become odd and distorted, trickling like raindrops on the other side of a glass windowpane she couldn't reach. She could just barely feel him surge toward her connection with the Crystal, gathering her energy, his own, and her native energy in the emerald at her hip to cast his regeneration spell on her.

' _ope ya don't do it too good and make me regenera'e,_ she giggled. _Make for a really confusin' day._

 _You're delirious. Please hold still while this works,_ he replied shortly as the spell crept slowly over her body, making her limbs tingle with warmth and her lungs burn as she sucked in a deep breath. The cobwebs cleared from her head, and she was _finally_ able to look up into the seemingly calm malachite of his eyes, sensing that tightly reined-in panic and the pain he was now sharing from the Crystal ringing through their bond.

"Thank you," she said, blindly fumbling out to catch his fingers with her own as she retreated from the connection again. _And thank you, for calling him,_ she added to Eilendil.

 _He is my body. It is good to have a physical ally I can call upon when you are too stupid to save yourself._

"I save you; you save me. It's what we do," Ignis quoted as he pulled her to her feet and studied their situation. He nodded once in thanks to Prompto, who had stood over them and kept watch as he got his shots in each time Noct and Gladio had drawn back.

"Thanks, Prom for looking out for us," Laura said, pulling his cheek to her lips.

"You know I always will," he called back as she and Ignis returned to the front line.

Noct had drawn Ravus into the corner farthest from them, releasing his mortal identity to send shooting stars of his family's glaives into Ravus's infected flesh as he hovered in the air over the gargantuan half-daemon.

"Can you manage a stronger light spell? He's nearly finished, I believe," Ignis asked as he rushed to Noct's side and summoned his daggers again.

Laura couldn't help but snort a little at his courteous tone here in the middle of a battle, but she answered, "Yes, but I wouldn't be able to sustain it for long."

"Very well," he said as he lunged forward to cover Gladio while he cracked a potion in his fist. "We need to coordinate, concentrate all our power on him at once."

"So you do overwhelm, and we all use our light weapons?" Noct suggested.

Ignis nodded. "A capital idea." Turning to Prompto as Laura and Gladio moved to cover the twisting, roaring Ravus, he called out, "The moment you see us strike, fire a shot to his head."

The dance was easier now that they knew not to have their feet on the floor when Ravus's blade touched the concrete, but the strategy became keeping Ravus occupied as they waited for the right opening for all of them to get into position. The moment arrived when Ravus raised his sword above his head for another slow, forceful blow to the floor.

"Do it now, Ig," Noct shouted when he'd phased back into the world from another sparkling warp-strike.

"Give it all we got!" Ignis shouted back over another of Ravus's screams, flinging a hand out towards their enemy.

Laura had never truly understood how Ignis's spiritual magic worked in this realm—where not even the Lucian kings could affect the mind in such a way. Even the Glaives' limited spiritual magic that she'd seen didn't quite have the versatility that his did. The effect on the spirit wasn't technically telepathy for the others, even if it was for her because of their bond, tamped though it was. For them, it seemed more an influential empathic touch, growing stronger and more effective as they endured their trials together and grew closer. His precision focus lent to the five of them, they all rushed forward as one, driving their steel and mithril deep into the body of the tortured half-man. Laura waited for the explosions of Prompto's shots before she drew from the emerald and shouted, "Aiáncala!"

Molten flame poured over her synapses as the holy light of the stars rushed from the six blades and four bullets lodged inside the radioactive body. She closed her eyes against the pain and the ear-piercing shriek emitting from her fingers, ignoring the fact that she could feel Ignis's eyes on her as his consciousness hovered just outside their bond.

Their swords and lances pulled free of the body as Ravus fell to his knees with a choking, guttural growl, hacking up a mass of congealed scourge as his inky eyes bulged. Bloody hell, she knew too well the terror as that tar coated the lungs, mouth, and mind alike, ripping away rational thought and reducing one's entire identity to instinctual, lashing fear. Even the linings of his nose and eyelids would be covered in the sticky slime of seething hate. She couldn't think of a worse way for a man to die.

With a final gasp, Ravus fell face-first to the floor, twitching and convulsing for a moment before finally going still and quiet.

Laura stood next to Ignis in the circle they'd formed around the prone body, staring down at such a very young man who may have made some rather foolish decisions, but must have had very few choices in his life.

Gladio was the first to break the silence. "A sorry end for the High Commander, for anyone. He was a man with hopes and dreams."

"Jeez, Gladio," Laura muttered, wincing. "You've been officially relieved of giving any sort of eulogy ever again. That was awful."

"Ugh. It's horrible," Prompto said tremulously, grimacing at the body still slick with Starscourge, its pulse still ebbing as black tears slid down the white cheek she could see beneath his hanging curtain of grey hair.

Ignis closed his eyes, sighing before inhaling a deep breath. "Lord Ravus Nox Fleuret, Prince of Tenebrae—a man who repeatedly sacrificed his life and happiness to achieve a higher calling, to protect his beloved sister despite insurmountable odds. He was willing to do anything, give anything to save her, and received naught but scorn in return. He certainly didn't deserve such a fate," he said, his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. "We shall move forward with his name added to the list we carry in our hearts, and in whose names we shall exact retribution."

At their murmurs of agreement, Laura kneeled next to Ravus, tentatively reaching out to the shredded white coat and pushing him over onto his back. There was something about the angle of his jaw, the shape of his eyes, the angle of his brow that reminded her of Ignis—young and old at the same time. She reached out with gentle fingers to brush a lock of hair away from his ruined brow.

"Laura," Ignis stated flatly, though she could hear the hesitation in his tone.

"It's not contagious through touch like this," she reminded him. She placed her hands on Ravus's tear-stained cheeks and closed her eyes, reaching out for the fiery light of the Crystal space. Frack, it hadn't burned this much the night she'd waited for Regis, but she was so much closer to the thing now. She couldn't stay for long, so the moment she opened her eyes to the undulating aurora, she shouted the message to anything, anyone that would listen.

"Hey! This Anathema would just like to say—if this is any indication of how you treat your defenders, maybe I stand a better chance being despised. Another one of your servants has died in your service. The least you can do is grant him peace!" she shouted before withdrawing. She opened her eyes in time to watch Ravus's body grow fainter, fading away beneath her hands in a puff of vapor and sylleblossom petals.

"What did you do?" Ignis breathed.

"From the looks of it, I called his sister."

"Luna?" Noct asked from above her.

"I imagine she was the only one who could put his soul to rest."

"Why didn't he . . . transform all the way? The disease didn't work like that back in Lucis; people would just disappear."

Ignis's eyes flickered over her before they shot to Noct with a frown. "We've seen evidence that those with time in their DNA can be infected instantly and yet not transform. Perhaps his heritage is responsible."

"I'd say that's likely," Laura said, looking back down at the stained concrete. "He wasn't a pure-blooded heir of Eos, nor did he have the telepathic barriers to resist the mental onslaught." She grew quieter at the memories. "It was a miracle he could pass anything at all to us, really."

She stood and backed up against Ignis's chest as he carefully placed his hands on her shoulders. The five of them stood in silence, staring down at the empty spot on the floor before slowly turning toward the elevator.

"Look out, we've got company!" Gladio bellowed unnecessarily, summoning his sword to his hands again as they all followed suit.

A black hole in the floor seemed to open up from nowhere—in front of them, behind them, surrounding them on all sides as it heaved and rolled like an ocean in a storm. The typical whispering rush and creaking groans of daemons breaking through the skin of the world rose up to the dull roar of a multitude as hundreds of them pooled up out of the floor, beginning their existence as wispy columns of vapor and slowly solidifying into identifiable forms. As one, the dark army of daemons of every species crept toward them with ominous snickering, cackling laughter, and threatening hissing.

"Ohh, man, there's no WAY we can beat all these," Prompto cried out as he took several retreating steps, realized there were only more behind him, and stopped between Noct and Ignis.

They weren't meant to win this battle.

"We gotta come up with some kinda plan. No way can we win this," Gladio agreed as he lunged forward and swiped his sword across a goblin's torso, cutting it in half.

"We could clear a path for Noct so he could go ahead and get to the Crystal," Prompto suggested, dismissing his pistols in favor of his gravity well and backing up so he didn't suck them all in when he activated it.

Noct's vehement denial was barely audible over Ignis's, "Absolutely not! If we can clear a path for one, we can clear a path for all."

Laura cleaved a falchion through the arm of a wraith before spinning to the side, dancing around Ignis's gracefully flitting form to bury her other blade into the quivering muscle of a naga. "Everyone try to get back to back. Form a circle of protection, and we'll make our way to the elevator together."

"You could still get to the Crystal . . . if you left alone," Ardyn taunted over the speakers. "Your friends will have to stay behind."

That smooth, calm voice that Laura had always associated with futuristic computers echoed through the loading bay the moment he'd finished: "Hangar gate closing. Please stand clear."

"You'd better think fast!" Ardyn said as they drew closer to the back wall together—she, Gladio, and Ignis taking the retreating edge of the circle as Noct and Prompto took the leading edge to the elevator door. "I don't envy you your decision."

When Noct reached out to press the button and turned his back against the wall, Laura pushed them all against its protection, calling on her bond with the Crystal to cast a shimmering web of blue around them. Each scrape of teeth, each slap of body and sword may as well have been tearing at her flesh as she flexed that bond to keep the shield intact. When the elevator doors groaned open with a cheery _ding_ , they nearly fell inside, dismissing their weapons for a moment in favor of catching their breaths. With the cage door closed behind them and no daemons in the small space, Laura canceled the spell, fell against the corner of the elevator, and closed her eyes, rubbing at her temples.

"Does anyone need medical attention?" Ignis asked as the elevator jerked down and the snarling from the cage walls above receded.

She sighed in relief at the muttered, "Nah," "I'm good," and "All good here!" Opening her eyes and spreading her lips into a twinkling smile, she said, "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to do some running."

Which was exactly what the five of them did as the doors shuttered open to reveal the crate-lined path that would lead them across a vast, dark hangar to the central elevator shaft.

"Betraying your friends for the greater good—the mark of a monarch!" Ardyn jeered as the five of them scattered to pass a reaper clawing its way out of the ground. "Step forth, Your Majesty! If you wish to obtain the Crystal's power, you must be prepared to lose all else."

"Guess that answers whether he can see us," Noct huffed.

Their boots skidded against the concrete as a gargantua ripped and clawed its way up through the ground, but those hangar bay doors were tantalizingly close, their matte black metal shining in the low light as the gap between them grew steadily narrower. The five of them scattered, taking clear routes on both sides of the daemon as he lifted his ridiculously massive sword above his head to slam it down to the ground in front of him as Ravus had.

And there was a thought . . . where were these massive weapons coming from, anyway? The clothes that appeared on some daemon types but not others? Ravus's daemon sword certainly hadn't been his own. Was that part of the transformation? It seemed the more they learned about this disease, the less it made sense. She only knew just enough about genetics and medicine to get herself into trouble, but she was pretty confident in saying that no human disease made weapons appear in one's hands. She also doubted Ardyn had a hidden factory somewhere dedicated to crafting goblin hats, as well.

The room on the other side was suspiciously free of daemons as the cargo bay doors slammed shut behind them, but they didn't pause for a second in their mad dash. As the burn from her brain stretched its fingers down her throat and into her chest, Ignis wrapped his long fingers around her arm and pulled her around the wall of the circular ramp leading up to the elevator. She couldn't hide it anymore as those sleek metal doors pulled shut behind them and, for the moment, they were all _finally_ relatively safe. She leaned her hot forehead against the cool wall—struggling to keep from gasping as her lungs stretched painfully around that fire.

They were almost there—that hellfire was searing her synapses more and more the closer they drew. She could only hope with her resonant frequency as aligned as it could be that the boys wouldn't suddenly start turning on her.

The gentle hand that had just brushed against the top of her shoulder jerked back a little at the sound of Ardyn's condescending tones sounding far too close in the closed-off room.

"Do you suppose your dear friends are still alive? I must say, it's not looking good for our heroes. I don't see them anywhere on my monitors! What if they've perished before you had the chance to say goodbye?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw Gladio open his mouth, likely to vent that boiling need for violence with some colorful insult, but Ignis placed a finger over his lips and shook his head.

"Those who died for you—do you ever wonder what went through their minds? Can you even recall their final words?"

Ignis and Prompto each took one of her elbows as the doors slid open. Honestly, she didn't need help to walk . . . yet, but if they were ambushed on this long walkway suspended over yet _another_ precipice, as much as she hated to admit it, she'd probably need some assistance.

"Any news on that fixed point?" Noct whispered as they slowly approached the massive hollow sphere set at the end of the raised walkway—a fracking tiny Death Star, she should have known.

Her steps faltered as she caught sight of the blue-purple-green glow that could only be the source of every trouble they'd had since she arrived on this planet, but something else was pricking at the back of her mind, distracting her from the present moment. Everything else in her brain was screaming not to look down through the metal grating, but her body betrayed her as she dropped her eyes to the rock floor far below.

The image of her husband's long, elegant frame lying limp and ashy in her lap was nearly solid—in full technicolor just below her feet as his chest collapsed into his last breathy exhale.

Shaking her head and shifting her thoughts back to the present universe, she said, "No."

"It doesn't matter. Whatever happens, at least we're all together."


	80. Chapter 80

Ignis released his hold on Laura, who slumped against the low rail that formed a circle around the grated platform here in this unusual sphere of a room. There was no sense in asking her if she was all right—she clearly wasn't. With one final, reassuring caress to her shoulder, he turned to the more pressing matter demanding his attention. For the first time in his life, Ignis studied the petrified uterus with full knowledge of everything it represented, everything it truly was, and everything it could and had taken away from him.

Of course, he was also blessed with the full knowledge that this rock was the only thing in all of creation that could help them save the world.

The Crystal appeared much as it had the one time in his life he'd seen it—when King Regis had taken him and Noct to the heavily-guarded room and ordered that the long, octagonal cylinder it had been kept in be opened so that they could lay eyes on Noct's destiny. Its dark outer shell seemed to suck in all ambient light, creating a black hole despite pushing out waves of aurora. The shell was split open to reveal a cavity—the inside of the womb lined with crystalized electric-blue stalactites, and further in, Ignis could just make out the softer, almost flesh-like glowing pink of its lining.

He couldn't decide in that moment whether he treasured or despised the thing that had had such a profound impact on his fate, but even with his senses closed, that power he had grown so familiar with over the course of their journey pressed against his skull and soaked into his skin. It deserved his respect, whatever it . . . _she_ had inadvertently done to them all, for whether she had created all life on this planet in the fashion of a true goddess or merely brought humans from Earth to settle here, she was responsible for their existence.

"So, um . . . what now?" Prompto asked in a hushed tone.

The blue and purple glow of the aurora undulated lazily, casting eerie patterns of shadow and light across Noct's pale face as he gazed up at his destiny. Whatever happened in these next few minutes would be the fixed point they'd been waiting for, Ignis knew without having to ask Laura, just as well as he knew that Noct's foreboding meant this point wouldn't be pleasant for any of them, even if he wouldn't be slated to die for another several long years.

Noct's frown deepened. "I dunno. It's not like I have a manual or anything."

"Those kings aren't saying anything?" Gladio asked.

"No," he snapped. Taking a deep breath through gritted teeth, he looked up sharply at the bright cavity in the center, his eyes blazing with an equally ferocious glow. "So here goes nothing."

Reaching forward with his ringed hand, he whispered fiercely, "Please, help me stop the daemons. Help me keep my friends safe."

Allowing Noct's outstretched hand to make contact with the Crystal went against Ignis's every instinct. There were few in this world that had ever even _seen_ the Crystal in its secure location at the Citadel, but His Majesty had made it all too clear the one time he had taken Ignis and Noct to see it that it should never, under any circumstances, be touched. The Crystal represented the purest heart of the star, he had explained, which couldn't make contact with the impurity of the planet below. It seemed that Ardyn had known this as well, as he had at least chained it to float above this platform in this spherical room—several layers of protection, then. But the audacity he had displayed by removing it from its chamber and damaging the shell by inserting the hooks to attach to the chains . . . it was clear Ardyn wished to cause the Crystal pain.

But Noct had been Chosen. He possessed whatever sort of purity the Crystal demanded to make direct contact with what was left of their mother goddess. As Noct's fingers drew closer, Rose gasped a sharp breath of pain as the tendrils of light reached out like hands welcoming a long-lost loved one. Torn as to whom he should give his focus, Ignis kept his eyes locked on Noct, praying to her dormant thread that she would forgive him for not turning to her in that significant moment.

The aurora curled around Noct's arm and wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him a step closer—until his hand shot forward suddenly and made contact with the lip of the cavity.

"Agh!" Noct cried out. Though at a loss for how, exactly, they could help, the three of them took a step forward, but Noct flung his free hand out behind him to stop them. "No! It's okay. I think . . ." He struggled to pull back a little as the Crystal continued to drag him up and forward. "I think this is supposed to happen. It's a womb, right? Gotta be reborn, or whatever."

"How do ya figure that?" Prompto asked. "That sounds kinda gross."

"Dunno. Sorta making it up as I go," he chuckled weakly before turning his head toward Laura with a soft smile. "Learned from the best."

"Noct," Ignis said softly, completely at a loss for what to say, what to do.

"S'okay, Specs. Just take care of each other till I get back."

As he opened his mouth to say . . . something, Ignis heard slow, ambling footsteps over the metal grating, and he spun to face the threat, planting himself between Noct and Rose.

"Aww, how touching," Ardyn's voice echoed in the vast space, closer, more real than it had been for two days as they fought their way through this maze of horrors. "And look! Unharmed by the light—a Chosen King indeed."

His suspicions confirmed, Ignis's eyes fell on the shadow responsible for the utterance and that lazy, rolling gait headed towards them. It faltered for a moment as Ardyn's head whipped in Laura's direction. Perhaps it was merely Ignis's imagination, but his steps seemed to grow less predatory as they continued.

"What's this? An anathema as well?" He tilted his head, his signature smirk and mischievous eyes coming into view as he drew closer to the Crystal's brightened light.

Laura pushed herself to her feet, standing tall next to Ignis, but he was well-accustomed to her body language after months of enduring their trials together. He took a step closer to her side to catch her should she collapse but was careful to maintain some distance so as not to make her appear too weak to defend herself.

"Then this _isn't_ your flesh . . ." he continued in the wake of their silence. "How interesting, but I'm afraid circumstances dictate that we attend to another matter first."

Ardyn's attention shifted to Noct, who was now struggling against the pull of the Crystal to join the potential altercation brewing.

"I suppose much of my thunder has been stolen away by recent revelations, and yet . . . indulge me in regaling you with a tale. In an age long past, an incurable scourge ravaged mankind as they retreated into primitivism after a long war—a tiny menace that twisted men into monsters, the likes of which you've seen. In Lucis lived a savior who could cure the afflicted. At the behest of the remaining Five, his body would come to host myriad daemons, that countless lives be spared."

"We've gathered this," Ignis stated icily, glancing briefly behind him to see that Noct was halfway pulled into the Crystal; they only had seconds left. Noct would return; Pryna's vision foretold it, but for how long would the Crystal demand he gestate? Ignis despised Ardyn in that moment for forcing him to turn his back on this scene. This could very well be the final moment the five of them had to say goodbye before the day his despicable vision took place, and they were instead forced to play this game with an egotistical madman.

"Then allow me to tell the tale from my side, for once," he replied, his voice developing a keen edge as he came to a halt in front of them. "The dwindling population needed a leader in the wake of the apocalypse, and who better to serve than the sage that cured their woes in such dark times with knowledge and power in equal measure? The gods made a treaty with man, a promise to name their equal once he had proven himself worthy of the Crystal's blessing. He was to become the King of Lucis, the King of Light."

Ardyn's brow furrowed as he spoke, his eyes growing large and pained and . . . more sincere than Ignis had ever seen. So, this must be the man stripped completely of his persona. Even his voice had lost that unctuous, playful melody, growing soft in a way that Ignis was hesitant to identify as honesty.

"But he was betrayed—deceived into gathering the affliction into himself so that he could be sacrificed—cleansed in the holy fires of the Crystal for the sins of man and god alike. A jealous, violent king, one not yet chosen by the Crystal, turned on his brother, along with those the healer once thought were his allies. They made a true monster of him."

"Yeah, probably cause you killed your Oracle, so Somnus had no choice but to take you out," Gladio said, his fist tightening around the hilt of the sword he'd summoned the moment Ardyn had appeared. "Don't pretend like you're the helpless innocent in all this."

"What is it you want?" Ignis asked flatly to cut through the rubbish, because this . . . _creature_ was sullying their parting, and Ignis had so much to say before Noct left.

"Noct," Ardyn said tenderly, ignoring Ignis's demand, "killing you as a mortal will bring me scant satisfaction. Claim the Crystal's power. Arise as its champion. Only once the Crystal and King are no more can I know redemption."

Ignis summoned his daggers as Ardyn came to stand between Ignis and Gladio and grinned up at Noct, who was still struggling against the Crystal's pull. It had taken him by the shoulders now, and the cords in Noct's neck bulged as he twisted and fought to loose himself from its grip to join the rest of them in this confrontation.

"Come back soon," Ardyn crooned. He smirked wickedly at the four of them, gesturing with a grand sweep of his hand. "I shall keep your friends company until you are ready."

"We'll be here, Noct, always," Ignis called to his king's retreating face. "We'll be waiting."

With a final, heart-wrenching scream of, "I'll come back for you!" Noct disappeared in a flash of blue, leaving the Crystal's light to wane to a subtle, nearly black indigo. Ignis's eyes darted around the scene, taking stock of their assets and weaknesses in this situation. With Laura as their greatest liability and Prompto not completely recovered from his trials, Ignis wasn't certain they could escape this conflict completely unscathed unless Ardyn decided to show them mercy. His fingers tightened on the hilts of his daggers as he stared down the man that was blocking their exit.

Even should the unthinkably fortunate occur and Ardyn simply turn and waltz out of the room without another word, they couldn't leave this place. Noct was in the Crystal, and they needed to return to the hangar, which may still be filled with daemons, to retrieve the equipment for loading the Crystal onto . . . something. They still needed to locate a ship.

The situation was far too complex for him to contemplate while he stared down his enemy. There were far too many people to protect in this delicate scenario. Their only hope was to diffuse the situation without inciting violence.

"How touching," Ardyn simpered. "But it's unwise to make promises you may not be able to keep."

Ignis's attention flashed to the light reflecting off Gladio's sword as he brought it up and stepped forward. Too fast . . . this was all happening far too quickly for Ignis to devise a plan that would keep them all, including Noct, safe, and Gladio was forcing the scenario forward whether he liked it or not.

"Yeah, well, here's one promise I intend to keep!" Gladio boomed as his arms swept toward Ardyn's throat.

"Gladio, _no_!"

Laura darted away from Ignis's side, and his hand closed around air as he dismissed a blade and attempted to grab her arm and pull her back.

It was almost as though his failure had provoked time to move in slow motion. The long tendrils of her hair that always framed her face kicked up as she leapt between Ardyn and the blade and spun, her unprotected back facing their enemy as she raised a hand to the sword approaching her. Gladio's eyes widened, but his swing was already too far along. There wasn't a blessed thing in this world Gladio or Ignis could do to stop the shimmering mythril as it headed for Laura's neck.

An earsplitting shriek rent the air as a web of blue erupted from her outstretched hand, catching the keen edge of the blade with a high-pitched squeal of protest. With a cry of her own, Laura stumbled, falling back into the tentative embrace of the Chancellor as he, too, seemed to drop façade of strength he'd apparently been affecting and lurched a step toward the precipice behind them. Ardyn looked down, his mouth dropping open as Laura sagged against his chest, and he slid his hands around her bicep and stomach to keep her from falling.

"Don't—" Ignis began, more due to the visceral reaction of seeing _those_ hands yet again on the bare skin of Laura's arm. Astrals, it would only take a second for him to infect her again and . . . or even allow her to fall over the side of the platform. But what was he to say? Ardyn already knew of Ignis's weakness for her, already knew who and what she was. Nothing on this eos could convince Ardyn to display the same mercy she had just shown him—unless he chose to do so himself.

Ardyn continued to stare at the woman slumped in his arms, his golden eyes large and almost alarmed at finding himself in this position. "Oh, dear, now that our little Prince has gone, is the goddess finally showing her true nature?"

Laura straightened and yanked her arms out of his unprotesting grasp, but to Ignis's alarm, she kept her back to Ardyn as she stared Gladio down as though _he_ were the enemy, her hands raised and fingers spread wide as though attempting to calm a raging beast. "Mercy, Gladio. You must have mercy."

"There's no WAY you're actually standing between me and him right now after everything he's done!"

"Guys?" Prompto queried in a small voice, stepping forward and holding out a hand to lead Laura away from Ardyn, but she ignored the offer.

"Turning on the retinue! On your dear husband! A parallel Eos, indeed!" Ardyn crowed. He held a delicate hand over her shoulder, gesturing to indicate that she should take it. "It would seem I've no quarrel with you, after all. Come with me, my dear. We can rid the world of the curse of Eos and eradicate this despicable planet's animosity towards us for good."

Instead of answering or taking Ardyn's outstretched hand, Laura continued to stare up at Gladio, who seemed to be deciding between taking her advice or pushing her aside to make another try for their enemy. Ignis didn't need a telepathic connection to know that this wasn't a betrayal of any sort, rather, an attempt at the very stratagem he'd been aiming for. But as many of Laura's schemes tended to resolve themselves with severe consequences, or explosions of some sort, his mind continued to race as he created and discarded several scenarios for getting them all out of this safely. She was still too close; Ardyn could still infect her with the twitch of a hand.

"Gladio," Ignis said sharply, and when his whiskey-colored eyes met his, Ignis met the glare with his own threatening glower, shaking his head.

"Fuck!" Gladio roared, slamming his blade down into the grating at his feet with all his strength and frustration.

"Temper, temper," Ardyn taunted with a sly smile.

"Will you just go already?" Laura huffed as she _finally_ turned to face him. "We've got enough to deal with without your intervention."

"As you wish," Ardyn said, removing his hat with a flourish and bowing deeply at her. "Though you should reconsider my offer. Should the Dawn break once again, it would only bring the horrors of humanity to light. Really, my dear, you should all be thanking me. In the dark, you would all know peace."

"I'll send you a card later." She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "Please? Just this once. Go."

"Of course," he said smoothly, turning on his heel and throwing an elegant wave over his shoulder. "I'm certain we'll be seeing each other, but you know where to find me should you change your mind."

The four of them stood at the ready until the darkness swallowed the sashaying shadow whole. Doing his best to ignore the tidal wave of golden power emanating from the Crystal, Ignis reached out as far as he could with his senses to detect Ardyn's pool of scourge—as well as the malevolent immortality that was his aura. He couldn't feel an inkling of him, but he waited until Laura seemed to collapse on herself, her shoulders curling inward as she staggered back to sit on the low railing and hold her head in her hands.

"And just what the fuck was all that about?" Gladio demanded, the hoarseness of his voice amplified in the vast spherical room as it echoed painfully in Ignis's ears.

But Ignis ignored him as he rushed to Laura's side and crouched down to inspect her pallor, her breathlessness.

"Rose," he whispered.

"I'm sorry. I had to do some—"

"I know. It's all right. We're all alive." Summoning a bottle of water and idly wondering how it was possible he still had access to the main part of the armiger with Noct technically so close but so very far away, he twisted off the cap and thrust it into her trembling hands. "What else can I do?"

Laura looked up at the darkened Crystal over Ignis's shoulder, her eyes narrowing contemplatively. "We need to leave."

"We can't leave Noct here."

She shook her head. "He won't be coming back here. Remember what Shiva said? 'The King and the Frostbearer shall meet again—once the Chosen receives the revelation of the Bladekeeper at the Umbral Isle upon reflection.' Well, if Noct's prediction of this being his 'rebirth' is right, I think this is his reflection."

"So you think he's gonna appear at this Umbra place?" Prompto asked, crouching down next to Ignis in front of her. "Does it have to do with Umbra?"

"It's Angelgard," Ignis replied. "You believe he'll reappear at the Umbral Isle Angelgard."

"Hey!" Gladio barked.

"Why there though?" Prompto asked.

"Long has it been implied that the isle has connections to the higher realm, where the power of our star is centered. Legend says that the planet gave birth to the Crystal in that very spot." Ignis tilted his head in thought. "But given that we now know the Crystal is Eos's womb, that can't be true."

With a half-shrug, Laura said, "Could be where she showed up on this world. Could be where she gave birth to the Six. It doesn't really matter. He'll end up there, if Shiva is to be believed." As she placed her hands on either side of her and pushed herself to her feet, Ignis and Prompto stood, both grasping an elbow to steady her as she teetered for a moment. "And anyway, Ardyn will take care of the Crystal. He wants this to happen."

"You're making all these fucking assumptions!" Gladio spat. "Are we friends with this guy or something now?"

"Gladio—" Laura began, leaning into Ignis's side.

Gladio clenched his fists and stalked forward, his eyes full of fire. Ignis straightened threateningly as Gladio approached and stared down at her, but he merely hissed in her face. "One job. I had _one_ job from the day I was born. And _you_ got in the way of that."

"It's not as though you could have done any damage," Ignis pointed out, but his logical argument only seemed to incense Gladio further as his eyes grew more manic.

Gladio opened his mouth and sucked in a lungful of air, but Laura spoke first. "I bought us time. Time to get us out of here, and maybe a little goodwill to keep us alive for however long Noct will be away."

"Yeah . . . sorry," Prompto interrupted, stepping forward and raising a hand as though he were in class. "How long's that gonna be, exactly?"

"Time is fluid between us now. He may come out tomorrow having spent a hundred years in there, or he may come out a hundred years from now having spent a day in there. I have no way of knowing."

"And . . . we're gonna have to fend of Ardyn until then," he said in horror.

Ignis gazed up longingly at the accursed rock that had determined their destiny so long before they were born. Given the way events had transpired for Noct so far, he had a feeling he knew exactly when they would see Noct again.

"He isn't going to emerge until the day the vision comes true. Am I correct?"

She leaned more heavily against his side as he tightened his grip around her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I don't know."

He sighed and closed his eyes, blocking out the final vision of Noct's frightened face as he was dragged away from them. "I suppose, at the very least, he'll be safe where he is while we work out a way to save him. He always did have a knack for trouble when we allowed him free rein."

"Yeah, and in the meantime, your girl just showed our worst threat that she'll cave when push comes to shove," Gladio said menacingly, leaning forward in her face.

"Gladio!" he said, angling her away.

"So that's how it is? I'm 'his girl' now? After everything we've been through . . .."

"Please don't do this, you guys," Prompto said, stepping up to Gladio and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Gladio brought a finger up to point directly into her face. "You and me? We're done. I've had enough of the secrets. I trusted you with my life last night, with my king's life, and then you go and pull this shit."

"We'll handle this when things are settled," Ignis said with a glare, pulling Laura slightly further behind him. "Let's find some ships first, locate Biggs and Wedge, pick up the Regalia, and see if we can't locate these evacuation stations." With a nod to Prompto, Ignis turned with Laura toward the opening that would lead them from the sphere room, fighting back the wave of nausea he felt at the prospect of leaving Noct behind.

"And you!" Gladio bellowed at their retreating backs. "You're a fucking hypocrite, you know that? Can't stand a shred of ambiguity, but it defines the both of you."

They ignored Gladio's vitriol as they led the way up the catwalk to the sphere's exit. When Laura faltered several steps down the walkway, Ignis believed at first that it was because she'd finally lost her battle in remaining upright. He bent to scoop her in his arms, but she stopped him.

"Telepathy's mostly still out, but I can hear someone coming," she whispered.

Ignis tilted his head and closed his eyes, stretching out his senses as far as he could as he motioned to the other two behind him to be still.

Nothing at first, but then . . . footsteps echoing across the metal grating . . . a woman, judging by the length of the stride and the pitch of the heel clacking as it hit the floor. He didn't have to wonder long who it was or what threat she would pose to them in this vulnerable state because her voice rang out in the darkness.

"This what you guys call a stealth operation? I can hear you screaming at each other from the other end of the hall."

"Aranea," Ignis greeted cautiously.

"Great. Just what we need—another traitor to humanity," Gladio grumbled. "We don't got time to figure out what the hell to do with you right now, let alone how you managed to find us here."

"I'm here to rescue your sorry asses. You think Biggs and Wedge can't get a hold of me when they're in trouble? And where else would you be? I'm not stupid. Now come on. Got a bunch of survivors waiting outside in the shipyard."

Ignis exchanged a dubious look with Laura before they followed after her, leaving plenty of distance between them as she turned on her heel and strode confidently from the sphere.

"How many airships do you have? We may be able to pilot up to two more, and we'd like to pick up the Regalia just outside," Ignis called out toward the fluttering flash of bright white fabric in the dim lighting.

"And we need to stop by the Imperial Library, if you have one of those here," Laura added.

"I got plenty of airships—more than we have pilots for," Aranea said. "I can tell ya where the library is, but I don't have time to help ya check out any books. I've got work to do."

She slapped the button to the lift and leaned back into her hip, crossing her arms with a huff when the door didn't immediately open.

"You've got a lotta stuff to answer for," Prompto said quietly, and Ignis turned in surprise to see his brow furrowed as he frowned at Aranea. "Noct told me he didn't send you to look for me. How'd you know to look for me at that place?"

Aranea gave a one-shouldered shrug, pursing her lips together. "What can I say? I lied, kid. You looked like you needed the boost."

"Then what were you doing in a Magitek Production Facility when we'd just seen you in Tenebrae?" Laura asked.

The metal doors glided open with a cheery _ding_ that was beginning to wear on Ignis's nerves. The tension was palpable as the five of them stepped inside; Ignis could practically taste Rose's and Prompto's exhaustion, Gladio's anger, and Aranea's alertness on the air as the doors slid closed again and the lift hummed its way down the shaft.

"Back when I was a mercenary for the Empire, it was my job to gather daemons for weapons research."

"In places such as Steyliff," Ignis said.

She nodded. "My men were delivering them all kindsa places, and I got suspicious. Found out what they were doing and decided to take 'em out. Been shutting down all the clone farms since after Altissia."

"It's more than that though," Prompto said accusingly, still frowning over at her as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "I just realized—you can summon your weapons like we can." He turned to Ignis, raising a finger to point back at Aranea. "I saw her summon a lance but like, in red."

Ignis thought back to each of the times they'd fought with her, and now that he thought of it, he didn't recall where or how she stored that spear of hers when she used it. She certainly wasn't carrying anything at the moment, which was suspicious, considering how far into the Keep she had managed to infiltrate. But if Prompto's assessment was correct, that would mean she was bound and loyal to someone with Caelum powers.

There was only one of those left in the world now.

If the atmosphere was tense in the tiny room before, it was nothing compared to now as Ignis let his expression turn hard and stepped toward Aranea. Even Gladio had decided to cast aside his fury in favor of straightening to tower over the potential threat. Everything was still for a moment—Ignis's nerves stretched as tight as a piano wire—until the pressure in his head shifted and the doors opened with yet another cheerful _ding_ that he supposed he should grow used to, as many lifts as they would take to get to the bottom of this accursed building.

Aranea eyed the two of them warily. Slowly raising her hand in the air, she said, "Yeah, I can summon."

A flash of red light compelled Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto to summon their weapons as Aranea's stoss spear appeared in her hand, but she dismissed it immediately.

"That's not really magic," Laura said in a low voice, placing a hand on Ignis's elbow.

He narrowed his eyes down at the woman staring up at him with wide, earnest eyes, scrutinizing her, before he dismissed his daggers. Though Prompto immediately followed suit, Ignis noticed that Gladio's sword seemed to linger in his hand for a moment as he glowered before finally dismissing it.

Pushing past them with a scoff of disgust, Aranea continued escorting them toward the loading bay where the five of them had so recently fought together to take Ravus down, her head shifting left and right as she searched the area. Though Ignis trusted her self-preservational instincts, at the very least, he, too, kept his every sense trained on his surroundings—including Laura at his side and Gladio's and Prompto's steady breathing behind them.

"No, it's not magic. There weren't many people out there brave enough to try out the prototype, but hey, they paid me enough. And it turned out to be worth it in the end. Gotta love the air combat, but that spear's a pain in the ass to carry around. The program was still in the early phases when they shut it down in favor of trooper production."

"But if not from a Caelum, where does the power come from?" Ignis asked.

"Magitek. Didn't ask too many questions beyond making sure it wasn't gonna kill me. The power comes from a cube with this circular writing on it. Believe me, after learning about how the Power of Kings worked, I checked."

"May we see it?"

"Ha! You angling for a date, loverboy? I'm not handing over my weapon in a place like this."

"I think we have the gist of it anyway. Sounds like the Empire managed to reverse engineer ancient Solheimian technology. We already know Solheim played around with dimensional tech," Laura said. In a softer voice, she added to Ignis, "And really, it seems like a rudimentary version of what James made for me."

Though Laura's pocket universe had once literally been her pocket (bigger on the inside), she had eventually tied it to her bonds with the TARDIS and Eilendil, creating an access portal more similar to their own. This was merely more evidence that Solheim was a progenitor of the Time Lord civilization, in her opinion.

"Be cautious," Ignis warned as Aranea pressed the button to the cargo lift. "The last time we came through this way, the loading bay was crawling with daemons."

"There were a couple when I passed through just a bit ago, but nothing major," Aranea said with a smug smile. "If there're more, I'm sure we can handle 'em."

As they exited the lift and skirted warily around the edge of the empty loading bay, Ignis felt the golden thread in his head spark. Should they not encounter any more resistance on their way down, it would only be a matter of minutes before that nagging discomfort of their disconnection was resolved. With any luck, whatever moment that had transpired between Laura and Ardyn when she'd stepped in front of Gladio's sword would have earned them at least the slightest bit of respite, even if he did fear for what that twisted man had in store for the long road ahead.


	81. Chapter 81

**Author's Note:**

Warning: Brief mention of vomiting, mild violence, mild horror, and death.

* * *

Trina opened her heavy, gritty eyes, almost subconsciously reaching out for Ettie's thigh next to her own numb legs stretched out in front of her on the hard, industrial-carpeted floor. Blinking blearily down the aisle of beige metal shelving lined with boxes, she could just make out the dimmest of lights at the store's entrance. Thank Ifrit; they would be leaving this terrible place soon.

A soft, warm hand slid over hers as she gently squeezed Ettie's thigh. Soon. They would be safe by the time the sun set this afternoon.

Seeing that several of her fellow refugees huddled on the floor nearby had turned on their travel lights to pass the time reading or writing, she decided to do the same, pulling the newspaper out of the backpack in her lap and switching on the light clipped to her heavy, down-lined coat. Though part of her was expecting the sight, she couldn't help but flinch as the light fell on the fifty pairs of vacant, lifeless doll's eyes staring at her from the endcap of the aisle at her feet.

Perhaps turning on the light hadn't been such a good idea after all.

Suppressing the shiver already beginning to raise the hairs on the back of her neck—really, she was being ridiculous—she turned her attention to the folded paper in her hands.

 **Lestallum Times**

 **December 756**

 _ **Lestallum Mayor: Monarchy not dead. Changes for Lucian provisional government in store. (Page 2)**_

 _ **Cor Leonis calls off search for Prince Noctis citing divine intervention. Faith in gospel of True King growing shaky. (Page 2)**_

 _ **Niflian refugees claiming racism over supposed shoddy craftmanship of new Pegglar Outlook District. (Page 3)**_

 _ **Kenny Crow a Glaive? Speculations on the origins of this enigmatic warrior. (Page 6)**_

 **Phony Cosmogony: The Truth Brought to Light**

The people of Eos have relied on the Cosmogony's words for an accounting of the Six and the founding of Lucis for our basis of worship and the curriculum in our schools, but its mysterious origins (who was Nadir?) and the fact that it never once mentions the ancient kingdom of Solheim signifies that some heavy editing has been done to our history. Is what we know accurate?

The return of researchers from Niflheim two months ago has brought evidence that the Cosmogony may have been twisted even more than suspected. Deep in the annals of the fallen empire's library, documents were discovered that corroborate with findings in tombs around Eos, suggesting that Solheim had a greater hand in our current predicament than anyone could guess.

Decimated by the long war with Ifrit before the other Five joined mankind, the once worldwide kingdom of Solheim had been reduced nearly to extinction, existing as scattered pockets of agrarian communities across the globe that would eventually form the countries we know today.

Before the mages and scientists inexplicably disappeared, leaving the populace to regress to a primitive existence, they sought to end the war by creating several weapons capable of taking Ifrit down. The Starscourge was one of these weapons that got out of control.

That scourge, in addition to the power vacuums left in the wake of the war, brought humanity to the brink of extinction. The Cosmogony tells us that the other Five stepped in to save humanity and the planet, gifting the Founder King with the Ring that would channel the power of the Crystal his house protected. Together with the first Oracle, Somnus Lucis Caelum was somehow able to set the darkness that plagued our star dormant for nearly two millennia. But is that the true story? Given how heroic the Founder King and the Five appear in this tale, this reporter has doubts. ( _See page 2 for more.)_

 **Starscourge Sourced from Solheim**

Findings brought back from the recent research trip to the Western Continent have confirmed that not only was Niflheim using Solheimian artifacts extensively as inspiration for their Magitek creations of war, but also that that selfsame ancient kingdom created the scourge that plagues our skies and soil today. Dr. Sania Yeagre of the newly-formed Eosian Science Institution (ESI) has already discovered that a malarial plasmodium is the vehicle for the virus, which transforms humans and animals and emits the photophilic particles responsible for darkening our skies. But its origins suggest that it hails from a period of our history almost as dark—the War of the Astrals.

The research reports of Solheimian archaeological sites bring to light that Solheim intended to use the scourge on a seventh Astral as an experiment. Recent evidence found in ruins near Ravatogh suggests this experiment was to determine if it was possible to control the imprisoned goddess's powers and test the biological weapon to end the war against Ifrit. ( _For shocking proof of a seventh Astral, see page 6._ )

Dr. Yeagre's research team has thus far been unable to determine the components of this disease, but a new addition to the ESI from the Niflian research team may mean that answers are coming soon. "I look forward to working with Dr. Scientia," Dr. Yeagre says with a sparkle of hope in her eye, "but we've got a lot of problems to solve over here, and her skills are needed in several fields."

Anyone interested in joining the Eosian Science Institute can leave a message for Dr. Yeagre with Vyv Dorden at Meteor Publishing headquarters in Lestallum. Note that combat experience is preferred but not required.

 **MTs: They Are Us**

With Commodore Aranea Highwind's reports of MTs going rogue just before Gralea's fall, this reporter decided to sit down with the dragoon to find out more about the secrets behind those stony green masks.

"They used to be human, but they're daemons now," she states matter-of-factly. "Verstael Besithia extracted plasmodic miasma from infected lab-grown people and injected the daemonic soul into a Magitek core. The result is a deathless soldier; that's why it was called the 'Deathless Project' in the first place. You gotta destroy the core if you wanna kill the soldier."

Unfortunately, there is no core to destroy on the MTs' pure daemon counterparts. Rumors from Hunters and Glaives alike are spreading. Even with the minimization of daemon hunting due to new laws forbidding anyone from killing a daemon without a license or life-threatening circumstances, teams are having to repeatedly dispatch to emergency problem areas for similar daemons multiple times. "And the things are just getting harder to kill," says one Hunter, "like they remember us fighting them before."

This suggestion that daemons may be immortal with a set time for respawning is a frightening one, as the release of more daemonic miasma in the air only increases the darkness that plagues our land, killing our already dwindling crops. "Rations are already tight enough as it is," Dr. Sania Yeagre of the ESI states. "With the hours of daylight steadily decreasing and growing weaker, we may not be able to sustain ourselves after a year, even with the new farming techniques being implemented in Lestallum. And let's not even discuss what will happen if they overrun oil drilling operations in Leide."

With the sun's light growing ever weaker, our only hope for naturally killing off the blight dwindles. Sporadic sightings of daemons during daylight hours proves that it's only a matter of time before humanity will be plagued with former citizens at all hours of the day and night.

"And that's not all we have to worry about," Highwind adds. "Mass disappearances of human soldiers just before the fall of Gralea and the involvement of that creepy Chancellor can't mean anything good. We need to keep an eye out for whatever Chancellor Izunia is up to."

If anyone has any information regarding this disturbing development, please contact Vyv Dorden at Meteor Publishing headquarters in Lestallum.

Trina lowered the paper to her lap and let her head fall against the slatwall behind her, shifting silently in an effort to work out the throbbing spasm that had developed just to the left of her lower spine. Water must have somehow seeped into this carpet somewhere; she could feel the scent of the mildew tickling at her nose every time she inhaled. More than one person had been forced to stifle a sneeze this evening, which would have doomed them all to death. Between that and the frequent, terrifying trips to the employee restroom in back all night, it was a wonder the forty of them had made it this long without being detected.

She was beginning to think she and Ettie would have been better off evacuating on their own. Despite Ettie's involvement with the provisional government of Insomnia, they'd relied far too much on public services for keeping them alive in recent months, in her opinion. And this absurd declination of the number of news sources in recent weeks chafed at the researcher in her, made her long for the days when she could fact check several reports at once to determine what was truth and what was merely dramatization.

There was a time when she had received breaking news mere hours after it had happened—verified, sourced, and accurate—but with the seat of the provisional government relocated to Lestallum, Insomnia's press had shriveled into nonexistence as more of her contacts either moved away or disappeared, leaving her to scrounge off monthlies from the outlands that were already over a month old. Perhaps grabbing this newest paper as she was forced to leave her new home instead of bringing her life's research was a sign of how dire the times had become—though she supposed the news itself made that concept evident enough. What was going on in the world today was far more important than delving into a twenty-two-year-old assassination attempt on a now dead king.

But Trina was unfamiliar with these outlander publications and this Vyv Dorden, who seemed to be the media mogul behind all of them. She'd researched his main writer, a Dino Ghiranze of Galdin Quay, and the fact that he was listed first as a jeweler didn't exactly inspire much confidence in the paper's veracity.

Still, it was all she had now. With the King missing and the search called off by the Crownsguard Marshal, of all people, her hope was diminishing as quickly as the sun's light. But this newest edition of the paper contained several leads for her to follow up on if she survived this evacuation. Aranea Highwind was certainly a source of information on news from Gralea, but the person she was most interested in tracking down was this mysterious Dr. Scientia. That name couldn't be a coincidence, surely? She had been under the impression there were no other Scientias left in the world.

"Dunno why you bother reading that garbage," the man sitting cross-legged on her other side whispered, nodding down at the headlines across the top of the page. "My brother used to work in the Prince's apartment building—says he's nothin' more than a stupid kid. I don't care what Cor says. That idiot's not gonna save us, just like Regis didn't lift a finger to save us."

"Quiet!" their Glaive escort—she believed his name was Phine—whispered. "We got another ten minutes before the sun's strong enough. Get ready to move."

This time, it was Ettie's hand she felt on her thigh as she leaned back once again, closing her eyes to block out the eerie sight in front of her, but she still felt as though she was being intensely watched. She could see those dolls' vapid, empty smiles from behind her eyelids, and this time, she truly did shiver.

Of all the places their two escorts could have chosen for their group of refugees to hide as the sun sank below the horizon, this toy store at the end of a shopping mall abandoned the day of the Fall would have been the last on her list of choices. There had been too many of them to make it as far as officials had expected them to, with elderly and children among their group. Had they been quieter and more capable, they could have pressed onward through the night to meet the fleet of vehicles waiting for them outside the circle of destruction the Empire had slowly been clearing in rings out from the city's center—before they'd abandoned the people to fend for themselves. But a group of forty protected by two Glaives with the weak sun setting for the afternoon . . . even with her non-existent military experience, she knew that the most elite training didn't make up for the tactical nightmare they had found themselves in.

She stole a surreptitious glance of their guides, Phine and Signa—Signa asleep under his Glaive coat draped over his chest and Phine keeping lookout as he stared wearily down his own aisle toward the store's entrance. Both soldiers were so very young—practically her son's age, had he still been alive today. The deepest recesses of her heart, the parts of her grasping desperately for some sort of silver lining in this mess, were somewhat relieved not to have to see her son's beautiful features turn hard with war as she'd seen on so many youths these days. She preferred to remember him as she'd seen him in the backgrounds of photos in the paper—quietly serene and standing tall.

Their son was the only reason they had remained in Insomnia for so long after the fall—in the slimmest of hopes that they'd been wrong about his death and that he would come looking for them when his duties allowed. Honestly, they'd lingered far too long in the fading jewel of Lucis; she and Ettie were part of the last group to be evacuated after EXINERIS had lost the entire power grid to all of Lucis. Though they'd been promised that power was slowly being restored, Insomnia's distance from the life-sustaining meteor shards scattered around Duscae meant they would likely be the last region to see service again, especially considering the most recent news from the Glaives that they were attempting to set up new lines from Lestallum instead of trying to repair Insomnia's destroyed power plants.

It was probably for the best that they abandon the city, no matter how much it pained her to leave the home of her ancestors, of her fallen king. Though leaving felt like finally admitting defeat at the hands of the now absent Empire, they had to accept the fact that the increasing daemon population, the sheer square footage to protect, and the scarcity of food and supplies meant that Insomnia was no longer safe for anyone to inhabit any longer. Daylight hours weren't even an absolute guarantee of safety from attacks these last few days. Trina and Ettie both had had to test out their burgeoning self-defense skills twice in the last week alone when flans had oozed up from the ground as they returned from picking up their vital food rations.

"All right should be safe enough now," Phine murmured as he rose to his feet and lightly kicked at Signa's outstretched legs to wake him.

Signa stretched and yawned silently, careful not to disturb the haphazard, plaster-covered pile of potentially-yipping robotic puppies next to him. Standing to his full height, he ran his fingers over his half-shaved scalp and up into his pink, floppy mohawk. "Keep up and keep quiet, or you're gonna end up daemon food."

The rustle of fabric and nearly silent groans of so many people pushing themselves to their feet after so many hours on the damp and grimy carpeting sounded like an alarm in the close space. She could feel Ettie as he immediately rose to his feet and bent to assist her in standing while others sighed and grumbled their weariness after the long night spent in tense silence. She teetered for a moment as her numb legs took her weight and the pins and needles prickled from her hips to her toes. Once she was relatively confident she could remain standing, she looked up at Ettie to send him a silent 'thank you.'

Studying her husband's face, she could see his weariness manifested in the way his blue-grey eyes had grown dull, the pale skin underneath his lower lashes had sagged and darkened. Though she herself felt almost disconnected from her body after the night's unrest, she raised her eyebrows and frowned a little, questioningly. The corner of his lips twitched up ever so slightly—always putting on a brave face no matter how dire things seemed. Smoothing her hands down the lapels of his wool coat, she smiled back reassuringly before picking up her backpack and taking several stumbling steps forward, past a child's play kitchen and a life-sized, headless LEGO child.

Relatively young though they still were, they were both growing too old for this.

Her stride didn't fully recover until they had exited the little shop, but the vast, echoing communal space of the mall, covered in a shimmering sheen of filth and frost, made her shiver. She thrust her hands in her coat pocket as she carefully hastened around puddles of shattered glass from broken storefronts scattered across the dirty polished tile; underneath the frozen escalators blanketed in pieces of broken drywall and dust; and past the dark carousel of cartoonish chocobos frozen silently in mid-stride. The ghost of that gods-awful musak seemed to dance on the air and tickle at her ears despite the fact that this place likely hadn't seen electricity in months. Looking up to the broken skylights, she could see that the sun hadn't yet fully risen—not a good sign for them, but how far were they from the rendezvous? Would they have time in the five hours or so of daylight to reach it?

"Keep close to the Glaive," Ettie whispered so low that she almost couldn't hear him, but he touched her elbow and pulled her so that they would be positioned more closely to Phine. Everyone else had the same idea, of course, and Trina shook her head, her light brown hair swinging against her chin as she tried her best to communicate through her expression alone that if they all crowded him, he'd be able to defend no one. There were people less skilled in combat than the two of them in this group, and though her shortsword would do little against a red giant, she could likely handle a goblin—as long as there wasn't more than one.

Forty pairs of feet froze when a creaking groan sounded from behind them, reverberating over the cavernous halls and eerily resembling the sound a giant made as he ripped his way out of the ground.

Trina turned cautiously along with the rest of them in search of the sound, her hand going to the hilt on her thigh. Signa was the first to spot the source and pointed toward the store at the end of the mall. The bald head of a mannequin, half her face smashed in at some point during the invasion, was teetering precariously on her shattered neck as she posed proudly in front of a shot-up PJ Marshall's. Trina held her breath, praying to Ifrit's lost soul that it would settle without falling.

But Ifrit hadn't been answering her prayers for some time now.

The resounding clatter that rushed down the long passage of the mall as the head bounced off the mannequin's body and along the tiled floor may as well have been a military engagement for as loud and long as it was. At the whispering rush that surrounded them nearly immediately, Trina whirled to the nearest Glaive for instructions.

"Run!" Phine barked.

Crowded as they all were around the two greatest hopes for their survival, there wasn't much space to take a stride in any direction as she was elbowed and buffeted from all sides by screaming bodies. Panic seized her chest as she whipped her head around to look for Ettie, only to find a dark-haired stranger trying to shove her aside in an attempt to get closer to Phine.

"Ettie!" she screamed before she could stop herself. Everyone was screaming _something_ right now—nearly drowning out the sound of her voice in her own ears as she tried to jump up and down to spot his nearly white-blonde hair over the crowd.

She had just registered the flash of red muscle and flaming sword as a drawn-out moan thundered over the raised voices of the crowd pushing Trina toward the nearest exit, and she felt something smash against her spine, sending her sliding and sprawling against the grimy, freezing tile. She had only a moment to hope that Ettie was still all right when a second blow landed on the back of her head, plunging her into darkness.

* * *

"Hey. You alive? Wake up."

The throb pulsing at the back of her neck was shooting down her spine directly to her stomach, which was burning and rolling uncomfortably in her belly. She didn't want to open her eyes. The prospect of doing so, thinking at all, in fact, wasn't doing much to help her current physical state. A tight knot rose in her throat, threatening to choke her, and she threw herself to her side just as her meagre ration from the night before clawed its way up her esophagus and spilled onto the body of a young, dark-haired woman lying torn to shreds next to her, adding a facet of deep shame and horror to the already nightmarish experience.

"Probably got a concussion. Sorry, can't heal ya," a man's deep and rough voice said softly as she turned away from the body with a mental plea for forgiveness. "Never was good at magic. Can you stand?"

Keeping her eyes locked on the floor to keep it from spinning, she nodded, reaching for his outstretched hand hovering in her peripheral vision. When the world stopped whirling around her and she felt as though she could open her eyes without falling over, she turned in a circle and searched the ground frantically, half-hoping she would see Ettie's golden head poking up to look for her, half-hoping he had escaped with the others. She let out a breath when she didn't catch sight of him, but squinting into the dim and attempting to cast aside her grief at the sight of the seven dead bodies surrounding them, she wondered exactly how long she'd been unconscious.

Judging by how little she could see as she examined the area, daemoning hour was nearly upon them again.

Dark brown eyes and tanned skin leaned into her line of sight, searching her face. Phine—so her situation wasn't nearly as dire as she'd thought. "We gotta move. We can't stay here."

Fighting against the disconnect between her brain and her body, she trotted behind him past a fountain—silent and placid, still shining with copper-colored centes and gold crowns—filled with wishes that never came true. The sight didn't stop her from wishing for Ettie's safety as she held the straps of her bag more tightly to keep it from bouncing against her aching back.

"We got half an hour to make it as far as we can," he whispered as he held a hand out to stop her, peering around the shattered glass doors of the entrance they'd come through the day before. "You're gonna have to suck it up and follow, or you're gonna get us both killed. Got it, lady?"

Trina bristled at his remark, the heat rising in her cheeks as she attempted to bite back a rebuttal—as though it were her fault they were attacked! But she was exhausted, which, in her mind, was an excuse to grow somewhat lax in her usual courtesy.

Raising her chin in the air, she managed to say with barely a croak in her voice, "The correct form of address is either My Lady or Your Ladyship, thank you. And in case you haven't noticed, I _am_ 'sucking it up,' as you say, despite an injury and a missing husband."

"Just fucking great," Phine muttered. "Thought I remembered you having an accent. I'm stuck here with no backup and Insomnian nobility—pampered parasites, all of you."

Stepping out into the desolate street behind him, she hunched her shoulders against the chill of the wind whipping through the buildings and through her coat. Even for January, it was far too bitterly cold. Given everything else this cursed evacuation had endured, she supposed it was a small mercy that it wasn't snowing in addition to everything else.

She'd had hours yesterday to grow used to the creaking of half-blasted doors swinging on hinges and the dead rustling of paper and trash brushing and bouncing against the pavement. Still, that didn't mean she'd yet acquired the talent for looking away whenever she saw another full set of clothes—a three-piece suit and a bright blue tie across a bench at a bus shelter this time—lying fully assembled where its formerly-human occupant had surrendered to their malady.

"At least I'm not a traitor," she finally hissed once they'd passed through an intersection and turned south toward the road that would lead to the bridge and checkpoint out of the city.

He didn't pause as he led her past a once opulent Lucis Bank—its crumbling, carved marble columns still holding up bronze signs proclaiming them 'The Royal Bank of Grand Insomnia.' Trina averted her eyes from yet another message spray painted across the boarded-up door: 'Lucy and Gerard Reardon are alive in Old Lestallum. Mark—please meet us there if you made it. Astrals bless us all.'

"Wouldn't know," Phine grunted. "Don't remember a thing from that day."

So, he was one of _those_. Definitely a traitor then—there could be no other explanation for why so many of them seemed to turn up out of the blue one day all claiming to have lost their memories.

"The rampart's about three miles from here. Not gonna ask if you can make it, cause you're either gonna, or you're gonna die."

Now that they were on the main road, she knew their location better than he did, likely, as she and Ettie were two of the few citizens with free rein to leave and return to the city for their work—well, her work—Ettie's not nearly as often these days. Judging by recent conversations with the Glaives, she and Ettie came and went even more frequently than those who had spent most of their military careers on the other side of the Wall engaged in skirmishes with Niflheim throughout the kingdom.

She may have lost track of the time as banks and jewelry stores seemed to drop off into tattoo parlors, seedy bars, and Galahdian food stalls as they traveled lower and lower beneath the many layered streets of the city. Despite being born into a very old noble family, this section of Insomnia was well-familiar to her. On her way home from a research trip, she would often pass through this way to indulge in a few of the city's best semur skewers before making the long journey to the tree-lined streets of the Sorwester District on the outskirts near the southwestern border of the Wall.

Her mother would likely have been appalled to see what had become of her life—leaving the safety of the Wall, immersing herself in plebian culture, and even going so far as to marry a foreigner.

"Fuck," Phine cursed under his breath—likely at some stimulus her wandering mind hadn't picked up on. "This way."

Grabbing the sleeve of her coat, he pulled her under a covered porch crowded with worn and weary wooden tables and rickety, rusted stools. Stepping up next to the food stall window, which was lined with dried-grass cactuar figurines, cheery yellow bowls, and strings of rotted garlic, Phine cupped his hands and jerked his head toward the interior of the stall. Understanding, she silently placed her knee in his palms and allowed him to hoist her over the counter. She didn't wait for him to leap over, choosing instead to collapse against the rear corner of corrugated sheet metal and close her eyes. The thunk of his boots on the boarded floor made her jerk involuntarily, and she opened them again to watch him settle in the corner across from her in the small space.

As he folded his legs beneath him, he said quietly, "Don't fall asleep on me. You might not wake up again. Gotta wait till these salpinxes pass. Can't take on a group by myself, and I'm bettin' you're not worth as much as the blade you're carryin' when it comes to combat."

As much as she wished she could retort something scathing, he was technically right, so she settled for her famous withering glare as she clicked her teeth shut.

His response was a wry smile. "You don't like me, do you? Cushy little courtier living her life safe behind the Wall with those soft excuses for Crownsguard, making decisions for everyone while the rest of us have a choice: service to the King, service to the Hunters, or if you got a cunt, service to EXINERIS. Slavery all three ways, if you ask me, and we still lose our homes cause Regis wouldn't fight for us."

"King Regis founded the Glaive, gave you all a job, and lent you his power, and how do you repay him? My son and brother were in the Crownsguard," she did her best to snap while still whispering. "My boy was barely a man, and he died in _loyal_ service to his king, shortly after my brother died on the very same day _you_ all turned." Her voice lost all power by the last word as she attempted to hold in the tears that always seemed to come to her eyes every time she thought of him, of the both of them.

She never should have listened to Ettie about staying away for his safety and his career. Regret burned at her every memory of him, her beautiful baby boy. What would he have thought of them for abandoning him, were he still alive today? Had he worried for them during the Fall? Had he thought of them when he'd died? She didn't even have any pictures of him all grown up, save for what she'd clipped from the papers and tucked away in the little bag she had filled with the precious few items she could carry as they left.

Their little shack had fallen silent again, and she looked up to try and discern Phine's expression at her quiet outburst. But it had grown dark so very quickly, as it did every afternoon these days. The sun no longer set—merely seemed to grow weak and disappear behind a cloud, leaving her to wonder if it had died or if it would ever rise again. She could barely make out his proud profile sitting stiffly in the fleeting light, and she idly, painfully, wondered if her son had been betrayed by one of his own as this one had likely murdered a faithful Glaive or two.

His face snapped up to the window above him as the sound of footsteps grew closer, changing in pitch from high clicks against the concrete to low clunking against the wooden boards of the porch just outside. Placing a finger on his lips and getting to his feet to crouch low, he summoned a weapon to his hand—some sort of bow that looked like a gun, she believed. Ever so slowly, he stood and peered around the wall over the counter.

Trina couldn't even manage to scream as arcs of deep purple lightning formed a solid bridge of light between Phine's body and the unseen source outside, burning through his Glaive coat and charring a hole through his instantly blistered chest. The sheer force of the power flung his body against the rear wall of the shack with a deafening metallic clang before he slid down with a sickening scrape of flesh against the exposed nuts and bolts. She covered her mouth with both hands as he came to rest, slumping against the wall he'd only just left a few seconds ago.

Scurrying to press herself against the front wall of the shack beneath the window, her frantic, fuzzy head scrabbled for any sort of plan, but she was never any good at this sort of thing. While she was quietly falling apart here in this skewer shack and at a loss at how to live through this, Ettie was likely calmly and rationally working on a plan for her extraction—probably silently urging her to remain calm despite her situation. She'd always hated and loved that about him.

Urging her shaking knees to bear her weight as she stood, Trina shrank further into the corner and fumbled for the hilt of her shortsword. The shuffling of whatever daemon had killed Phine was growing closer, sounding more like multiple, large people flinging aside the patio furniture. Even if by some miracle she was able to slay the thing that had killed a Glaive in his prime, the racket it was making was sure to draw enough to this location to finish her off before the sun rose again in another eighteen to twenty hours.

If she was going to die anyway, she may as well do it in a blaze, looking death in the eye with her own blistering malachite fire. Taking one last lungful of air, she readied her blade and prepared herself to meet her fate.

"Oi!" a girl's voice shouted over the ringing of what sounded like a metal stool being slapped into the rail. "You in the shack; hang tight in there, yeah? I'll be with you in a moment." Something hit the other side of wall Trina was leaning against, vibrating hard against her back and threatening to rattle the metal right off its frame. After a second, the stranger's voice came again. "Ohhh kay, make that a couple of minutes. But get ready to run!"

Trina was able to wait patiently for nearly a minute—resting her pounding head against the wall and calming her racing heart as the crashing grew a little further away from her hiding place—before self-preservation surrendered to curiosity. Casting a wary side-eye at Phine's still-smoking body, she was careful not to poke her head more than a few inches around the window frame to try and catch a glimpse at the source of her thwarted demise and savior.

She spotted the three salpinxes first, their skinny little legs pumping frantically to catch up to a spider-type daemon—an ariadne, if she recalled her studies correctly, capable sending out branches of forked lightning that could obviously stop a man's heart instantly. The ariadne's ice-blue bouffant seemed to shimmer in an aura of light that exuded from her humanoid crystalline body as she crouched down on all eight legs and leapt almost three meters in the air toward a single, solitary human figure—a girl, Trina thought. It was difficult to tell in this gloom.

A burst of fire from the girl's hands lit up the scene just long enough for Trina to discern her figure and come to several conclusions. She was a Glaive—a mage, judging by her uniform—and a damned powerful one, judging by how forcefully the ariadne was slammed against the door of an adult comic book store several meters behind her. The girl was . . . gods, so young—absurdly so.

Had Trina not been familiar with the Royal Family, she would have thought King Regis had had a secret daughter with Queen Aulea just before she died. She was stunning with that royal coloring and complexion—a warrior princess that danced with the four daemons as seemingly effortlessly as ballerina at the Royal Ballet. She moved at the speed of the bright white light that poured from her hands and through her gleaming blades—spinning, twisting, and circling as those ornate, sparkling swords spiraled in graceful, flashing slashes. She almost seemed to fly as she leapt into the air to avoid a terrifying arc of fatal lightning as it licked its way toward her.

As frivolous arts such as ballet no longer existed in a post-apocalyptic world, Trina supposed it was entirely possible that the girl actually had been a potential ballet prodigy at one point before being forced to take up a sword to stay alive. But the way she handled her weapons as extensions of her hands indicated long and hard years dedicated to intensive study.

To Trina's surprise, the ariadne was the first to fall, crumpling like a puppet with her strings cut as the girl jumped lightly onto the spider's back and swiped a sword cleanly through her neck, beheading her. Trina caught the flash of the ariadne's green and gold skirt fluttering to the ground before the Queen Spider's body disappeared in a pool of miasma. The demise of the salpinxes seemed a simple matter after that, falling quickly and easily after several flashes of fire and deadly pirouettes.

Trina found herself growing more and more angry as she watched with reluctant awe, that flush of heat rising in her cheeks as she attempted to bite down the emotion. Where had this superhuman creature been this entire time as they'd suffered through the invasion, the occupation, the daemon attacks, the death of the Oracle, and the disappearance of the King? Where was she when her brother and son had been murdered?

When the last daemon had melted into the wooden boards at her feet, the girl shoved her blades sharply into thin air with a flash of silver light and a whoosh of breathy air. The girl's shadow looked up suddenly in Trina's direction before she lunged across the counter without a word, grabbing Trina's limp, freezing hand in her comfortably warm one.

"Run!" she whispered fiercely.

If Trina wasn't mistaken, she thought she could detect a manic sort of elation in her voice, as though the girl were inexplicably overjoyed to simply be alive.

Silently thanking whichever of the Six had come to her rescue, Trina did her best to shove aside her pain and heartache, revel in the fact that she was still alive to find Ettie, and run hand-in-hand with this child that had appeared from nowhere.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Many of the details and lore were taken from Comrades and Talcott's speech in the main game, but just as with everything else, I may have deviated more than a bit here and there from canon. My thanks to Mouse Marple from the reddit Discord for her assistance with the imagery on this chapter!


	82. Chapter 82

Trina had attempted to ignore the pounding in her head, choosing to instead concentrate on attenuating the pounding of her feet on the hard asphalt—both for her brain's sake and for the sake of not attracting yet another horde as she and the strange girl raced through the dark city streets. But it seemed as though once she had turned forty and beyond, she'd lost the ability to perform such feats as sleeping upright on a hard floor, receiving a sharp blow to the head, and running for her life within the span of a few hours. She stumbled on a stretch of what she assumed to be perfectly even asphalt, unable to see as far as her toes in the dark.

The girl halted the instant Trina's weight dragged against her arm, and she turned to wedge another arm beneath Trina's to hold her upright.

"You're dead on your feet. You're not going to make it, are you?" the girl said easily, as though they hadn't been sprinting flat-out for the last three blocks. "Sorry. I've been hanging out with this group of twenty-year-olds, and I forget sometimes."

She must not have required a response, which was fortunate for Trina, because the only word she could manage between her gasping breaths was a most indecorous "Umm."

The girl ducked under Trina's arm, fully supporting her weight as she replied in that accent that so clearly identified her as high nobility, "All right, let's find a safe place to get you settled for the night, yeah?"

Growing lightheaded, the only response Trina could give was a nod, which she hoped the girl could somehow perceive in the dark. She seemed to have understood, as she stepped off the main road immediately, nearly carrying Trina along at a brisk walk down a narrow side street that, if her memory served her correctly, served as the border between Galahdian Town and Southie territory.

Of course, even the Southies weren't immune to the scourge. This ancient biological weapon of war distinguished not between friend and foe, and now even the most perilous sections of Insomnia were rendered silent and docile . . . as long as they didn't awaken the daemons that had taken up residence there instead.

Trina stumbled awkwardly along next to the girl as the high buildings blocked out what little ambient light the sky provided, plunging them into darkness. Though she longed more than anything to be able to turn on the travel lamp on her chest, reports were only just recently coming in to suggest that traveling in the dark, if possible, was best for avoiding detection. But the girl's step didn't falter for a moment as they continued to scurry along, and Trina idly wondered how such a young woman so clearly highborn could be familiar enough with this place as to not need to see where she was going.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her in what she assumed to be the middle of the street, and as they turned together, Trina was just about to demand what they were doing when she flinched at the sudden flash of silver light and a whispered word she'd never heard before.

"Ráva."

The brief second of illumination allowed Trina a glimpse of her dark-haired rescuer up close, her face lit up from her magic as she stared down with her hand outstretched toward a door handle. The light faded, bleaching out Trina's optical senses and leaving her even more blinded than she had been before, but she could still hear the rusty creak of hinges as the girl swung the door open. She felt a hand on her shoulder pushing her forward before tightening to keep her still.

"You're standing at the top of a set of stairs that leads down to the basement. We can turn a light on as soon as we shut the door," she whispered. "Take a couple steps down."

Trina blindly obeyed, edging her feet forward until the curl of her toes indicated the end of the step. When she heard the gentle thunk of the door closing behind her, she allowed herself a brief moment of panic to breathe against the air, which had instantly grown still, thick, and stale in this impenetrable black space.

The second was over, however, as another rush of breathy wind illuminated her from behind, and she turned to look up into the eyes of a child that couldn't have been any older than her son would have been, possibly younger. The dim, blue-white orb she held in her hands pulsed ever so slightly with the girl's breath, as though her life force were powering the illumination.

The combination of her appearance, accent, and that Glaive uniform was perplexing, though. Trina had never heard of a noble family pledging their child in service to the Kingsglaive. Though it wasn't unheard of for an Insomnian commoner to display the ability to wield the full force of the King's magic and join the war against Niflheim, nobles tended to prefer to pledge their children to the Crownsguard and keep them behind the safety of the Wall—or in some other service to the King, as she and Ettie had done.

"I—I, must thank you for coming to my rescue. Had you not arrived, I would have been dead for certain by dawn," Trina stammered as she studied the girl's oddly calm expression. "What's your name, dear?"

"My name's Laura. And you?"

She hesitated for a moment, surprised by the girl's commoner name and informal introduction. Surely that accent and that coloring couldn't be steering her logic false? But she herself had taken to using a nickname that sounded more common than it was. Deciding it would be most courteous to respond in kind, she refrained from using her full name and title so as not to appear arrogant in the face of the girl's kindness.

"My name is Trina."

"Pleased to meet you, Trina. We should be safe in here for the evening." She gestured for her to continue down the stairs. "Why don't we see what we have to work with and how much I'll have to pull out to make this space comfortable for the evening?"

Dread cascaded over her head down to her feet, and she could feel the color draining from her face at the prospect of remaining here all evening when Ettie was out there somewhere, possibly in danger.

"We have to go back out soon," she exhaled in a rush, but she obeyed the girl's flapping hands and turned to step down the narrow wooden staircase. "I was with a group . . . my husband was with them. I must find him."

"We know. My husband and Cor are out searching for them. I was helping, but I think I was able to pass on enough information for them to be found soon."

"The Marshal was brought in for this operation?" Trina breathed in relief as her step faltered. Without thinking, she added, "Astrals, you're too young to have a husband; you're too young for any of this."

"Lucis has some strange ideas about what's expected of its children, so the news shouldn't be too surprising."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed. "Doubtless you've been out of the city with the Glaive enough to know that that isn't the case elsewhere."

Despite what that poor dead Glaive had thought of her, Trina had grown up in Insomnia's middle class—lower nobility. Despised by high nobility and believed to be privileged and useless by the common, there was no safe place for Trina to turn to other than those of equal status. Like many of their kind, Trina's parents had raised her with high expectations, determined to throw off their undeserved reputation and prove that their child could compete with the superior education and training of any of the old houses. She'd also had the added burden of being the only daughter from a long line of royal retainers, and as with her brother, her profession had been chosen for her since as long as she could remember.

Trina had brought pride to her humble yet ancient house, becoming a historian for King Mors at the tender age of fifteen and taking on more responsibilities as tenuous relations with Niflheim crumbled and King Regis took the throne. It was the way of life in Insomnia—one she'd never questioned until she'd had to leave on assignment and had seen how differently children were treated in countries like Tenebrae. Even Ettie—talented, dedicated, and hardworking though he was—was often baffled by her lack of what he considered a true childhood. Apparently, pressures hadn't been applied to him until she had already taken her lifelong position with His Majesty, and even then, Ettie had had the freedom to choose his destiny to a certain degree.

Still, she'd never wanted to rebel against the practice until the time had come to put her own son up for service.

The light from behind Trina brightened as she stepped off the stairs and warily searched the cramped space. It appeared to be the sort of storage area that doubled as a break room for employees upstairs. Stacks of unlabeled boxes were piled almost to the ceiling, nearly obscuring the flaking red paint on the concrete walls. The exposed dark beams of the ceiling made the already small space seem oppressive, yet the sight of the ratty, brown couch pushed up underneath the stairs was the most welcome thing Trina had seen all day.

Laura angled herself around Trina's frozen form, placing the orb on a wooden crate serving as a makeshift coffee table in front of the sofa before striding to the far corner of the room. She opened a split and peeling wooden door and poked her head inside.

"There's a bathroom here," she said, her voice muffled by the thin walls. "I doubt there's running water, but I can give you some from my stores. Why don't you take a moment and freshen up, and then we'll see about that head injury?"

Trina touched her hand lightly to the back of her head, where she could feel the dried, caked blood making her hair stiff and crunchy each time she turned her neck. The injury must have appeared more gruesome than she'd thought, if Laura had spotted it as they were going downstairs.

She couldn't see how Laura planned on healing her, but still she said on a sigh, "That sounds heavenly."

Once Laura had summoned a jug of water, Trina entered the tiny room, just large enough for a toilet and a sink. She left the door open a crack to allow just enough light in to see by, taking her time to remove her coat, rinse herself free of the stench of this terrible day, do her best to clean her hair and wound at the back of her head, and take care of her other needs.

When she emerged feeling more human but still somewhat dazed and absolutely exhausted, she found Laura perched on the edge of the couch, waiting for her.

"I don't believe a healcast would work on me, dear," she said gently as she collapsed into the corner of the damp cushions, grimacing a little at the chill that seeped through her wool traveling trousers and long underwear. The moldy scent of the brown tartan fabric that made her want to sneeze instantly brought her back to that toy store, before everything had gone so very wrong. "It's been far too long since I was injured."

"You've probably noticed my magic works a bit differently from the other Glaives you've seen, and really, you need that looked at as soon as possible." Reaching out toward her head with a hand, she asked, "May I?"

Trina nodded, and the girl placed four fingers at the back of her neck and closed her eyes. Perplexed at this foreign approach to magical medicine, she said, "I'm only somewhat familiar with the King's magic, but not of your sort. I've only just recently begun to learn of how magic works since the Fall. Are you a special rank of mage?"

"It's complicated," she answered without opening her eyes. "You have a minor concussion, but I can heal it. It'll take a complex bit of magic, though. May I?"

"Please, if it isn't too much trouble."

Laura didn't remove her fingers from the back of her neck as she opened her eyes. "All right, but fair warning, there will likely be a flash of pain. My magic . . . tends to hurt, but only for a moment."

The warning surprised her a little. She'd never been healed by a Glaive personally, but she'd never received the impression from any she'd known that the process was in any way uncomfortable. Still, it would hardly be logical to allow a potentially life-threatening injury to fester in times such as these.

"I think I can stand a moment of discomfort."

Without another word, Laura closer her eyes and cupped Trina's head in both her hands, her fingers spreading over Trina's temples and behind her ears. Curious to witness this . . . whatever this was, Trina kept her eyes open as the girl opened her mouth and began to sing. The lilting melody that emitted from her throat was unexpected in its high, clear tones—soft enough that not a soul beyond this basement would hear even a whisper of it.

Trina wasn't so distracted by the sound as not to notice the buildup of that silver light she'd seen emanating from the girl's fingers so many times already that evening, but she had to close her eyes at the knives stabbing through her head where every finger made contact with her skin. She snapped her jaw shut, willing herself not to jerk away from the pain as the blades turned to liquid acid spreading over her skull and burned a path to the back of her head.

As suddenly as it had begun, the agony ceased—as everything grew still and silent again.

Deciding after a moment that she hadn't, in fact, died, Trina stretched her neck experimentally against Laura's gentle grip, tilting her head in all directions.

"Thank you," she said, somewhat surprised at the complete lack of pain or nausea that had been plaguing her since she last woke.

She opened her eyes to meet Laura's kind gaze—suddenly so much older than her face. A dancer, a blade expert, a mage, and a singer? Insomnia may have expected much of its children at all levels of society, but this girl was beyond prodigious.

 _What are you? Where have you been all this time?!_ she wanted to shout as the wave of anger she'd felt back at the skewer stand washed over her again, but before she had the time to talk herself into overriding her filter and demanding answers, the girl pulled away and answered in a low, strained voice.

"My pleasure."

Trina didn't need a moment to tear through her filter of propriety when her eyes caught sight of the glittering flash on Laura's left hand as it lowered to her lap. Her anger transformed to seething fury as she snatched the girl's fingers and brought them closer to her face to examine the fourth finger more closely in the low light.

Despite not having seen the ring for three years now, she'd recognize it anywhere after having spent nearly forty years seeing it on her mother's hand before she'd passed.

Ignoring her manners and the fact that she owed the girl _some_ benefit of the doubt for saving her life, she loosed her fury in a dark snarl.

"Where did you get this?!"

She never expected to see those familiar swirls of mythril again after she'd sent it to her son the day he'd received his dukedom. Astrals, she couldn't remember a day she had ever been prouder—the first in their family in thousands of years to reach such heights. He'd sent her the loveliest letter in gratitude before disappearing two years later.

She'd feared the worst when the Prince had been pronounced dead on the day of the Fall, for where else would her son have been but by Prince Noctis's side? But the occasional whisper from Glaives that the Prince was wandering Lucis with a retinue had given her and Ettie hope. And then Prince Noctis _had_ been confirmed alive . . . in Altissia. Every report Trina had managed to wring from her contacts had all said the same thing—that Lady Lunafreya and a member of the Prince's retinue had died on the altar from unknown causes. The single article she'd been given of the entire incident only covered Prince Noctis's efforts to rebuild after the destruction—featuring a photo of the Prince, his friend, and his Shield. The only sliver of hope that had remained after that was the slim chance that Trina may have been able to speak to those returning from Niflheim, who may have seen the Prince just before he disappeared and who may have known who had been left alive in his retinue at the time.

Laura stared at her in bewilderment for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she studied her. "It's a wedding ring. I got it from my husband."

"Yes, I realize that; I'm not a simpleton," Trina retorted. Had this girl's husband killed her son on the altar and taken the ring? It was possible that both she and her husband were traitors to the Crown just as Phine had likely been. "Where did he get it?"

Laura tilted her head, her eyes narrowing further. "Trina . . . your name is Trina," she said slowly, her lips spreading into a slow smile that grew wider with each passing second.

"What of it?"

"As in Ustrina. Ustrina Scientia. Bloody hell, I didn't make the connection!" She leaned forward suddenly, grasping both Trina's hands in her own. "You're his mother, aren't you? We've been looking for you."

"Y—You know my s—son? Please, I beg of you, tell me everything. Leave nothing out."

"Oh, _stars_ , do I ever know your son!" she laughed joyously, but her expression dropped almost instantly. "Wait. You said Venetus was with the group?"

Trina nodded. "Yes, did you hear any news of them while I was freshening up?"

"Cor's found eighteen of them. I'll send Ignis to meet him and check to see if Venetus is among them."

 _Eighteen_ of them left—meaning they'd lost an additional thirteen since their flight from the mall. What if . . . no. Ettie was among them. He simply _had_ to be.

But her breath squeezed out of her lungs painfully at the sound of her son's name. "Ignis, my little boy—so you truly are married to my son? He's alive?"

"Oh yes, he is alive and well and I am so very proud to call that fine man my husband. We actually came here looking for you and a friend's parents before we handled some other missions closer to the city center. Stopped by your place in Sorwester, but it looked as though it'd been abandoned since the Fall."

"We moved closer to the city's center when services started shutting down," she said dismissively, waving the question away with a hand before continuing with what she really wanted to know. "Tell me about him."

Laura pulled back and summoned a red container and a set of chopsticks to her hands. "How about I talk while you eat?"

Trina studied the girl, her . . . daughter-in-law, and the container carefully. Having spent the majority of her life on the outskirts and therefore not around magic, she'd only witnessed the power of the Glaives since the Fall—far more versatile than that of the Crownsguard, from what she'd heard, but she'd never seen one demonstrate the ability to summon anything more than weapons from thin air before.

Carefully taking the container from Laura's hands, she lifted the lid, releasing a puff of meaty steam Trina recognized immediately as one of her favorites—Royal City downtown's xiaolongbao, steamed rice, and vegetables. It was hardly a practical meal to eat while on the run in the middle of an apocalypse, but it was heavy enough to fill her aching stomach yet light enough to allow her to run afterward if she needed to.

Balancing the desire to maintain her manners while inhaling her food and not immediately blurt out the million questions buzzing through her head, she answered, "Tell me about him. What sort of man is he?"

Laura let her eyes drift to her lap as a tender, bashful sort of smile crossed her lips. "He's the best man—a genius, a strategist, an explorer, a fighter, and an artist at everything he does. He has a wit as sharp as any blade and a heart that loves so fiercely that you can't help but love him back just as much. He's beautiful—inside and out—sarcastic and self-assured, but also quietly passionate, considerate, and so very warm." Dropping her head even further so that Trina lost sight of her expression, she said, "Honestly, I could go on for ages. Don't get me started."

Trina couldn't hear enough about the man her boy had become, but there was a question burning in her throat that she needed to hear the answer to most of all. "He doesn't . . . hate us, does he?"

"Never," she breathed immediately, her head shooting up to meet her eyes again. "I'm not sure Ignis is even capable of true hate."

Trina looked down at the box in her hands, toying idly with the vegetables and rice before finally pinching one of the little soup-filled pouches in her chopsticks. She took a moment to grapple with her conflicting joy and heartache before somewhat awkwardly maneuvering it to her lips. The hot, spicy broth exploded in her mouth, the somewhat exotic flavors blossoming over her palate.

She sighed in relief once she'd swallowed, eager to concentrate more on her meal now that her stomach was gnawing itself in its demand for more. "These are even better than the ones downtown," she muttered.

"Ignis enjoys making them when he has a puzzle to figure out and wants to keep his hands busy."

Her little boy had made . . .? "Please understand," she blurted out, choosing to stare down at the perfectly even folds in the dough instead of directly in Laura's eyes. "It's not that we didn't love him. We knew at his naming that he'd be a special boy, but we couldn't refuse when the King asked for him. He'd become a duke! We thought he would have a better life in the Citadel with Caeli than being dragged all over Eos between the two of us traveling."

Taking another bite of the meal cooked by her own son's hands in silence, she waited for the information to sink in before she added softly, "We weren't to know that we had just signed our boy's fate to the future King of Light, but it wouldn't have made any difference. We didn't have a choice, really. What do you do when the King asks for your child?"

She finally summoned the courage to look up. The expression that had crossed Laura's face had become incongruent with the youth of her features again—kind, old, and almost motherly as she replied gently, "I won't lie to you and say that his life was always easy, but he'll be the first to tell you when you see him that he has no regrets. The King sleeps safely in the Crystal as a direct result of a thousand of your son's actions."

"And what about now? Is he happy?"

"Wellll . . . I'm his wife, so I would certainly like to think he's as happy as he can be in these trying times. But I'll let him tell you for himself when you see him."

As she worked on finishing her meal, a foreign sort of frenetic nervousness bubbled in her chest at the prospect of seeing him for the first time since he was a toddler. With the darkness overtaking their world and everyone she knew losing loved ones by the day, there was nothing more important than reconnecting and banding together as a family before it was too late. And she'd not only rediscovered her son on this terrible night, the young woman sitting in front of her was her daughter-in-law . . . wife of the Duke of . . ..

"Oh! Forgive me, Your Grace," she breathed as the Duchess reached out to take the empty container from her hands. "I just realized . . .."

Her expression tightened into a sharp frown. "The title thing runs in the family, I see. Laura, if you please. Only ever just Laura, and I would ask that you not refer to Ignis by his title when you see him, as well."

Well, now, that was certainly a queer reaction. Even in a post-apocalyptic world, most girls her age would be pulling out that title any chance they got in order to establish dominance over a lowly dame such as herself. Trina rarely pulled out her title because it was so common in the city, but 'Duchess' was one of the rarer titles in the kingdom, second only to the titles of the royal family. Had it been safe to relocate to Tenebrae, she could have been considered a Baroness—still several steps down from the noblewoman sitting in front of her wearing a Glaive uniform, of all things.

"That accent and that royal coloring of yours certainly befits the title of Duchess, but I'm curious to know what your maiden name was, my dear."

"Nothing you'd recognize, I'm afraid," she said with a frown, "Laurelín Tildari Haránathat Ni'annen."

Audacious youths these days—now here was a subtler form of arrogance she could understand. It must have been a trend now to take on additional names in the style of the tri-named royal families of Eos, but it was silly to attempt to do so. There were only four royally named houses in the world, two of whose royalty titles changed with the name of the child's father—the Fleurets and the Aldercapts—and two whose royalty names never changed—the Lucis Caelums and Stupeo Scientias.

She'd intended to inform her son of that information after the treaty signing, when it would be safer for him to stand out a little more, even if his royalty status was no longer applicable. But then, the war had happened instead.

"And are you titled in your own right? Are you this Dr. Scientia mentioned in the paper as well?" she asked, somewhat suspiciously now.

Bakers and lawyers didn't carry the weight of so many names, and neither would a highborn girl raised in the Citadel presume herself royalty. And a doctor, as well? Just how many specializations did this child carry, and how many were real?

"Ugh, I _told_ Sania not to mention my name in that interview, and I told Vyv not to print it." She leaned back into the couch, letting out a weary sigh. "Oh yes, I'm about as titled as I can get," she chuckled. "Titled out to the point where I could waltz down the street and start chucking them at people as though I were in a parade. Does it matter?"

"Forgive me. No, it doesn't, really," she replied softly, because really, it didn't matter. Ignis had already chosen his bride. "I'm merely curious to learn more about the young woman my son chose. And I'm certain you're well aware that your title and origin dictate everything about your life—how you are to treat others, how you are treated."

Laura closed her eyes and said in a low, dark tone, "Yes, I know." But she seemed to shake her head as though in response to something Trina hadn't said before looking back up at her. "Get some sleep while I keep watch." She scooted to the floor and crossed her legs, gesturing for Trina to rest her head against the mildewed cushion. Once she had somewhat reluctantly settled, the heavy weight of her exhaustion threatening to pull her under immediately, Laura asked, "Would you prefer the light on or off?"

"On, please," she whispered. "Will you be all right staying up?" she asked, noting her drooping eyelids.

Laura summoned one of the most hideous blankets Trina had ever laid eyes on and draped it over her, the soft, lightweight fibers seeming to warm her the moment it had settled. "It's just been a trying few days. I'll be fine . . . and so will Venetus," she said confidently, and Trina's eyes darted to Laura's ears, covered by her hair pulled loosely back with a clip. Had she heard news when she'd shaken her head, or just now?

Relief flared in Trina's chest as Laura confirmed, "Ignis is sending him and the rest of the group on to Lestallum. You can get a ride to the city tomorrow with Cor to join them."

She collapsed deeper into the couch, closing her eyes and letting the exhaustion that had been threatening to overtake her since this morning wash over her body. "Thank Ifrit," she mumbled.

* * *

Trina didn't know the man standing in the middle of the dark, abandoned road, but she'd recognize that long silhouette and that sharp jawline anywhere.

"Ignis!" she cried out, not caring in the slightest that this man didn't know her at all. She flung herself against him, wrapping her arms around his surprisingly muscular frame and squeezing him tightly, swearing to herself that she would never stay away from him again. She felt his body stiffen beneath her arms, but she could feel the soft, awkward pats of his hand on her shoulder. Astrals, was she ever familiar with that reticence and rigid formality. Ettie had been precisely like that with her until he was suddenly head-over-heels and moon-eyed in love. She wondered if it had been the same sort of courtship for Ignis and Laura, with the two of them falling for each other hard, fast, and completely—once she'd managed to crack that exterior of his.

"Mother?" he asked politely in a rich, accented baritone that reminded her so much of Ettie that it hurt. A stronger accent than hers, stronger than even the King's, the stubborn boy, probably insistent that he adhere to the ancient royal dialect just as Ettie had. At least he hadn't been influenced by the Prince's inclination to adopt the more common speech of the people, but she supposed the Prince's public education and the Shield's rather varied sources for combat training had had more than a small hand in influencing their speech.

She pulled back, reaching up to cup his jaw in both her hands as she studied him. Those intense emerald eyes and honey colored hair were all hers and Caeli's, but the sharp angles of his face and those aristocratic features that Ettie had inherited from the Fleuret side of his family had bred true. Astrals, as much as she had wished she could have gone to see him as he grew up, Ettie had been right: _someone_ surely would have guessed his heritage eventually had they made the connection with the man she'd married.

That he'd managed to blend in with Caeli so well that no one ever questioned where he'd come from was a miracle in and of itself, as gifted as he'd always been. But Caeli had been the younger sibling, the one not named and blessed by Ifrit as she had been. Their blessing was the only card her ostracized family had to play these days, but Ifrit's reputation and the general lack of public knowledge regarding their family meant that Ignis's origin was safely hidden from any who would seek to use him against the two monarchies to which he was connected.

"My beautiful boy has grown into such a handsome young man," she said, smiling up at him and stepping away. "And married to such a lovely young woman!" Imagining his emerald eyes on a little boy with jet black hair, she gushed, "Your children will be stunning!"

"Err, yes," he stammered, his attention darting over a pile of Magitek soldiers lying broken at the base of an apartment building before looking over to the Marshal, who was leaning against a rickety lemon-colored truck with his arms crossed. "We can catch up later, but Laura and I must be going. The Marshal will escort you to our home in Lestallum. I've given the key to Fa—. . . Ambassador Étoile. We've only just moved in, but please—make yourselves at home."

"But where will you be?" she asked, wanting to reach for his hand to stop him leaving, but honestly, she was being ridiculous. Still, they'd only just reunited. It sounded as though he and Ettie had had a chance to speak—and that Ettie had already told him some things.

"We've business in the city—several errands to run," he said, stepping back to Laura's side. "We should return in a few days."

"Be careful, please."

"We shall," Ignis said. "And do take care as well. We'll join you shortly, but in the meantime, should you require anything at all, tell the vendors in Partellum Market to charge anything you wish to Laura's account. I've requested that Prompto stop by tomorrow to acclimate you to the city, if you're amenable."

"Yes, you've thought of everything, as always," the Marshal said, stepping forward and ushering Trina back toward the truck with the sweep of a hand. "Now get going. I'm only allowing this because it's important, and you claim to be the only one who can handle this. But the sooner you get back, the sooner we can rest knowing the Lord Protector is safe."

"Advisor. Senior Advisor. Chamberlain. Grand Chamberlain. Sergeant. Future Prime Minister. And now, another bloody title—two, if you count King Regent, since the conditions are a bit nebulous," Trina heard Laura mutter before she climbed into the passenger seat, and the Marshal shut the door behind her.

"This won't be the last mission by a long shot, I'm afraid," Trina heard Ignis's voice call out to the Marshal through the window. "We have several more planned which are vital to the survival of mankind and of the King."

"We'll talk about it when you get back," the Marshal called back as he opened his door and got in.

Trina turned to watch the two members of her family in the glowing red tail lights of the truck as they walked shoulder-to-shoulder back into the city that had once been her only home. The light hitting their skin didn't completely fade until the Marshal's tires had hit the bridge that would take them to the mainland, leaving them alone in the darkness with the daemons.

"I have to say," the Marshal began as she reluctantly turned to the front and looked ahead to the open road, "I thought Lord Venetus Étoile had left Insomnia when Queen Sylva died. When the Ambassador showed up at the gates asking me to wait for his wife, I wasn't expecting Lady Ustrina Scientia to appear this morning. Does Ignis know the full story?"

"I don't know how much Ettie has just told him."

Though Ettie had never served as Tenebraean ambassador to Lucis in any public official capacity, some of King Regis's most trusted servants were in the know. His workload had lightened considerably with increased tension between Lucis and the Empire with the death of Queen Sylva, but he'd still served as an occasional point of contact between Princess Lunafreya and King Regis. Trina's research often took them out of the city, which provided him the perfect cover to meet with any operatives from Tenebrae or, on the rare occasion Trina's work took them overseas, with Lady Lunafreya herself. But it was dangerous work, serving as an ambassador between two countries that shouldn't have been speaking.

Trina considered herself fortunate that a man of comparatively high social standing should be willing to overlook the Scientia family history with Ifrit, eschew his own heritage, and take her name to live in anonymity on the outskirts of the city so that she could more easily coordinate with the Hunters and conduct her research. While the legitimacy of Ettie's presence in Lucis was made more convincing by their marriage, he certainly hadn't _had_ to marry her to do so.

Over twenty years of research, of keeping quiet while the two of them kept their marriage a secret, had just been abandoned in the span of two days. But there was no longer a need for keeping Ignis safe from the Empire. There was no one left to make the connection that Princess Lunafreya's second cousin once removed was the Senior Advisor to the King of Lucis. There was no one in the Empire left to take advantage of that connection and seek to harm him.

Cor let out a long sigh. "I hadn't expected this. The last thing Lucis needs right now is for Ignis's loyalties to be divided."

"If he's anything like Ettie, that won't be a problem."

"Lord Étoile will be expected to step up in Lestallum, now that we know he's here. The Tenebraeans have been at a loss as to who to elect as their delegate to the Council with all the ruling families taken out. Rumor has it that the majority prefer to remain true to the monarchy. A few have chosen to stay behind in Tenebrae and take their chances with their wind power, but the ones that have landed here in Lucis will need a leader. It's already all over the comms that the Council wants to see him."

"He's been 'stepping up' here with the provisional government ever since the Empire retreated, just not in his official capacity. Perhaps you didn't notice because you were off elsewhere, doing whatever it is you've been doing."

"I've been following the King's orders," he said roughly, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. After several seconds spent staring off into the slowly brightening sky, he said, "He can't do as thorough a job under House Scientia. He needs to accept that Ignis is grown and can take care of himself now. Tenebrae needs House Étoile."

"You're right," she sighed.

"We're in talks to solidify matters with the Council regarding the Lucian and Eosian governments. Ignis has the backing of the Glaive and Guard, but only at my orders. Though we're still working to establish a formal partnership with the Hunters, he also has the Auburnbries' support. A political ally may convince the people to lend their lives to a twenty-three-year-old kid who happens to be a genius."

"So that's what you meant by calling him 'Lord Protector,'" she noted mildly. "Putting a servant to the Crown that's accused of ignoring the world in charge of the people with the greatest reasons to despise him."

"We all have our roles to play," the Marshal grunted. "You would all still need to hide your blood relation to keep the people from crying nepotism. It's possible that no one will notice if you take Lord Étoile's name. Most of those in court who would remember you were lost in the Fall. But someone has to keep Lucis running until the King returns, and technically, the job is Ignis's by right."

"So, the King will be returning, then? You haven't given up?" she asked, remembering some vague remark last night from Laura about the King asleep in the Crystal.

"Don't believe everything you read. The King will return, but we believe it will be some time before he does. Duke Scientia and Barron Étoile will need to take their proper places among the people as leaders in the meantime."

"You know that won't be his title for long."

"I know."

* * *

"You're free to come and go as you please, but we don't recommend leaving the city," the Marshal was explaining as he led her up the long, stone staircase of the main thoroughfare of the city. "That's going to change in these next few months, now that the Pegglar Outlook District is complete. Cid has plans for gating off the road from the gas station to the tunnel—if we can pull him away from that weapons upgrading contraption long enough, that is."

Trina tried her best to pay attention to Cor's words as they approached the square, but the streets were a flurry of activity. It appeared Nomadist Apothecary had just received a shipment of new poisons and was hurriedly unloading it from a pallet into the open door of the shop. A group of men was standing in a circle outside Hand of Hendrix arguing heatedly about the people in the other outposts left stranded by the sudden power outage.

"They're saying it was the King of Daemons," a man said tremulously. "Used his mind powers to attack the whole system at once. We're lucky the light from the old meteor site kept us safe!"

"You're full of it," another man scoffed. "Who cares about old husband's tales when we gotta rescue all those people? We can't leave 'em to the daemons, and I bet the government won't give us a hunting license to do it."

"To save people? You know they will."

Even more activity greeted them as the Marshal turned to the right and led her through the square, past the food stalls and Surgate's Beanmine. Though the restaurants themselves were closed during this time of rationing, what she knew to be the largest courtyard in the city was packed with men and children rushing in all directions, carrying stacks of wood, metal drums and cannisters, bags of garbage, and other refuse.

"They're all men and children," she noted. Though she'd been to Lestallum twice on her travels and knew about the city's rather outdated and backward attitudes toward traditional gender roles, she found it rather unsettling to be the _only_ woman currently walking on the streets this evening.

"Most of the women are with EXINERIS right now, working overtime to make sure the city's stable before restoring power to the surrounding area. There's a city-wide mandate to clean up the streets and refurbish all housing before the long night sets in."

As he led them past a group of men installing some sort of collection device on a pipe that was venting steam into the air, she asked, "Refurbish all housing?"

He nodded at a young boy leaning over on a ladder in the back corner of the square, carefully applying white paint to the trim of a building at the entrance to the narrow residential street they were headed toward. A man stood next to him, furiously scraping at the faded and chipped paint on the wall next to him.

"We've been working to restore abandoned, boarded-up buildings and splitting currently occupied residences to fit more refugees as they arrive."

Trina eyed the houses all huddled together on each block, sharing walls and heat as they rose high above the street, making her feel enclosed in a way she had never felt on the wide thoroughfares of Insomnia. The amalgam of the city's art deco style, Altissian baroque, even a smattering of Tenebraean neoclassical and art nouveau with its abundance of columns, spoke to better days gone by—when the world was a smaller place, sharing art and influence and knowledge worldwide. She was beginning to see the charm of the architectural features of the place—the gaudy colors combined with the geometric shapes and intricately carved columns. Even the intensely yellow and blue pipes from EXINERIS that covered every exterior leant their own sort of unique charm.

"I can't imagine the longstanding residents taking that lightly," she said mildly.

"No."

The street he had led her down appeared to be undergoing major renovation, as many of the buildings were still plastered with ads for Mama Edea's Organic Butter, Gracchus Motors, and Garula steak—Juicy and Delicious, Big enough for any appetite! Trina had just caught sight of a sign across from ads for Vixen Motors and Cotton Alley's Bean There, Jelly That! that declared them to be on the corner of Big North when Cor stopped suddenly and looked up at tall, freshly-painted Altissian baroque-style house.

"We're here."

She examined the sunny pastel corner unit, with its high, white columns; balconets; and blue-framed windows. She couldn't imagine herself or Ettie living in such a colorful house, and she wondered if Ignis and Laura had chosen the shade based on the history of the area or if it was their preference.

"If you need to get to the roof, the ladder's just around the corner there," the Marshal said, pointing down the street that went up the side of the house. At her furrowed brow, he answered, "Every house has a small aquaponics farm for fish and vegetables on its roof, as well as some traditional crops. Gotta get that vitamin D somehow. You don't need to worry about taking care of anything. Prompto will be by in the morning to check on it."

"All right," she sighed impatiently. Momentarily distracted by the bustle of the city, that jaw-tightening sense of anticipation had attenuated somewhat, but now that she was standing outside the heavy, dark wood of the door separating her from Ettie, even her exhaustion wasn't holding her back from the need to see him safe.

Without another word, the Marshal reached out to rap his knuckles in the center of the outline of a golden fish set into the wood and waited.

"Ettie," she whispered when the door swung open. She didn't care that he'd clearly showered and changed into his black slacks and a crisp, blue button-down. Without paying heed to how filthy she likely was, she threw herself into his arms, burying her face into his chest.

"Trina," he breathed, wrapping his arms more tightly around her and leaning in close to her ear. "It's all right. We're both all right."

"Sorry to interrupt, but there are some things I need to tell you before I get back to work," Cor said, and she reluctantly stepped to the side enough to meet his eyes, but she didn't move from underneath Ettie's arm as they stood on the stoop together.

The Marshal looked between them as he said, "Prompto should be stopping by around ten in the morning tomorrow, but Gladio teaches a public self-defense class at eight every morning in the training facility by the Council building on the main road. I recommend at least one of you stay for the urban farming class just after. You'll need it for when you get your own place.

"In the meantime, the Council already knows you're here, Ambassador, and would like to see you tomorrow afternoon." Turning to Trina, he said, "There's plenty of work to do once you've gotten settled. Market vendors are looking for volunteers to can or pickle excess produce, and we're in desperate need of more teachers. Prompto will fill you in, but start thinking about what sort of role you want to play."

While the information was useful, indeed, she couldn't find it in herself to care much about the shape her future would take at the moment. Eager to be alone with Ettie, she nodded and said, "Thank you, Marshal. We appreciate all you've done."

"Have a good evening," he said with a nod before turning and striding back down the street in the direction they'd come from.

"I imagine you'd like to get cleaned up," Ettie said softly once they'd lost sight of the Marshal, brushing the back of his knuckles across her cheek.

Trina shook her head. "I want to see my son's house first. I want to _know_ him, Ettie. So much of his life . . . we'll never get that back."

"Come inside."

Ignis and Laura's house was far smaller on the inside than she was expecting—a long, narrow rectangle whose ground floor was just large enough to hold a small living room and kitchen, clearly not meant to house more than two people. What the space lacked in size, however, was made up for in the light colors of the windowless room and the eclectic art deco and baroque styles that matched the outside of the house. She admired the bright yellow and blue tiles patterning the floors and stairs; the heavy, baroque-style green-upholstered couch; and the gleaming copper appliances set between the Tenebraean oak cabinets. Someone had obviously put a lot of care into making the small space seem like home.

But the most dramatic and personal touches were the vases of flowers and rows of books on every available counter space, the figurines of strange animals Trina had never seen decorating the kitchen, and, of course, the dozens of paintings and photos lining the white-and-gold wood paneled walls.

"It's like a conservatory mixed with an art gallery," Trina said in awe, studying a group of photos framed and hung off to the side of the sofa. She recognized every figure in the photo from press clippings and her recent meeting with Laura—the four boys and one girl in different combinations and poses all around Eos: goofing off in front of a group of chocobos outside Wiz's Post, standing in front of the Rock of Ravatogh, hugging in the middle of a busy Altissian street. She recognized Laura and who she assumed to be Ignis dressed in elaborate costumes and masks at an Altissian estate somewhere.

They looked like royalty standing among royalty.

Ettie wasn't studying the photos, however, choosing instead to stare longingly at a painting of the Tenebraean seaside hung in an ornate gilded frame centered over the sofa.

"Look at it in the center of the room—a place of pride. It's almost as though he knew," Ettie said in a low voice.

Trina winced, looking down at the table next to the couch and idly running her fingers over the corner of a photobook. He'd obviously done some exploring of his own while waiting for her to get back, as the book was open to a page of Laura lying half asleep draped across Ignis's chest in the back seat of a car as he stared down at her in wonder.

"He did know. I've been speaking to him for three years now."

She could tell by the way he didn't respond immediately that he was attempting to control his anger at her confession, and she looked up to see his jaw twitching as he continued to glare up at the painting with a cold expression.

"All these years," he finally managed. "I thought we agreed that it was in his best interests. What did you tell him?"

"He never had much time to write, it seemed—only a few letters. I thought . . . if it was just me, it would be safe. I told him your first name only and that you were from Tenebrae, nothing more."

"That certainly would be enough to capture anyone's interest should he have told the wrong person. And what if someone knew Trina Scientia and made the connection that her husband Ettie Scientia was really Venetus Étoile? That was foolish of you."

"I wanted him to know _something_ of himself. To be able to discover his own heritage should something happen to us."

"You're fortunate it worked out for the best," he sighed wearily. Placing a gentle hand to her arm, he turned her toward the stairs and ushered her forward. "Come. Let us get you cleaned up so we can rest."

"You waited up for me?" she asked, a small smile curling at her lip as she forced her heavy feet upstairs.

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed softly, an edge of irritation in his tone. "I had to stay awake in case someone brought news of you."

Her smile grew a fraction wider. "You stayed up for me."

The décor was also bright and airy upstairs as she stepped into the loft-like bedroom—done in white, soft shades of gold, navy blue, and dark wood. The windows along the far wall, though dressed in heavy gold and navy draperies, added more light from the street lamps outside. The art on the walls up here was more eclectic—an almost childlike drawing of the five friends next to a collection of the most detailed photographs of space she had ever seen, a garishly vivid painting of an exotic bird she couldn't identify, and what she was certain were framed Solheimian mathematics proofs over a heavy wooden desk in the corner.

"He and his wife certainly are interesting people," Ettie remarked as he stared curiously at the image of a swirling galaxy. "I understand you met her?"

"Dr. Laurelín Scientia—a remarkable and talented young woman. She saved my life."

"Good," he said with a sharp nod. "He'll need a strong woman by his side for his trials to come, as I have."

"Are we certain the Prince is dead? Perhaps there is hope he will come and claim his title."

Ettie stood stiff and silent for a moment before he finally answered, "Ignis took care of the matter himself, along with the King's retinue."

So, there it was, then. In the span of a single night, Trina had reunited with her entire family for the first time in nearly twenty years and was now situated between the future King of Tenebrae and the King Regent of Lucis as they led the people through this dark apocalypse.


	83. Chapter 83

**Author's Note:**

Warning: NSFW this chapter

* * *

 _This place is just so . . . strange,_ Laura said as they walked in wary silence down the cluttered sidewalk. _Even knowing Eos was originally from Earth . . . it's as though their culture was pasted sloppily onto yours._

There was little point in losing himself in thoughts of how they should have been here to protect their homes all those months ago, as the four of them would have died along with the rest in the face of the Empire's might. So he attempted to view the broken asphalt and crumbling buildings of this empty, eerie wasteland with the detached eye of an anthropologist instead.

He wasn't entirely successful, but he did manage to ask, _Oh, how so?_

She pointed to the window of a stationery store, where a faded sticker announced that they proudly accepted American Express cards.

 _What of it?_ he asked.

 _What does that word mean to you?_

Ignis shrugged. _The person who founded the company was named 'American.'_

 _But . . ._ she blinked in disbelief before casting her eyes around the ad-plastered, deserted intersection. Triumph infused her tone as she flung a hand up to a Japan Airlines ad hanging from the side of an office building. _Okay, that. You may have Magitek engines, but no way does a city with a Wall over it at war with everyone have an airline business. Even ignoring the fact that Japan isn't a country in this world, do you even know what an airline is?_

 _Typically, a designer's line of shoes created for jumping higher, or some such nonsense._ As the flood of information regarding America and the concept of an airline washed over him, his steps faltered on the sidewalk for a moment before resuming. _Oh . . . how . . . odd._

This was the fourth time in the last few days she'd pointed out the incongruencies and inconsistencies of his everyday life, which he hadn't truly paid any mind to before he'd left Insomnia, but why should he have? How was he to have known that so many of these logos and company names referenced countries, products, and celebrities that didn't exist? How was he to have known that Lucian formal script was, in actuality, Japanese? That he was speaking, _thinking_ , in English at this very moment? What had been the point of Eos leading them in this direction? Simply to emulate her beloved Earth?

In the span of nine months since meeting her, Laura had completely reoriented his world—had showed him the way an immortal, a time and space traveler, viewed the ads and trinkets and languages and every other seemingly inconsequential aspect of everyday living. It compelled him to take a second look at every familiar facet of life in Lucis, and it both troubled and thrilled him to find that he no longer quite belonged here among his fellow man.

And then he remembered that most of his fellow man had either been daemonized or vacated this desolate place.

The sensation of gentle fingers running down his jacket sleeve pulled him from his melancholy, and he looked down at Laura to give her a gentle, reassuring smile. _I'm all right. I must say I have much greater empathy for what it must feel like each time you take me back to Lliaméra. After days of contending with seeing my homeland in such a state, I fear I'm beginning to allow my mind to wander too far._

 _It's a bit different for me. I've had thousands of years and an identity crisis or two since then._ They continued to walk in silence in the weak afternoon sun, averting their eyes from piles of clothing shed like skins and turning their thoughts away from the frigid air whistling through the desolate streets.

 _I do so wish we could have something of news to deliver on Prompto's mother and father_ , Laura said softly as he led her to the left, past the train station to where the city began splitting off into levels of bridges, shops, and streets.

Ignis looked over at her from the side of his eye. They'd spent the last week wandering the city—searching the almost idyllic, tree-lined Sorwester for the quaint, suburban home he would have been raised in had he lived with his parents. A note left on the table expressed the hope that Ignis might find them in the city center, but they'd been called off their search to rescue the last group of refugees that had been delayed by an attack. Meeting his parents had been . . . not what he'd been expecting all these years. Given all he and Laura had been through as they traveled to the Argentums' residence, he'd had plenty of reasons not to have given the issues awaiting him at home any thought.

 _Given what we've learned of Prompto's past, I'm not certain he even wants to find them now._

 _There's always the chance that it wasn't what he's thinking. Parents often lie to their children to protect them._

As Ignis passed another ad for Meat & Meet, where he would sometimes . . . meet with Noct after a long day at the Citadel, he idly wondered if the upscale burger joint itself was still standing. But at her words, he allowed an edge of pensiveness to leak into his tone as he answered softly, "Yes, they do, apparently."

"Parents aren't the only ones who lie," she said significantly, shooting him an accusing glare. "The very first day we left this place and I asked about what you all do, you were the chef, Your Grace."

"If you'll recall correctly, which I know for a fact you do, it was Prompto who cut in with that information," he replied, perhaps somewhat acerbically. "And besides, I seem to recall a woman sitting in the back seat and presenting herself as a rather dim Insomnian noblewoman on that very same day."

"Well, you've got me there, I must admit." She wove her fingers through his as they walked, leaning into his arm. "You're so much more than a chef—than even a Duke—to me, to Noct, to everyone. I hope you see that now."

As a child, he'd always done what was expected of him to the best of his ability, and despite it being one of his greatest fears in life, he'd often been overlooked as Prince Noctis's . . . butler? chef? secretary? playmate? He knew well enough that his reputation had labeled him a perfectionist—obsessive about the Prince's every need. But despite this reputation for getting the job done, he'd still always been seen as thoroughly ordinary, nothing noteworthy. It therefore had come as a great surprise that his parents had been missing all these years not due to neglect or disinterest, but rather a desire to keep his extraordinary heritage from the Empire to use against Lucis or Tenebrae.

He never would have thought to even attempt to safeguard against such a security threat.

 _I suppose Prompto will have plenty to keep him busy when he moves out to Hammerhead soon,_ he said, diverting the subject away from himself. _With or without power, it's not an area we can afford to lose, with the facilities for repairs and the oil operations nearby._

She narrowed her eyes up at him, concern pushing its way across their bond, but she played along. _And Cid and Cindy would kill us if we lost it._

 _That as well._

Stepping lightly over the bottles of CoolCool soda spilling out from a half-crushed vending machine, he turned again, taking them down the set of stairs that would lead them to the lower levels of the city, which coincidentally passed by where he'd once lived. This was hardly the most efficient way to the Royal Library, the next of their missions they had to accomplish, but there was a rather personal errand he needed to attend to while they were here, if possible.

Entering this more familiar neighborhood found him overcome with memories and mourning as he traced his usual steps home. He'd begun to grow numb to the pain of seeing all the little details of his city fatally wounded—the familiar and secret places lying broken and ruined like a personal injury on his heart. But though he'd never considered himself particularly attached to his apartment before their journey, it felt something like desecration to see his neighborhood slowly growing wild and derelict.

 _Speaking of parents and their . . . mistruths, do you plan on telling them about us?_ she asked, pulling him from his morbid thoughts.

He hesitated, twisting his lips a little in thought. _I haven't decided yet. I barely know them, yet they are in the unique position to make comments about my private life, including my procreation habits. I'm unaccustomed to what few life choices I have being up for debate or discussion._

 _Yes, that's going to be an issue,_ she said, and he noticed that she made a concentrated effort not to meet his eyes as she spoke. _That sort of thing doesn't change with humans across the universes, and especially with nobility._

 _It was my decision to make, and one I'll never regret making,_ he said firmly as he squeezed her fingers. _But I'm thinking, for now, we won't. I can't imagine telling them their daughter-in-law would be considered divinity on our world, and that we've already been attacked by one of the Six of legend just for being together. Even if they don't understand the specifics of our relationship, surely they can comprehend that raising a child in this world . . .._

He let his voice trail off but still allowed her to see his thoughts as he ran a hand along the metal rail and looked down to inspect another level of street below.

He, Noct, and Gladio had been raised in a world that expected the world of them, a practice he'd once thought standard until he'd left the safety of the city. Despite what Ignis had seen of the adored younger generation of the outlands, he still believed a rigorous education and upbringing instilled a sense of self-discipline and character. Yet though children beyond the Wall were generally allowed to live as freely as their lifestyles permitted them, the families they'd encountered lived in far harsher conditions, facing poverty, starvation, and frequent daemon attacks. With the coming darkness, surely not even his parents would judge him for not wanting to bring another being into this world, even if such a thing were possible.

 _Yes,_ she sighed in agreement, _it breaks my heart to think of sweet little Talcott learning to kill as he is._

 _We want him to survive as much as anyone, and that means developing certain skills, just as we did. Between his training with Monica, Dustin, and the four of us, we will ensure him a successful life._

 _I'd like to point out the hypocrisy of that statement. Why is it too dangerous for Iris to fight? She wants to be a Hunter. Please don't tell me it's some silly reason—like because she's a girl._

Ignis's brows twitched down. _Perhaps there's a slight sexism bias that our society was only just beginning to eradicate,_ he admitted. _I imagine Cor won't hold out for long, but in the meantime, she's likely receiving training from Gladio._

 _Good. Though I despise the loss of her innocence just as much as Talcott's, you have a point, and I should see to her training when I can, as well._

They were close now; he used to see those electric screens every night on his way home from work blaring ads for everything from Libratablets to Callux Vellum. He'd never realized how beautiful and unique this city was, with its gothic architectural style, the bridges spanning high rises above their heads, and the multiple levels of streets and shops all the way down to the ground. Of course, it was far easier to appreciate it after having been away for so long, after having lost nearly everything, after _Lucis_ had lost everything.

The lack of noise—jostling crowds, people speaking loud enough to be heard over hundreds of other voices, the piercing car horns—added a degree of separation that made him feel as though he were standing in a surreal and eerie nightmare. Even the minor detail of the missing Wall's bluish haze over the sky was far more disorienting than he'd expected.

Laura had allowed their connection to go still and silent for a several minutes as he lost himself in memories, but when he felt her mind stirring against his again, he knew the question was coming before the thought popped into his head. _Have you spoken to Gladio?_

 _You know I haven't. I'm not the one enforcing this petty feud._

 _He'll have to forgive us eventually. You'll be working together when he takes his role as head of the Crownsguard. And if that formal union goes through with the Kingsglaive and Hunters, it will essentially put you in charge of the political sphere with him in charge of the military._

 _But until such time that he removes his sword hilt from his backside,_ he growled, gritting his teeth, _the Marshal will be the one threatening martial law to ensure the people's cooperation on my behalf._

She shut down immediately, her mind going silent, and he sighed as he rubbed his thumb across hers. This was a longstanding sore point with him now, and no matter what she said to comfort him, no matter how reasonable it was for the people to despise this child coming in and taking over every aspect of their lives after being abandoned by the Crown for so long, it would never sit well with him that he'd needed the Marshal in order to take his position.

 _Apologies_.

She leaned in to press a quick kiss to his shoulder in response. _No need to apologize. I know it's frustrating. Gladio will come around eventually, you have Cor's unwavering support, and at least you have Vyv's more unbiased support. I appreciate that he isn't willing to become your propaganda machine._

 _I agree, even though I would prefer he not sow even the smallest seeds of fear among the already panicking populace._ Thinking of how much there was to accomplish the moment they returned to Lestallum, he swore he could feel his blood pressure rising, warming his head and neck against the chill of the winter air. It was a painfully familiar sensation—walking home every evening wondering just how on Eos he was supposed to pull off whatever recent assignment he'd just received in time before being given another, all while ensuring a rather apathetic young man made it through life as unscathed and successfully as possible.

 _How do you feel about grand theft auto?_ she asked suddenly.

He blinked down at her, wondering what had instigated her line of inquiry. _I wouldn't be opposed to it if it were necessary, but as it isn't, I'd say the point is moot._

 _I was thinking we could take a car out of the city once we've done the Citadel—as long as we left while it was still daylight._

Strange that she should bring this up now; they were just passing the boarded-up storefront of his favorite noodle and book shop, steps away from the garage where he kept his car.

 _Impossible, else the evacuees would have driven and not walked out of the city._

 _I wasn't talking about the roads being blocked; I was talking about the sound attracting daemons,_ she scoffed, looking up at him with a sassy smirk. _You and I have traversed quite a lot of this place._ _Think I can find a route that would only minorly scrape up any vehicle we take. It just can't be too loud._

Ignis let a giddy smile cross his lips as he abruptly changed directions, tugging on her hand to pull her across the street. He looked both ways before he stepped into the road, still following that ingrained instinct to duck between the nearly solid line of honking cars or the people that would wash over him in never-ending waves whenever he attempted a maneuver like this. But of course there was no one to impede their progress as he led her across and down the street to a nondescript metal door.

 _What's going on in that head of yours? We don't need a car right now,_ she said, staring up at the parking garage looming several stories over them. That curious, wondrous light illuminated her expression as he sent her his anticipation and pleasure at being the one to surprise her for once.

 _I have something to show you,_ he said with a boyish grin. _Perhaps theft won't be necessary after all._

There were few luxuries he was afforded because of his position; his apartment alone was proof that he'd lived comfortably, but hardly pampered. The area in which he lived in the southwest corner of the city center was settled on the border of a wealthy district and what Noct liked to call 'The Grunge District.' It had been cheap enough that he could buy his apartment outright with his own money and rent it out when he moved back into the Citadel, yet safe enough that he wouldn't be drawn into knife fights on his way home every evening. And, to his relief, it appeared that its distance from the Citadel and lack of affluent residents had spared this neighborhood the interest of the Empire during the Fall and occupation.

There was only one luxury he'd used his position as the Prince's chamberlain to get for himself—a decent parking space, as he'd cited to the garage's owner that he needed to rush to the Prince's side immediately if necessary. He therefore didn't have to pull her along the rows of cars parked on the ground floor for very long before he stopped in front of his sleek, black Insignia, dropped her hand, and ran the pads of his gloved fingertips over the dusty hood.

"This is yours?" she whispered, her tone just as hushed and awed as his was any time she took him someplace that swept him away. Delight frothed between them as his smile widened, and he nodded. _She's beautiful._

 _She isn't appropriate to keep in times such as these, unfortunately. Hardly fuel efficient, either—probably fifteen miles to the gallon in the outlands, at best. But she's far faster than the Regalia, far more chocopower._

Tracing her finger along the silver scrollwork running up the window guards, she whispered, "If you don't mind her getting a bit dinged, we could keep her safe with the Regalia . . . maybe have Cindy fix her up after, too."

 _I'd like that_.

He was just cupping a hand to peer through the dark tint into the interior when he heard Laura take a long, slow breath through her nose.

 _What is it?_ he asked, straightening and scanning the area for danger. They'd been fortunate not to have come across a daemon yet today, but as he looked through the slats letting points of light into the dim garage, he could see that it was growing far darker than it should for even recent reduced daylight hours.

 _Do you smell that?_ she asked with a frown.

He took in a deep breath, but sensitive though his nose was, he could only detect the reek of decay, standing water, and rot that he'd smelled since first entering the city. He was capable of putting facts together, however, and the darkening sky, the scent she detected, and the rash of storms they'd had recently meant that another was likely on the way.

Which meant the daemons would be on their way, too.

"My apartment is two blocks away," he said softly, already turning to jog back to the door through which they'd come. "I suppose we should consider ourselves fortunate to have rain and not snow."

He'd been hoping they would have the opportunity to do this, selfish though it was to run a personal errand when they had far more important things to do. As he led her up the several flights of pitch-black stairs and into the hall that led to his door, the first stirrings of thunder rumbled over the city. They'd likely need to take shelter far longer than anticipated, allowing him the time to perhaps gather more than just the single item he wanted more than anything from this place.

As he ushered Laura inside and turned to lock the door behind him, he stretched out his senses as far as they would go for any hint of scourge on the air.

"We should be safe. The entire neighborhood seems rather quiet in terms of both damage and daemons," Laura said. She strode to the small window in the kitchenette that was letting in the dim, grey light. "How many windows do you have?"

"Three. That one, and two in the bedroom."

"Morna," she said, pressing her hand against the window. The glass lit up briefly, but immediately returned to its ordinary state. "Still allows light in, but not out," she explained.

Ignis took a moment to glance around the humble space that had once been his home as she headed into the bedroom to cast the same spell on the two windows there. The five years he had spent here felt distant and detached somehow, as though they had happened to someone else, after the ten months of devastation and exhilarating adventures he had experienced. This small, mundane life no longer belonged to him, and he still found he didn't hold any sort of emotional attachment to anything in this place, save for the single object in the bedroom. Still, the long hours he'd spent here were a very sharp reminder of everything he'd once been and, if he were honest with himself, represented the fear of what he was about to become.

There was a frown pulling at Laura's mouth when she returned to his side. "Ignis?" she asked, running a hand down his forearm.

"Is it safe to turn a light on?" he asked over the now constant soundtrack of thunder rumbling above their heads.

She nodded and summoned one of her orbs, illuminating the small space with blue-white light, and as she set it on the table behind her, he studied the rather disjointed image of her shining black hair and divine form standing in the middle of his thoroughly ordinary kitchen.

"Are you all right being here?" she asked, turning back and stepping up to search his face.

"Yes. Though compared to the home you've made for us in Lestallum, I'm afraid it's rather . . . austere."

He watched her expression fall as she turned in a circle, her attention pausing on the bookshelf sagging with the weight of the books he'd been gifted with over the years, the reports he'd left for later perusal stacked on the little breakfast table, and, standing out most of all, the single piece of art he had on his wall—a painting of the Galdin shore that his neighbor had given him before moving away.

"You do . . . like our house, right? You weren't lying to me, were you?"

"Of course not!" he said immediately, his lips tugging down into a sharp frown. "I helped you choose most of our décor, did I not?" But he could see plainly in the contrast of the two places why she would believe such a thing. His furniture was plain, inexpensive—the apartment itself thoroughly unadorned. One would believe he had no money at all in this world until they looked closely at the coffee maker or in the kitchen cabinets—but even most of his dishware had been gifts.

"I bought this place when Noct moved out to attend public school," he explained, a wry smile twisting his features a little in remembrance. "No one expected Noct to make it for long on his own, but when he did, with my assistance, I decided it was best to stay here. I had furnished it with impermanence in mind, as I would be returning to the Citadel in a few short years. I was expecting to make the move while Noct was on his honeymoon."

It really didn't need to be said that he never spent much time here, regardless. In fact, it was the first time he'd ever had anyone besides himself in this place.

"My heart wasn't here," he reassured her, "not like our house . . . houses, I should say."

"Well, I suppose we can take this opportunity to pack up anything you want to take with you," she said hesitantly.

More out of habit than anything, he bent to take his shoes off and placed them neatly by the door as she followed his lead, draping her socks neatly over the tops of her boots. He smiled a little to himself at the sight. Though they hadn't had much time to experience domestic bliss in their new home together with all the emergencies that needed to be handled since they'd returned from Gralea, he'd already discovered that her living habits meshed well with his own.

"The books, my clothes, and perhaps some of the cookware, as our kitchen is still a bit bare. I do hope my parents will manage all right without us."

"They should be fine. I saw a box of Ebony-flavored Monster Flakes in the kitchen when I left," she said with a grin.

"Prompto left that for us as a thank-you the last time he slept on the couch. Frankly, I've been apprehensive to try coffee-flavored cornflakes." When she immediately moved to the bookshelf to begin dismissing his books, he added, "Are you certain you'll be all right to add this much magic to the past several days' worth merely for my sake? I've noted you've seemed somewhat wilted since evacuating everyone from Caem—even with your emerald."

"I've been limiting the use of the emerald in case we need it later. It wasn't loaded enough to be used for more than a couple of emergencies, as my spells use far more energy than yours. But that oak needed to be protected and converted to survive the darkness, or you would have lost the protection of the area when we got the grid back up. Kimya is helping with some potions for longer-term solutions, but she needs to send some Glaives out to Malmalam Thicket for more ingredients."

"Yes, she mentioned that. She also needs ingredients to supplement the protections at the havens. The thicket is yet another area we can't afford to lose, with its abundance of natural medicinal ingredients." He sighed as he took the four steps necessary to get to the kitchen and began removing the enameled cast iron bakeware he'd never used because, until he'd left Insomnia, he'd never cooked for anyone besides Noct and himself.

"Not if you plan to go ahead with your 'quarantine procedures.'"

"You don't approve?" he asked cautiously, as she'd been hesitant to offer a direct opinion on the issue thus far.

"Honestly, I see very little choice in the matter until I can get to studying the thing, but we're getting dangerously close to a rule of mine about getting caught up in the political machinations of a planet."

He had to speak up as the rain finally began to fall, splatting in fat, wet drops against the kitchen window. "I'll send some of the amnesiac Glaives out there when we return. Though I don't imagine they pose a threat to the people, I must admit I feel more comfortable having them defend places like Malmalam and Angelgard. I have several out collecting meteorshards, as well."

"And that's another mystery that still needs solving. Do you think they're lying? They don't seem to be, to me."

"And it's your word that I trust. Had these been different times, they would _all_ be on trial for treason and war crimes right now, including Loqi and Aranea," he said harshly.

"I thought you liked Aranea."

"I do, but one must take responsibility for one's actions, and many civilians have died as a result of operations which they and the Glaive have been a part of."

"For the record, I think you did the right thing, granting everyone a pardon. We need all the skilled leaders we can get right now."

"Which was my thinking on the matter. And I suppose that the Old Kings have re-granted the Glaive their power after Lady Lunafreya set the Power of Kings free in Altissia speaks to some degree of forgiveness."

She came to stand next to him, gently placing her hands on everything he'd laid out on the counter and in the sink and dismissing it into her Pocket with breathy sighs of wind. Seeing her here in this place—a flash of color and fantasy among the dullness that had been his everyday life—it was suddenly difficult convincing himself that the last year hadn't been a wild dream. He'd thought he'd had the general measure of his life the last time he'd left this apartment, but since then, he'd killed; _been_ killed; discovered magic he'd never dreamed of, let alone dreamed of wielding; become a true master of the blade; experienced joy and love.

And lost Noct.

But no, there was no sense lamenting for what he couldn't change. He could only hope to change their future now.

After silently taking off his gloves and dismissing them, he brought his palm up to the back of Laura's neck, rubbing his thumb and forefinger along either side of her spine and letting the heat of her body seep into his skin, grounding him to the reality of this moment. "You know, I may not have known who you were yet, but I imagined you everywhere in this place."

Her hands paused over the dark blue casserole dish as she looked up at him with a wistful sort of longing. Her attention darted ever so briefly down to his lips before shooting back up to his eyes. "Oh yeah? Tell me about it."

"Well, I would come home from work—"

"Late."

His mouth twitched up into a small smile. "Yes, late, of course. And you would be cooking dinner for us."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, would I?"

"This is my fantasy," he retorted defensively. "Yes, you would."

But her smile grew warm and wide, her eyes twinkling as her tongue poked out to touch the top of her teeth. "You know I would. And there would've been plenty of time to let your favorite bottle of wine breathe." Without warning, she pulled from their tender moment and skipped to the stove. "All right. I'm here. Then what?"

Ignis stepped up behind her, removed her hair clip, and swept her hair over her shoulder, exposing the back of her neck to his mouth. "I always longed to touch you."

He pulled her back to his chest, just barely grazing his lips along the back of her neck until he felt the tiny hairs prickle against his skin. She arched into the contact as he skimmed both hands down her sides, across her hips, and back up her torso.

"I'd of course be overcome immediately by those talented hands of yours," she said breathily as his mouth found one of his favorite spots behind her ear, and she shuddered against him as he followed his wet caress up with a scrape of his teeth against her warm skin.

"You'd be calling out my name already."

 _Cocky bastard,_ she said amusedly, but as she brought a hand around to grasp his hip, she sighed aloud, "Yes. Ignis."

He inhaled into her neck deeply, tasting that pine and kithairon and almost dusty scent of time in the back of his throat—the source of life, as far as he was concerned. But it was mixed with the far too familiar scent of his old life—his old cleaning products, the ever-present aroma of the building itself. When he opened his eyes to see that suffocating kitchen in that suffocating city with his entire suffocating future laid out before him, he couldn't help but freeze as it all came crashing down on him.

Everything he once was, everything he used to be truly was gone, which he'd been well-aware of for some time now, but it was no substitute for standing in the middle of the wreckage of his past pressed against his future. The charge he had so painstakingly taken care of his entire life was gone and may not ever truly return.

He was suddenly drowning in them—the losses he'd endured and that persistent nagging insistence that he was happier here in this apocalypse than he'd ever been when everyone else was alive and happy. How incredibly narcissistic was that? What right did he have to be happy in this world when Noct wouldn't have a future? When countless others were dying? What right did he have to fear what was in store for the both of them when so many people had lost everything?

"Hey," she soothed, turning around in his arms, pressing him up against the wall beside them, and sweeping into his mind. Her presence there was able to guide him to the present, for no matter how many times he'd fantasized about having a life partner, his imagination had never taken him quite as far as telepathy. "Of course you have the right to be happy, to be afraid, to feel. We're doing all we can to save them all, love, but you can't stop living in the meantime."

"Forgive me. It's just that . . . I thought I knew everything when I left this place behind—who I was, how to cook," he snorted a little at the words, at the insinuation that he'd already been reduced to that despite his best efforts, "how to fight. Everything that was expected of me and even a little beyond that. I kept a close eye on my adversaries, carefully analyzing their every step and calculating their every weakness to my advantage for Noct's sake. I was going to see Noct through this, through everything we didn't know was coming. But _Astrals_ , was I wrong, so very wrong, when I got out there. About everything."

"Tell me what you need," she murmured, grazing her lips along the line of his chin and down his outstretched neck as he stared up at the ceiling. "I'm here. I'm real. Whatever you need from me, take it, let me give it to you, whatever. Ignis, please, love."

And here was yet another aspect of this new world so very different than his old one—the fact that all he needed to do to receive something for him and him alone was ask for it. "Just touch me. Please, Rose," he gasped. "Anywhere, any way, it doesn't matter."

Her hands moved from his ribs to the buttons on his shirt as a crash of thunder sounded right above their heads, rattling the loose window next to them and making the wall at his back vibrate.

He leaned down to capture her mouth to cover his flinch of surprise, flicking his tongue against her soft lips as he felt her questing fingertips palm the patch of hair on his chest and stroke his abdominals. Burying his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and opening her mouth beneath his, he tried to shutter that overwhelming neediness he hadn't experienced since Altissia, but her heart so clearly on display loving him was making him weak. She tasted like breathlessness, she tasted of the wild.

He pulled away to close his eyes and rest his forehead against hers. "Rose," he breathed on an exhale.

As always, she seemed to know exactly what he wanted when he maneuvered her toward the bedroom, as she immediately leapt up onto his hips, gripped him with her knees, and cupped his jaw in both her hands.

 _I love you_ , she whispered as her mouth moved over his, breathing that life into him. _Never, ever forget that._

 _As I will always love you._

He stumbled a little when he discovered his bedroom door was not quite as far as he'd remembered it, but he recovered quickly, stopping only to set her down in front of the bed and tear her jacket off her shoulders.

They helped each other to undress quickly and silently, letting that frantic need to consume pass between them and feed the other's desperation as they nipped and lipped at any exposed skin they could reach. As many lonely nights as he'd spent in this bed, quickly and efficiently taking care of himself so he wouldn't be plagued by that pesky desire, a part of him was more than looking forward to sharing the experience for once. But just as he was about to push her onto the bed, take his sweet time, and show her just how much he'd learned from her, she placed a hand to his chest to stop him.

"There's something I want to do first. Please?"

He furrowed his brow down at her. Had he really been that forward? She so rarely took the lead that he began to question whether he'd too often concentrated on taking from her and giving to her rather than allowing her to give and take from him.

"Stop second-guessing yourself. You know I'll ask for something when I want it—which is what I'm doing now."

"By all means," he said, gesturing to the bed, but she led him forward first.

"On your stomach."

The scratchy sheets weren't nearly as dusty as he was expecting, but they still smelled stale as he climbed onto his old bed completely naked for the first time. That whispering prickle traveling up the backs of his legs told him that she was letting her hair trail over his skin as she moved up his body, just as she knew he loved. The heat leaking from between her legs settled over his backside as she sat on him, leaning forward to suckle at the back of his neck.

"Mmm," he groaned in appreciation as he reached behind him to stroke her hip.

He felt her sit back up as she ran reverent hands over his back, starting with gentle fingertips before curling her nails to whisper against his skin. Gods damn it, it had been far too long since they'd had the chance to truly enjoy one another like this. He should have known but hadn't realized just how much he'd missed this skin to skin contact he'd grown to crave. But each time the desire for it would cross his mind at his desk or in the field, he'd have to brush it aside in favor of everything that needed to be done first.

"I remember the very first time I met you very clearly," she said casually, but the tone in her voice made him suspect she had some grand point to make. He let himself relax under her hands, flexing his hips into the mattress to relieve a little of that aching heaviness he was looking forward to drawing out tonight.

"I don't. Honestly, I'm a little muddled as to when exactly our first meeting was. And who knows if some memory of you helping me cross the street when I was four will suddenly surface?"

She waited for the flash of lightning to bring the answering roll of thunder before she answered, "My first meeting with you wasn't your first with me. You marched into that kitchen with such command of yourself—as though you owned the place."

"I'd spent far too much time in there," he groaned as she wrapped her hands around his shoulders and squeezed.

"Your mind was a storm; I could feel it—shifting and dancing, quick, bright and colorful—a flickering flame in the dark. And then I glanced at your face . . . just for a moment."

Ignis held his breath as her hands paused in kneading the knots beneath his shoulder blades.

"Your expression was so calm, serene almost, but that mind was on fire in the intensity of those eyes of yours." She leaned over him, her soft breasts pushing up against his back as he felt her hot breath tickle at his ear. "The beauty of it still stuns me every day, Ignis. I saw you then, and I can't stop."

"Imagine that which you've been trained to be your entire life was also your greatest fear," he confessed, closing his eyes to block out the sight of his bare little room. "I was not to stand out, so I didn't, but _oh, Rose,_ I so wanted _someone_ to see me. And you did. You saw me when I was invisible."

"How could I not?" she asked incredulously, accentuating her words with a caress down his back. "My god, look at you."

He bucked his hips just enough for her to rise up so he could turn and yank her to his chest, threading his hands in her long hair and holding her to him tightly. Pressing a long, hard kiss against her forehead, he said, _You might be surprised at how well I managed to succeed in my goal._

 _"Ithīr," she whispered against his neck. "Please, tell me what you want."_

He grazed his fingertips over her ribs, appreciating the perfect shape of her trim figure that seemed to glow even in the dim light of the storm still beating itself against his windows.

"That you chose me . . . of everyone in the universes," he murmured. "You know what I want."

"You chose me too, you know. Not like just anyone would have me. And of course I know what you want, but I want to hear you say it."

This wasn't how he had planned for this liaison to go when they'd first come in here. He'd wanted to show her how grateful he was to have her, to demonstrate how much he'd learned of her body, to apply that intimate knowledge with a tactician's preciseness and make her cry his name at the perfect clap of thunder so they wouldn't be overheard.

But as she wrapped her insistent lips around the edge of his jaw and let his length slip through her folds, he found himself gasping, the words seemingly ripped from his throat.

"Love me . . . please. Take care of me."

She wouldn't judge him in the least for this most weak and selfish desire of his heart, but though the words had been confessed freely, they hadn't been so unreservedly. Why did it hurt so much to admit that he so desperately wanted what she already gave him?

Her lips moved to his face, kissing his forehead, skimming down to his left cheekbone, then gently pressing to his lips. Eager as he was to taste her again, he leaned up to open her mouth with his, but she pulled back before caressing his lower lip sweetly between hers. She pulled away again before returning, this time increasing the pressure. Again and again, she advanced and retreated, increasing the intensity before she _finally_ sealed their mouths together and entwined her tongue with his. She always left a sharp, clear flavor on the tip of his tongue—something that reminded him of the time she'd asked him to taste the sky in their field behind the chocobo ranch. She pulled back once more, letting their breaths mingle between them in the privacy curtain her hair created around their faces.

"Athon, _Ithīr," she affirmed. "And no matter what the coming days bring, I always will."_

For once, he didn't touch her beyond the occasional brush of his fingers over her body or down the long strands of her hair as she started with his face and moved lower—running her hands and mouth over his fevered skin as he breathed into her touch. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, allowing himself to be transported away from that lonely little bedroom to the windswept bower that he now referred to as home. And for once, she took her time, letting him linger in that sweet agony of desire as long as he wished as she slowly worked on him.

 _For all that you call me a goddess, look at you,_ she purred as she scraped her teeth across his chest and traced the lines of his outer abdominals. _A piece of the heavens yourself._

 _No one else ever seemed to think so._

 _Their loss, love. You're a pleasure to know and a joy to look at._

The smallest of whimpers escaped his closed lips when her hair teasingly brushed against his pulsing erection at the very same moment her mouth closed around his left hip bone and sucked hard. The rain was still lashing against the glass, filling the room with a heavy drumming that drowned out his moment of weakness, but he nevertheless flung the back of his hand to his lips, softly biting the skin to keep himself quiet.

"Hey, we're still safe," she murmured against his stomach. "The storm's still raging. Let me hear you a little, yeah? Let go for me, love."

Her breasts moved to frame his length as she kissed and licked at the trail of hair on his heaving lower belly before moving up to trace around his navel with her lips. He pushed himself up between her soft, warm flesh, allowing that whimper to morph into a soft whine of encouragement pushed through his gritted teeth. That rush of wet heat he felt of her arousal in response to the sound spurred him to let out a quiet groan and encourage her further.

It always felt _so_ good to let it out a little.

Shifting in anticipation as she leaned over him, he sucked in a lungful of air between his teeth as she grazed the very tip of her tongue from his base to his tip.

"Please," he panted.

"Mmm," she hummed, her lips just shy of the underside of his ridge, close enough that he could feel the tickle of her breath. "You beg for it, and yet you love the torture, don't you?"

He wasn't capable of an eloquent or witty reply, so he settled for nodding vigorously as she wrapped her fingers around the base of him, stroking him firmly. He could feel her blood singing with arousal in a descant to his own. This drawn-out reveling in anticipation had never been her preference. In fact, she typically interrupted his designs on her with her impatience to have him. What was it about this evening that had caused the shift in her usual habit? Not that he was complaining, certainly.

"Be fair. I so rarely get you to myself. Not everyone has the patience of a saint like you." As she peppered gentle kisses back down his length, she said, "Tell me what you want, love." She followed up her request with the edging of her thumb along the groove under his head.

" _Oh_ , I . . . please—your mouth on me. Please."

This was what he loved about being with her; there was no need to act a part to protect his pride. He could safely display the soft underbelly of precisely what made him weak, and she would relish the revelation and protect it as though it were her own. She complied with his request immediately, plunging him to the back of her throat so suddenly that he had to clench his teeth shut to keep from crying out.

"Rose," he groaned, reaching down to stroke her hair.

Despite her aggressive start, Laura turned gentle, sucking him lazily in a way that was pleasurable but not nearly enough to build anything but arousal between them, increasing that pressure in his lungs as he breathed against the desire to sit up and haul her over him to thrust into her. Grabbing his second pillow to shove beneath his head, he watched himself slide in and out between her lips and felt her body growing warm as that column of heat roasted her from the inside, stoking his own fire. He fisted his hands in the sheets at his side when she dragged the edge of her teeth up his length before pressing her tongue firmly all the way back down, but he was still no closer to relief when she finally looked up at him through her eyelashes, her eyes dark and wanting.

"Please, come here?" he asked, tugging ineffectually at her shoulders, but she complied, crawling up to settle her head on his chest and his length between the lips of her wet sex.

"Can I—? Do you want . . .?" she asked, sliding back and forth along him until his head caught on her entrance. She froze, waiting for his response, but he could feel her eagerness to relieve that ache she always felt when they'd pushed her arousal too far.

"Yes," he said in a low voice, wedging a hand between her legs to hold himself steady while she lowered herself onto him.

As before, she began slowly, with shallow thrusts to allow herself time to adjust to his girth while he took long, stuttering breaths against her warm skin. When he had finally seated fully inside her, she took him slowly, worshipfully, leaning forward to enclose him in her curtain of dark hair and press sweet, gentle lips to his. Her goal clearly wasn't to bring either of them to conclusion anytime soon—merely to make him feel adored, so he rejoiced in it, blocking out the sound of the raging storm outside and the memories inside and focusing instead on her heavy breaths, her sex along his length, her sensitive bud beneath his fingertips.

He began to feel more settled after a time, that desire to prove himself returning in full force, so he rolled them over and pinned her to the mattress beneath him.

"Please, let me show you," he whispered, nuzzling just below her ear.

When she nodded, he sat up on his knees, bending to melt his lips into the peaks of each velvet-soft breast as she buried her fingers in his hair and scratched deliciously at his scalp. She was already weak to him, having undone herself just as much as she had him, so he wasn't terribly surprised when she called out his name the moment his hips had aligned to press him just right into her.

"Ignis," she pleaded, throwing her head back into the pillow.

He smiled down at her, reveling in the trickling waves of pleasure she was sending through their connection, but he was still perfectly in control of himself as he moved in her. The pace he set was slow and fluid, rolling his hips so that his shaft rubbed against her bud and his head pushed at the spot that made the shadow of his name appear on her lips each time he hit it just right.

She was going to come for him twice tonight; he would ensure it, and the first time, it was going to be with a clear head so he could watch every nuance of her expression.

She was so very close now, he could tell in the way she wasn't saying his name with each thrust but breathing it on every exhalation, "Ithīr, Ignis, Ithīr, Ithīr . . .."

The clench of her walls around him, the way her eyes had gone wide and blank, her sharp inhalation with every inward stroke . . . he knew it was merely moments away when she squeezed the back of his neck and began quivering.

He drew a slow, sweet kiss from her lips before pulling back to whisper, "Come for me, darling."

"Oh," she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut tightly and bringing her hands to caress his face as she fluttered around him.

"That's it," he coaxed, slowing to draw out her climax, but each stroke was beginning to stoke the fire building in his own spine.

He gave her a few moments to recover after she'd gone limp, pressing their foreheads together and breathing along with her until she moved her hands from his jaw to his shoulder and nodded.

"Hold on to me, love," he murmured.

With another breathless nod, she gripped his arms as he began again. He forced himself to relax against that coiling tension, to ease his taught muscles so he could last longer and allow himself the time to work her into another frenzy. Though he knew his words typically spurred her to climax more quickly, he felt he'd already bared too much of his soul aloud this evening for his taste, so he kept silent and instead served her by sending her his affection and gratitude.

But damn his fingers for growing clumsy against her; damn his mind for faltering in his telepathic assault on her senses. Even his words faltered as he felt her shiver beneath him. "So very beautiful. I can't—oh, I need . . .."

"You're not alone, love," she panted, stroking his neck before reaching up to kiss his forehead, and the words were just what he hadn't realized he needed to hear. "I'm coming with you. I promise. Tye méla."

Ignis dutifully held on until she'd crested that first wave with a squeeze and a cry of his name that sent him shuddering into his own unrestrained release. No matter how many times they did this, there would always be something primally satisfying about emptying himself inside her, leaving a piece of himself and his heart behind. That barbaric claiming would always speak to something deep in him, no matter how prosaic the notion seemed in the context of the history of humanity. He'd thought himself to be above such things, but it was just another thing he'd been wrong about.

Suddenly exhausted, he rolled off to the side, pulling her close and nuzzling her neck as they both breathed together.

" _Inye tye méla, oialë," he answered as she nestled into his side so that more of her warm skin rubbed against his._

He was beginning to drift off to the comforting patter of rain on the roof when he felt an electric shock shoot through their connection. "What is it?"

"Where the _bloody hell_ did you get that?" she demanded softly, and he raised his head, squinting into the darkening room to see what she was staring at on his bedside table.

"Oh, that. It's uncanny, isn't it? I bought it in a shop—years ago now."

"Uncanny? Ignis, it's identical."

The statuette he'd kept on the corner of his desk ever since he was twelve years old was the first item he'd ever bought with his wages and the only personal item in his apartment that he'd wanted to return for. Ignis had believed Laura to be an Astral because of the statue that had stood sentinel over his dreams for nearly half his life, but after having seen it again and knowing her so well, it was all too clear that the sculptor had held Laura herself in his mind when he'd created it. The artist's choice to use a sparkling marble that caught and reflected the light was a perfect approximation of her skin, not to mention the figurine's remarkably identical appearance to his wife. Ignis never could quite figure out how, but they had somehow managed to find onyx shot through with swirling streaks of dark cobalt to simulate the lowlights of her hair, which flowed in windswept waves nearly down to her elbows. Even her eyes—lapis lazuli shot through with swirls of gold—seemed to sparkle with ancient knowledge, bringing the goddess to life in a way that had spoken to him there in that little shop.

She'd been watching over him all this time, and he hadn't known.

And he finally made the connection.

"The owner of the shop—his father had recently died and was marking down his pieces, which I thought a crime, as he had served as a royal artist for three sitting monarchs . . .."

"Saxum Rufus," she interrupted, a smile coloring her tone. "Good old Saxum Rufus. Well, I take it back. Now there are two statues of me that I like."

"Would you mind putting it away now?"

She stretched just out of his grasp as she leaned forward to touch the base. "Of course," and in a flash of light that seemed to blend in with the lightning from the storm, it disappeared into the safety of her Pocket. "We can put it in our house when we get back to Lestallum."

Yes, for the first time in her life, the statue would fit well in their new home, mixed among the art and photos they'd already chosen and hung together. To him, the space was a perfect reflection of their lives together—beautiful yet meaningful, full yet not too cluttered. Imagining his parents climbing the stairs to their little loft and inspecting their carefully chosen décor before settling into the bed he and Rose shared sent an odd frisson of some emotion he couldn't put a name to.

"Don't worry," Laura said as she snuggled deeper into his side and spread a hand wide over his chest. "Your parents are probably too exhausted to have sex in our bed."

"Bloody hell," he coughed out, "I wasn't thinking that at all . . . until you said something." Searching for something to shake the horrifying thought from his head, he changed the subject. "That's my bloodline confirmed, then. Second cousin once removed to the late Prince and Princess of Tenebrae."

"I think it's time to face facts and accept that you never were a servant, love." Her tone grew distant as she said, "Special enough to be just beyond human, cursed with divine blood."

"But I won't be required for 'the cleansing,'" he confirmed, but a possible idea struck him at his words—tenuous, frightening, but still an option.

"No," she said roughly. "And I can feel what you're thinking already. You can't take his place, Ignis. You don't possess the Power of Eos on your own. You still need the Crystal to wield it."

"I'll never stop trying for him, up until the very last second," he ground out, his fingers tightening on her shoulder. "No matter what it takes, I won't give in."

Her reply was small but terrifying. "For people like us, living isn't always a gift."

The implications of her words were unacceptable, and he didn't wish to start a quarrel with her right now, so he continued on, "With any luck, we'll find something in the library or the Citadel that will set us on the correct path regarding Ardyn or the prophecy."

"Saving his body shouldn't be an issue; a phoenix down can handle the sword. It's fulfilling the Crystal's need for the energy to purge Ardyn and restoring Noct's astral form after it falls apart that we need to solve."

There were countless issues to solve, and unfortunately, saving Noct wasn't even the first on his list. As much as he wanted to dedicate his time solely to solving the mystery, his duty on behalf of the monarchy was to the people first. The backlash from the announcement that Ignis had been named Lord Protector of the Realm had been beyond problematic, and not only because it undermined his already quietly uncertain confidence. Regardless of the people's lack of faith in him, he would perform to the very best of his ability. He couldn't afford not to succeed.

"Mmm, and you would look fantastic with a crown on your head. I always thought so."

The image she sent him—his hair lying flat and mussed and adorned with a circle of gold rising in several jewel-tipped points on his head—intrigued him. But he immediately turned his thoughts away from the reality of ruling. He'd been born an advisor, and he honestly preferred to work in the shadows—appreciated, but not standing out quite _that_ much. Having grown up alongside Noct, he realized that he'd been the one among the two of them with more freedom in life, even if he'd had to do most of Noct's legwork.

"I recall Noct informing us that night in Longwythe that you'd once been a queen. It's odd. I knew what was required of royalty my entire life, and yet, I still felt as though there were some power you all possessed that allowed you to rule. And now . . . well, here I am."

"Sorry, love. Regis and I bumbled along the best we could. We were just as fallible as you . . . probably even more so, as wise as you are for your age."

"I suppose, at the very least, my heritage will ease the doubts the people have somewhat. Perhaps I can prove myself worthy autonomously of the Marshal. We're going to get an influx of Tenebraeans as the region grows too cold to cultivate crops, and having a legitimate representative will only smooth relations."

"You'll prove yourself worthy; I have no doubts about that, but you won't be able to say a word about your heritage should the people choose your father to represent Tenebrae on the Council."

"I suppose you have a point," he sighed. "These next few years will hardly be easy, and even if we do get the situation stabilized, the nature of our task will only grow more difficult with the darkness." He ran his fingers from her scalp down her arm, combing out her soft strands with his fingers as he pressed his lips to her hair. "At least we'll have each other," he said softly.

"Actually . . ."

"I know."

And he _had_ known. From the moment she'd returned from evacuating Caem and he'd witnessed her exhaustion as she'd explained how she'd saved that oak to maintain the area's protection, he'd known he was going to lose her for a time. Perhaps that was the true reason for his fears and muddied thoughts this evening.

"How much do you know?"

"It's only one of the most important lessons I ever learned. Power comes at a cost." He tightened his grip on her, closing his eyes and daring to ask, "How long?"

Her answer was not quite as harsh as what he'd been expecting, but it still stole his breath away. "Two years, maybe? The bond should be much like when you're hunting . . . dormant, but still there. I'll probably wait until after your birthday to start. Maybe a little longer."

He blew out a long breath, attempting to get a grip on his dread. "That's going to take some explaining."

"Then don't explain it. Let them think what they like," she said with a shrug.

"I suppose keeping it quiet may be for the best, if only to keep you safe from Ardyn. I only wish we knew what he was up to."

She grew silent and melancholy for several moments, with nothing but the sounds of storm and breathing between them. Finally, she said, "I'll try my best to be there for you, but you saw what that oak did. It may not be possible."

Again, he closed his eyes against the sight of the little room, burying himself in the light of her thread in his mind. "We'll survive it together, even if it has to be separately."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Ads are taken either from in game or Kingsglaive. American Express can be found in the windows of some of the gas stations, Meat & Meet in Insomnia, while the rest are found in the movie. I also used concept art and freeze frames from KG for references of Insomnia, as the city is far more beautiful and complex in these places than in the game.

Storms bringing daemons is lore from Monster of the Deep. The Tenebraean oak providing the protection for Caem is lore from Comrades.

Ebony-flavored Monster Flakes are a real product in the game.


	84. Chapter 84

" _It'd normally be a scorcher here in Lestallum on a day like this, Thursday morning 12 June 758. Latest reports are in on our sun; still experiencing a reduction in wattage and temperatures. But we're expected to get a decent five and a half hours of sunlight today, so a reminder to all: daemon killing is punishable by a prison sentence unless it's a matter of life and death, folks! Obvious our Lord Protector of the Realm knows what's he's talking about. His Grace is due to deliver a speech on the findings later this week._

" _Next, I wanna take a moment of silence for the three Glaives we lost in an incident outside the Cauthess Depot Tuesday afternoon, where an MA Veles wreaked havoc until it was taken down by a team of Guardians. Experts say that the mech's autonomous motor system had been overridden by daemonic plasmodia. While the Crownsguard member of the Guardian team is in serious but stable condition, the three Glaives succumbed to their injuries later in the day. Even though Signa, Novus, and Latia were all afflicted by the mysterious breakout of amnesia among the Kingsglaive, doesn't mean their sacrifice is worth any less. These protectors of the people deserve our utmost respect for putting their lives on the line every day. I encourage you all to acknowledge their sacrifice."_

The old radio on the corner of his workstation went silent, and Prompto carefully put down the coil he'd been working on to stare down at the rusty and paint-spattered table. Wow. Three Guardians dead—and amnesiac Glaives, at that. It seemed like none of the ones he'd talked to had any family or friends; they just kind of . . . existed. Prompto had seen Latia a few times around Lestallum, and he knew Signa had been responsible for saving King Venetus's life when he'd helped evacuate Insomnia a couple of years ago. But who was really gonna remember them now that they were gone? Would anyone even put their picture on the wall? He'd have to look through his collection to see if he had any of the three of them.

It'd been a long time since they'd lost so many in one operation. This was gonna make things even harder on Iggy, and he'd been handling things pretty well lately, all things considered. He'd even come to Prompto a couple of times when things got to be too much, but here lately, he'd been looking like he'd been run over by a truck.

The roll of wheels on concrete and the quiet clatter of tools on the floor made him look behind him to see Cindy putting her drill down and sitting up on her roller board thingy. She didn't make eye contact with him as she looked down at her boots before closing her eyes with a sigh.

"Did you . . . know any of 'em?" he asked softly, but she only shook her head in response.

"Don' matter though. They deserve mah respect, same as anyone."

" _Services at the Memorial Wall will be held at noon on Saturday for any of those wishing to pay their respects in person. In other news, Tenebraeans are coming to Lucis in droves after an unsuccessful start to the growing season this year. The influence of the Glacian's corpse in conjunction with the reduced sunlight has led to massive reductions in food production over the last two years, leaving the population unable to feed itself. King Venetus of Tenebrae spoke on the airwaves yesterday regarding the matter:"_

" _I'm told that any Tenebraean willing to embrace the Lord Protector's hospitality is welcome here in Lestallum. The Duke assures me that the Eosian Science Institute is working overtime to ensure that this harvest season will be even more successful than last year's."_

" _Any refugees looking for information on relocation should consult Vyv Dorden's guide, available at all ration stations throughout Lucis, Accordo, and Tenebrae. In the meantime, what can you do to help make tomorrow's future brighter? Turn off and unplug all devices that aren't being used—phantom load is a thing, folks! The use of gasoline for recreational purposes is strictly prohibited. Remember: all meteorshard waste is being collected by the EXINERIS ladies to be recycled for thermal purposes, so be sure to collect any pieces you might find on your travels, no matter how small. Most importantly, I know those gray water reclamation systems seem expensive, but it'll help your rooftop farm flourish, and the government is doing its best to subsidize the cost. Water is just as precious as food! Let's not waste a drop!"_

"Wish I'd thoughta that sooner," Cindy sighed from underneath the Gracchus Bellel she'd rolled back underneath. "Laura's idea, I reckon."

"Sania's, actually," Prompto muttered.

"Oh. Any word on where Laura's bin? She still doin' all right?"

Prompto always hated it when she asked this question because he always had to lie to her. "Yeah, she's allllll good. Still on some super top-secret mission thingy for Iggy."

The clinking of metal against metal paused. "Well," she said, drawing the word out, "tell her I said 'howdy' when ya see her, ya hear?"

Yeah, he'd do that. Probably'd cry like a baby the next time he actually got a chance to see her, too, but still he said, "Totally!"

" _. . . with the formal alliance cemented between the Kingsglaive, Crownsguard, Hunters, Altissian troops, and Tenebraean and Niflian military, we've all been wondering the same thing: When will the King's Shield step up and take his place as High Commander? Field-Marshal Cor Leonis cites 'errands and training' as the reason he's still covering for the Shield, but so far, no timeline has been established for taking the reins. This comes as a surprise to those championing General Amicitia's heroic rescue of a Fallstar Farms transport, including the driver and four Guardians, near the abandoned Meldacio Hunter Headquarters two weeks ago."_

"I still wanna know what that truck was doin' all the way out there. Ain't no farms that way, and that thing's smashed to bits," Cindy complained. "Gonna take me forever to git her back to some kinda operable."

"Yeah," Prompto laughed uncomfortably, "but they're not gonna talk, so I guess we'll never find out."

" _. . . animals and people are competing more and more for resources these days, and as more animal populations lose their minds from the scourge and have to be taken out, the public is looking to ESI and Doctor Sania Yeagre for answers about the future."_

" _We're working hard over here to institute Dr. Scientia's 'Noah's Ark' plan to save a sample population of the species for the ecosystem and for farming purposes, but we're still running into problems with the ones still out in the wild. They're drawn to the high voltage of EXINERIS lines, attacking them right alongside the daemons. It's slowing down the progress to get the grid back up, and if we aren't careful, we could lose the whole communications grid, too."_

" _Any chance that these plasmodic bacteria nests you've discovered are the sources of the issues, Dr. Yeagre?"_

" _Absolutely. These nests, which I've coined 'niduses' cause daemons to spawn, infect animals, and release photophilic particles in the air. As far as I can tell, they sometimes appear in areas of high concentration of Starscourge, and sometimes for no reason at all! Destroying these things as soon as they crop up can help stem the spread of the plague. No license needed for that now, ya hear? These things do worse damage when they exist."_

" _As the scourge spreads among the people, skeptics are claiming that the outbreak marks the end of days, but believers in the prophecy of the True King are claiming that the darkness portends to the onset of its fulfillment. Both sides concede that the fate of the Chosen remains conjecture. Only time will tell._

" _Next up, Air-Marshal Aranea Highwind returned to Lestallum yesterday after a top-secret mission. The Council of the United Nations of Eos refuses to answer as to her whereabouts for the last two years, but she is expected to be training Guardians in Lestallum for the time being._

" _Finally, a reminder to be sure and report anything suspicious to your local Guardian or UNE Councilmember. There's still a reward out there that has yet to be collected for any information regarding former Niflian Chancellor Ardyn Izunia. But remember: this man is highly dangerous and should not be approached under any circumstances._

" _Well that's it for your Update with Upton. Stay safe out there, folks!"_

The airwaves went dead again, this time until tomorrow, and Prompto reached over the scattered filaments, wires, and pliers on his workbench to turn the radio off before the battery went dead. That was the kinda stuff comic books and movies didn't really think about when it came to the apocalypse—no more music. Now that he was living it, it made him long for the days when he'd spend hours in the Regalia driving Iggy nuts with the radio or downloading stuff on his Librapod. Music was part of why he liked visiting Lestallum so much now, since there was always someone or a group of someones on the street corners playing the same song over and over again on one instrument or another, but it just wasn't the same.

He couldn't even listen to music or play games on the cell phone he'd picked up when they'd returned from Gralea. Maybe that was a sign he was officially a grownup now—business calls.

But Prompto guessed there were some benefits to the garage always being silent—like Cindy taking to chatting with him more and more. She must've not been used to the quiet either, cause she was always complaining at whatever she was working on, humming to herself, or telling him the latest joke she'd heard from a passing Guardian.

He could tell she missed Cid; he bet they were always teasing and griping at each other as they worked.

"Oh, shoot, I forgot I told Gladio I'd have that generator ready for 'im this mornin'," Cindy said, her arms and legs going limp as she lay collapsed beneath the Bellel. "He's been deliverin' 'em to all the havens to supplement the runes. Guess they ain't as powerful as they usta be."

Prompto set the needle-nose pliers he'd just picked up back down on the workbench and spun to face her as she rolled out from underneath the car. It wasn't like he was making any progress on these meteorshard headlights anyway. Even when they got it to work, the coil would use up so much energy as it slowly warmed up to full power that it would sap the shard dry immediately. And from the looks of things, they weren't ever going to have the tech or materials available to reverse engineer more than four or five pairs of the Regalia's daemon-repelling lights.

"Wait, Gladio's coming this morning? When?"

He jumped up from his stool when he saw her head over toward the generator in the corner, waving her away as he hefted the handles and wheeled the heavy motor next to the car in her little circle of lights. It didn't matter that they were the highest priority on the list to get power restored since Ardyn had taken the whole grid down a couple of years ago. They needed chocobos and a hell of a lot of firepower to run brand new lines out to them, and with Wiz's completely torn apart and the chocobos scattered to all the outposts with power, there weren't enough people with the know-how to train them. Until then, they were getting by with fuel from the nearby refinery in exchange for some extra muscle to keep their generators running.

"Should be here any time in the next hour or so."

"Aww, man, Iggy's stopping by. He's heading into Insomnia today."

Cindy looked up suddenly at his words, her expression carefully blank, but her bright green eyes were glittering with some kinda secret knowledge. Six, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen—all golden hair and shiny sun-kissed skin, even though there was barely any sun out. There was nothing he wanted more than to show her how much he'd worship her if she'd only let him, but two years of running escort missions, keeping Hammerhead daemon-free, and working with her here in the shop seemed to have friend-zoned him more than anything else.

Which really, really sucked.

"That's still goin' on, is it?" she asked innocently, bending to stick her hand down deep into the motor. She pulled back and inspected her fingers, rubbing the black oil between her thumb and index finger with a grimace.

Prompto narrowed his eyes at her casual tone but didn't call her out on it. "Yeah, don't think it's gonna end any time soon," he chuckled falsely. "You know how stubborn Gladio can be."

"Ignis ain't exactly the surrenderin' type, neither," she said with a smile, leaning over to wiggle a stretch of cracked tubing. She jerked her head in the direction of the Bellel. "Ya mind finishin' her up fer me? Gotta backlog a mile long since the place in Lestallum can't git the tools and facilities we got. Pawpaw's bin spittin' nails fer a better weapons upgradin' setup, but there ain't much they can do."

He managed to snap his mouth shut before it dropped open too far. He hoped he didn't look like an idiot. "Really?" Maybe he'd been wrong and was making some progress with her after all, if she was willing to trust him with her work like this. "Yeah! Count on me!"

Prompto managed to sit down on her roller thingy without looking like too much of an idiot, which he considered a big win already, and rolled himself up under the car to see where she'd left off reinstalling the new radiator after a group of Hunters ripped it out running over a flan last week. Even though he and Cindy had spent most of their time scrubbing the front of the car free of blindingly pink daemon scourge in their spare time, the thing would probably always reek of rotten daemon flesh—kinda bitter and cloying in a way that clung to his nostrils long after he'd left the garage, like burnt sugar.

The thing was that even though he wasn't above this kinda work, they didn't have much time to be doing stupid stuff like that anymore. Every job these days required knowing how to use a weapon, and people like him and the other Guardians could only double up on professions to a certain extent. When Prompto wasn't helping Cindy with the bulbs or keeping all the cars and farm equipment running, he was running his guns on escort missions or patrolling the fence lines at night on the lookout for daemons. Even his so-called free time was spent trying to come up with more efficient ways to use meteor dust and drawing up plans to use wind and water power in places like Caem so they wouldn't have to wait on the new chocobo lines to get restored. Trips to Lestallum these days were filled with more training from Gladio, Cor, and the Guardians before he had to head out to the square to learn more about upgrading weapons from Cid.

This was the kinda stuff he should've been learning in school all those years ago in Insomnia. Fat lotta good his history classes were doing him now.

An image flashed over the backs of his eyelids as he blinked—him and Noct slumped over their desks with a game of hangman or moogle bait as Ms. Cornus droned on in the background about what Niflheim did to Tenebrae hundreds of years ago. A bullet lodged in his chest at the memory, and he scrunched his eyes tight and shook his head roughly, willing the image to go away. Noct was safe in the Crystal—Iggy and Laura had promised. But even when he did finally come back, only the four of them knew he wasn't ever really coming back. It was like mourning for a friend that wasn't dead yet, and Prompto found these stabbing flashbacks weren't getting any easier to deal with over the years.

"Oh yeah, forgot to mention—Penelope's stoppin' by late this afternoon to pick up some radios I fixed up for her. They're sittin' on that third shelf in back. Think _you_ should be the one to give 'em to her when she gets here."

That familiar, nauseating feeling reared up in his chest right alongside the hurt, but he managed to chuckle through it. "Sure, no prob!"

That was a bad sign, wasn't it? No matter how much time he spent with her, no matter how much he tried to let on he was interested, she was never gonna take the bait. Maybe—just once—he'd come out and say it straight. Just this once, and if she turned him down, he could really move on and stop doing the casual dating thing whenever he was in Lestallum.

Now would probably be a good time. It was pretty quiet, and he'd have a good excuse for not seeing her face when she turned him down. But shit, even just _thinking_ about saying it out loud was making him feel like he'd slammed back a case of Ebony.

Pushing aside the nausea and closing his eyes to block out the sight of the radiator over his head, he took the plunge. "I was wondering . . . maybe um . . . later when you're finished?" He dropped his shaking hand to his chest when he suddenly lost the strength to keep holding it up to the underside of the car.

"Ain't never gonna be finished," she scoffed, "but what kin I do ya for?"

"I was wondering . . . if you wanna have breakfast?"

He swore the silence before she started speaking lasted an hour as he lay there on that board underneath that car and fought the urge to throw up right then and there. "Aww, well ain't you sweet?" she laughed, and the sudden inflation of hope buoying in his chest made him wanna float away until she spoke again. "Yeah, if you're goin' anyway, thanks! Bring me back some oatmeal with some sugar on top? Takka knows how I like it."

"You got it, girl!"

Sounded like his princess was in another castle, as much as he didn't want to admit it, and the idea hurt more than he thought it would. He shut his mouth and took a few slow, deep breaths, begging his heart to slow down so he wouldn't be sick all over the place. After a while, he was able to swallow the rock in his throat and get back to work wrestling the cooling fan back into place, but it was slow going with his hands still trembling. Prompto kept quiet as he finished up, listening to Cindy chatter away at the generator like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. He used to always love the melodic dips and curves of her accent filling their little garage, but it was kinda grating on his nerves this morning for some reason.

Radiator installed, cooling fan spinning freely, he rolled out from underneath the Bellel just as he heard Iggy's voice saying his name.

"Prompto."

He just barely remembered to put the brakes on the little rolling cart thingy before leaping up to greet him. "Hey, man! Wassup? How're things goin' over there in Litstallum these days?"

Judging by the dark and lined bags under his eyes as he approached the circle of lights, Iggy didn't really need to answer. Prompto got plenty of shit for being Insomnian and official best friend to the missing King, but it seemed like a national pastime for everyone to drop their issues off at Iggy's feet. Even though Iggy'd been leading them all as King Regent of Lucis in a way Prompto had to admit Noct wouldn't've been able to do, he'd been catching all the hate since he'd taken over—for King Mors scaling the Wall back before they were even born, King Regis ignoring the outlanders their whole lives before losing the kingdom, and now Noct for not being around.

Prompto knew he wouldn't say a word in front of Cindy, so he jerked his head toward the door he'd just entered and said, "Come outside."

"I don't wish to pull you away from your work," Iggy said with a frown, but he still took a few casual steps back toward the door as Prompto followed. "I merely wanted to check in before we set out."

"Nah, was gonna go get some bee-fast anyway," he replied, slapping him on the shoulder and pushing him a little to encourage him toward the door. Prompto led him out into the weak, chilly light, shivering in his sleeveless red tee, but the cold wasn't enough to summon his jacket for the few minutes this was gonna take. He decided the best approach was to gauge Iggy's mood first before asking after him or Laura. "You run into much trouble gettin' here?"

"A few daemons out on the roads, but we were able to maneuver past without incident."

Well, that told him pretty much nothing. He was never any good at these games like Iggy was. "How're things?"

"Relatively well, all things considered. Due to the lower population in Altissia, they've been able to maintain a decent standard of living, with enough room to farm and enough hydroelectric power to light the region. We're keeping the news quiet, however, to prevent refugees from moving back and destabilizing the area."

"Holly's kinda worried about having enough meteor shards left after a decade or so. We're tryin' to come up with alternative sources here, but no luck so far," Prompto said as he rubbed at the back of his neck. He bet if someone really smart like Iggy'd had time to research it with Cindy instead of him, they'd have figured something out by now. "Lestallum doesn't have any rivers and isn't really windy, so we might have to relocate everyone after a while."

"We could begin building a facility by the river to the north, but it wouldn't be enough to power the entire city, let alone all of Lucis." He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a weary sigh. "We'll be fine so long as we keep finding shards. They were spread far and wide during the War of the Astrals, so it's all a matter of looking. We may have to resort to mining the larger chunks in the Lestallum crater and in what's left in Cauthess as a last resort."

"I'd feel a lot better if Titan had left that rock behind. Think maybe we could use that thingy in Costlemark's basement for power?"

"No. It relies on the sun, remember? It's the sole reason why I have to explore those sites one final time for information on the scourge or Ardyn before it becomes too dark for them to open anymore."

Prompto stopped shifting back and forth in an attempt to keep warm and instead tugged on Iggy's elbow to lead him farther away from the side door where Cid's old lounging chair still sat. If Iggy wasn't gonna take the hint and start talking about what he really wanted to know, he guessed he was just gonna have to ask directly.

"How's Laura?"

Iggy's eyes dropped to a crack in the pavement. "The same," he said in a clipped tone. "I don't expect the situation to change for another few months."

Prompto's mouth fell open in surprise. Literally every other time Prompto had asked about her, he'd gotten blown off with a 'She'll be fine.' Any attempts to ask questions beyond that were usually like talking to a brick wall, so Prompto had stopped trying about a year and a half ago. Could he maybe push his luck today?

"Why'd she have to do it this way?" The work she was doing was vital to keeping them all alive, but he hated how alone Iggy was. With Prompto here in Hammerhead, Gladio not speaking to him, Laura gone, and Iggy's parents being . . . well, parents, he was pretty much carrying the world on his shoulders by himself. There _had_ to be a better way. "Couldn't she . . . I dunno, use her stones or leave the world like she did last time?"

"The stones she brought are depleted, save for the ones she gave us, and she refuses to use those for our sakes." A hint of a smile spread his lips a little wider. "She can be the most infuriatingly stubborn woman when she sets her mind to it." He hesitated a moment, his eyes shifting down and away again. "After what happened last time, we didn't think the risks were worth it to return to her home universe after each session, given the nature of our operations here."

"Yeah," Prompto agreed. It seemed like any time she used gold magic, there was some kinda disastrous consequence for it, and he guessed her returning to Lucis every three months or so completely spaced out after a twelve-year absence would've been pretty nuts. He softened his tone when he spoke his next words, careful to keep them free of any kind of pity that would clam Iggy up, but letting him know he was there for him if he needed it. "How're you doing with all that?"

A deep wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as he frowned. "I'm managing just fine. We wouldn't be seeing much of each other regardless, what with our duties pulling us into separate spheres."

"Yeah, speaking of, what's got you going back into Insomnia? Thought food and tech and stuff was pretty much all cleared out."

"My mother's research. As it turns out, information on an assassination attempt almost twenty-five years ago may be beneficial to us, so I'm taking her, Y'jhimei, and Talcott into the city to retrieve it."

"That's a lotta rookies, and this would be Talcott's first mission, right?" he said doubtfully, looking over to the diner-slash-hunter station. "You need me to come as backup?"

Even though the public didn't know the full story behind Ardyn yet, he'd never understand why Iggy insisted on doing all these sensitive missions himself. Cor had freaked out a couple of times about 'the Lord Protector' risking his life on all these secret missions when he had an entire army at his command. He guessed Laura wasn't the only stubborn one.

"I appreciate the offer, but I can only leave when everything else is operating at peak efficiency. You're a vital part of that. And this team . . . we'll need to take additional precautions so as not to be caught out when night falls, but I have faith in their abilities."

"Figured Y'jhimei at least would be good at the whole workin' in the dark thing—with the whole . . . cat thing."

"She's a Seeker of the Sun," Iggy said matter-of-factly, like that would explain everything.

A shuddering clatter of metal on metal made the both of them look up suddenly, hands tensing at their sides in preparation for an attack, but the sight of an old Crownsguard SUV being let through the gate by one of the guards saw them both softening their stances as they relaxed. Prompto leaned forward, trying to squint through the dark tint to see if he could identify the driver, but all he could make out was an enormous shadow. That didn't necessarily mean Gladio was driving, but knowing his luck . . ..

"Hey," he said, pointing back toward the side door. "Come inside real quick. I got something I gotta give you."

Iggy's eyes darted back to the diner, where Trina, Talcott, and Y'jhimei were stepping out the front door and heading in the direction of the garage, then back to the SUV, which was stopped just inside the gate. "Best make it quick."

With both Laura and Noct so far away, Prompto's access to the armiger had been reduced to his section alone, which pretty much left him able to store clothes and arms and nothing else. He figured he was still pretty lucky, since most people didn't even have that much these days, but it was weird having to put things somewhere and remember where he'd left them. But since he'd been terrified he was gonna accidentally put a rusty wrench on top of these all day, he had no trouble remembering where he'd placed this particular gift for Iggy.

"I uh . . . kinda dunno if this is good timing, but Vyv owed me a favor, and I wanted to give these to you before they got ruined . . . you know, for your photobook." He led Iggy around Cindy's space to his workbench and stood on his tiptoes to reach the highest shelf. With a little hop, he grabbed the stack of photos he'd brought over from his place this morning before handing them over to Iggy with a grimace. "They were part of the last batch I took before . . . you know."

Prompto had gone back and forth a bunch of times debating whether he should give these to Iggy—either reminding him of everything he didn't have right now or reminding him of everything they were fighting for. He still didn't know if he'd made the right decision when Iggy sucked in a quick breath through his nose, his eyes widening as his hands paused over the image of him and Laura sitting on that bunk in Zegnautus with their new rings sparkling on their hands.

"My parents have been asking to see these," Iggy said under his breath, flipping to the next photo of the five of them together. A pained grimace spread over his face as he let out a little groan in the back of his throat. "And I can hardly show them, can I? We're all in our bloody underpants." But his eyes darted up to meet Prompto's as his voice grew soft. "Still . . . thank you, Prompto. I appreciate it more than I can say."

"No sweat, Ig," he said with a warm smile. For a split second, Prompto thought Iggy had lit the photos on fire when a bright flash of light made them disappear between his hands. He flinched at the silver flare and whoosh of wind. "Whoa! When'd you learn do to that?"

"It's . . . complicated," he said, narrowing his eyes. Reaching underneath his collar, he plucked out a familiar silver chain—Laura's sapphire and mythril pendant swinging from the end. He held it there just long enough for Prompto to register what it was before tucking it back beneath his shirt. "She's allowed me the use of her necklace to assist me in accessing her Pocket while she's indisposed. It comes in handy."

"I bet. Since you got that, think you can pick up any Nif stuff if ya happen to see it while you're out? Gotta do some runs myself to see what kinda tech I can find. Looks like the bastards took all the MT generators when they pulled out though."

"Surely you aren't going alone."

"Nah. Got some Guardians I'm taking with me to Fort Vaullerey to see what we can find. Gotta stop in Old Lestallum so I can interview Johnny Crow for you guys about your mysterious Kenny. Guess he's been selling those costumes to people, so the culprit might be harder to track down than you think."

"I don't believe the diner manager's name is truly Mr. Crow, but I do appreciate your assistance nevertheless. I can't apprehend this Kenny, as he's done nothing wrong, and yet we'd very much like to ascertain his identity."

"Yeah! No prob! It's like trying to find out the secret identity of a real-life superhero! And hey," he said lowering his voice in case Iggy's group was close to coming inside, "if Y'jhimei does good, maybe I can take her on the next one, since she already knows Perpetouss."

"I'll bring up the matter on this mission and see if she's amenable. With our stores of potions so limited and no way to make more until Noct returns, I'd be relieved to know you're taking along a talented healer."

They stopped speaking as the squeak of the side door followed by the heavy thunk of boots on concrete caught their attention. As much as Prompto wished it was one of Iggy's group, he had a feeling they wouldn't be so lucky. Iggy's tall frame was blocking the newcomer from Prompto's view, but his eyes darted over to Cindy in time to see her look up from the generator and smirk in triumph at the new arrival.

She just didn't understand that this wasn't gonna help anything.

"Well, well, well," Gladio sang in a sly, condescending tone that reminded Prompto so much of Ardyn that he had to look to Iggy to make sure it actually wasn't. "Our Lord and Master descending from on high to visit us plebs down here in the mud for his top-secret missions. You sure you're not too good to speak to our Prompto here, Your Grace?"

"Gladiolus," Iggy greeted with a voice like ice as he straightened and turned.

"Stop it," Prompto cut in, hoping he could put a stop to this before they started another shouting match like the day they'd left Tenebrae for Lucis. He did his best to glare up at a smirking Gladio. "Your generator isn't ready yet, so why don't you wait in the diner while we finish it up for you?"

"Naw, I'm good here, thanks," Gladio said, his smirk widening to a grin. "So! Where's the little woman these days, huh? Still busy playin' gardener when we got people dyin' left n' right? Ya see, I talked to Sania, and ESI hasn't made any headway on the scourge in almost two years, besides her own work."

"If you were truly concerned for Laura's wellbeing, you'd visit your own estate and check on her," Iggy replied in a soft, smooth tone.

"And why should I do that? You don't got Noct to mother anymore. I figure since we're doin' so good on food we almost don't need rations, you got her shacked up there playin' Mrs. Homemaker. It's time she got her ass in gear and started working on the scourge."

"Gladio," Prompto interrupted. "You know that's not tr—"

"And you're not doing much except to pacify the civs with a government, but then you're disappearing off to gods knows where to do gods knows what with those tombs and your secret research. Two most brilliant minds on this planet—wasting their time while people die every day in this war."

"You know very well what I'm doing in those ruins. And this has nothing to do with the scourge," Iggy shot back. "This is about Zegnautus. When will you let petty grudges go? For once in your life, why can't you trust someone other than yourself?"

"Cause I go by the info I can see, and what I see is good Guardians being killed left and right while the two most powerful people in the world play King and Farmer's Wife. I manage all my work. Why can't she do her research while working on the crops? Why can she show mercy for that asshole but not the people out there risking their lives?"

"You're so . . ." Iggy began, heat rising in his pale cheeks as he stepped forward and searched for his next word, " _blinded_ by this pettiness that you've forgotten the _one_ lesson we've learned on this journey of ours!"

Gladio took a step forward as well, his fist clenching into a ball at his side. "Oh yeah, and what's that?!"

"You absolute bloody _moron_ ," he spat, his own fist at his side twitching.

Without giving it a second thought, Prompto stepped between them—even if it meant being punched in the face—just to keep them from coming to blows right here in the garage. Since Gladio was the one being a dick right now, he chose to face him and fix him with his fiercest glare, but Gladio didn't look at him as he continued to stare Iggy down.

"Ignis," a woman's voice gasped from behind them all, and the three of them turned to see Trina stepping away from Y'jhimei and Talcott. "Language!"

"Noct wouldn't want us fighting like this you guys," Prompto added.

The hiss Iggy tossed over Prompto's shoulder was enough to still everyone in the room, including Cindy, who was sashaying up to the three of them with a pipe wrench slung casually over her shoulder.

"Power always comes at a cost."

Five people stood in frozen silence, eyes darting around at one another to see who would speak first while the remaining two kept their blazing, furious attention locked on one another.

Cindy was the one to break the spell and speak first. "All right, you two, gonna have to ask one of ya to wait outside if ya can't behave like gentlemen. Pawpaw'd have a conniption fit if there was fightin' in here."

Without breaking eye contact with Iggy, Gladio growled, "I'll be waitin' in the diner. Come get me when it's ready." Without another word, he spun on his heel, pushed past a gaping Talcott and Y'jhimei, and slammed the side door open.

Iggy's face seemed to melt, transforming from hard and glittering to blank and placid faster than a traffic light. Turning to Cindy and bowing his head a little, he said, "You have my most sincere apologies. Such a display was most unbecoming."

"It was my fault," she admitted with a frown as she leaned into her hip. "Thought if you two got to talkin' agin . . .."

"I see," Iggy said gently, but his lips turned down into a stern frown. "Unfortunately, our quarrel is old and such that a short liaison isn't sufficient to alleviate it. These things mend themselves with time."

"Sometimes ya don't got time," she replied softly. "Sometimes now's all ya got."

"I understand. Truly, I do, but the offense doesn't lie with me in this case."

Trina stepped forward into the light, her light brown hair swinging around her chin as she shook her head at Iggy accusingly.

"Laura's been working on a farm? Why didn't you say something? Of _all_ the times we've asked!"

"She's working on a lot of things, mother," Iggy responded patiently, but Prompto knew that if this had been Noct, he'd've been pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation by now.

Trina let out a little huff, blowing her bangs up dramatically. "She _should_ be by your side! All these awful rumors going around about her . . . about the both of you." She turned to Prompto, who took a nervous step back. "Have _you_ seen her? No one has in over two years, and he won't say what's happened. And no one seems to know anything about her, past or present."

"Um . . .."

"May we _please_ discuss this at a later time?" Iggy said, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

"Always a later time with you!" This time, she took a step closer to Prompto, staring him down until he was forced to meet her fiery green eyes. Seriously, he could see the resemblance, and he half-wondered if she was about to put a dagger to his throat. "Is he secretive about his childhood with you, too? The hours I've spent trying to learn something of my son, and all I get are stories about Prince Noctis."

Prompto couldn't help but glance over at Iggy, who was standing tall and stiff with his jaw clenched tight. Yeah, Prompto could probably guess why Trina had heard more about Noct as a kid than Iggy himself, but he was at a loss for how to answer the hecteyes staring him down.

"Umm . . .."

"Hey, Your Majesty?" Talcott asked hesitantly, stepping forward to touch Trina's elbow. "Why don't we go wait in the truck?"

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea," Y'jhimei added softly.

It was only after they'd spoken that Prompto really noticed the other two standing behind Iggy and Trina. Talcott's eyes were large and pleading—older than they should've looked for a ten-year-old kid in a way that reminded him sadly of little Iggy. He looked like he was about to join the now non-existent Crownsguard in that black t-shirt, leather jacket, and jeans.

"Hey, buddy! You're lookin' pretty bada—" He cut off the end of his word just in time as Iggy tilted his head and raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Pretty rad!"

"Thanks," he said softly, still leading a reluctant Trina away.

And Y'jhimei had also completely changed her look since he'd last seen her a year ago, ditching her skirt and crop top for something more like Noct's old Miqo'te costume—with knee-high boots, poofy pants, and a black-and-white shirt unbuttoned at her navel. Even the book at her side had been exchanged for a shortsword, but the most dramatic difference was her expression. She'd grown hard and solemn since they'd left her at Perpetouss over two years ago—her formerly luminous hazel eyes now dull and her ears drooping with the kind of permanent weariness Prompto often saw on Ig.

Seriously, everyone looked as tired as he felt these days, but he wasn't gonna give up.

"Hey, Y'jhimei!" he greeted brightly with a wave and a smile, which she quietly returned. "It was good seein' you all! Make sure you stop by on your way back and visit, 'kay?"

"Sure! I'd like that," Talcott called back, turning to look over his shoulder. "See ya when we get back."

Iggy waited until they'd gone through the door and Cindy had gone back to the generator to speak. "I shouldn't have allowed him to goad me like that."

"Maybe you should take a break after this. Head to the farm just to be with her a couple days."

"Not for another couple of months, and I have business to attend to in the meantime."

"I know you're trying to save the world here," he said seriously, placing a hand on Iggy's tense shoulder, "but it's okay to ask for help, too. Not gonna be able to help any of us, including Noct, if you get . . . hurt."

Iggy reached up and grasped his shoulder for a second before stepping away. "I do appreciate your concern, but honestly, I have matters well in hand. We're very nearly through this."

"Thank Six," Prompto sighed. Maybe Iggy could handle all this shit without Laura, but he wasn't perfect, and Prompto would feel a lot better about him having someone he'd let help him at his side again. "Just . . . you know where to reach me if you need anything."

He'd already turned toward the door, but he looked back at Prompto's parting words, squinting a little as he inspected him carefully. "Do you know? I think I just might," he said with a lighter smile and a wave. "Take care."

"Yeah, you too."

Prompto waited until he heard the rumble of the engine and rattling of the gate before he closed his eyes and released a sigh. Was it really his place to tear Gladio a new one? For the first time in his life, Prompto didn't think Iggy had done a good enough job, so he pulled his back straight and marched past Cindy, out the door, and toward the diner, his bravado just as false as his cheer always was, but since when did that ever make a difference?

It was just as dim inside the diner as it was outside, with most of the lights and appliances off. No one came here for a fun meal anymore, more for a quick bite before heading back into the war zone. Tables and booths had been removed to make room for radio transceivers and crates filled with disaster relief supplies, but the stools at the counter that lined the outer ring of the restaurant were still there, which was where Gladio was plopped as he stared out toward the garage like that was gonna make Cindy fix the damn generator any faster.

Prompto quickly scanned the room and behind the counter to find that they were alone; Takka must've been in the back room canning the extra beans they'd gotten in a shipment the day before, so Prompto didn't bother to lower his voice as he stumbled to a stop right behind Gladio.

"I think you're acting like a shithead," he said, his knees trembling but his voice steady. "Noct wouldn't want you guys fighting like this, and what you just said to him back there? You gotta know how outta line you were. It's not like he wouldn't rather have Noct on the throne, and taunting him about Laura's just fucked up, man."

"We don't got a fucking clue what Noct would want right now, cause Noct's asleep in Gralea. Cause we left him behind with that fucking psycho."

"Well, I know. They've been right about everything so far. Why can't you just trust them that the food shortage is more important than the scourge right now?"

"It's like Insomnia all over. They're gettin' stuck up in their towers, not seein' the people getting killed or infected every gods damned day, not seein' the sacrifice. Don't even get me started on the quarantine."

Prompto shuddered at the word, trying to push away the cold, creeping feeling crawling over his skin at the sound alone. "Have you seen it yourself?" he asked, already wishing he hadn't.

Gladio let out a long breath and rubbed at his scalp with both hands, the movement making a sandy, gritty sound as his thick fingers flicked back the short strands. "Yeah. Had to turn in a few myself," he muttered, closing his eyes. "I fucking hate hospitals."

Prompto slid up onto the stool next to him, letting his legs dangle back and forth as he leaned in to bump Gladio's shoulder. "I'm sorry. You okay there?"

"Yeah . . . we're just . . . too much to do and not enough people. We could use you in the Guardians, but I know the shit you got goin' on here's vital, too."

Prompto wanted so badly to share with someone how he wasn't sleeping anymore, how he'd get up in the middle of the night to scribble notes about ideas for making the wind turbines more efficient on a pad by his bed, how he didn't even recognize his own head space anymore. After so long on the road with the four of them, he hated admitting just how alone he felt out here in the sticks constantly trying to impress an unmovable Cindy. But one look at Gladio's bloodshot eyes and sagging skin told him Gladio was no better off than Iggy. This was just how things were for them now, and bitching about it wasn't gonna help anybody. They'd gone through hell on the road trip together and Prompto had managed to hold the mask to his face. Why should he stop now? He picked the lightest of his chores to talk about, hoping to cheer Gladio up a little.

"Got more to do now, too. You know Saracchian showed up with the other four? Got 'em out back trying to grow mushrooms on their poo cause Iggy said we need more sources of vitamin D. Can you believe what it's come to?" he laughed, and the chuckle that escaped Gladio's lips was enough to tell him he'd done his job. He let his tone grow softer as he said, "What they do is vital, too. You'd see that if you weren't so mad."

"Yeah . . . listen, I gotta get going. Gonna go check on that generator and see how Cindy's doin'," he groaned as he slid out of his stool and tugged on the ends of his jacket. "Takin' a couple a rooks out to Keycatrich to get those generators we saw in the mines last time."

Prompto twisted his lips into a grimace, a little unsettled at the idea that both Iggy and Gladio would be out with rookies for the next couple of days. "You'll be careful, right? Isn't that mission kinda hard with the dark?"

They'd all noticed that Iggy always ran into way less trouble on missions than the rest of them because of his . . . ability or power or whatever. As a result, working in the dark had become part of their training—moving silently and trying to listen out for daemons while barely being able to see a damn thing in front of them. Seemed like no matter how hard they tried though, they could never work in the pitch black and Laura and Iggy could.

Which was what made going down into the mines such a dangerous plan. Turn the lights on? The daemon infestation was so bad now that they'd be surrounded immediately. Leave the lights off? Couldn't see the hand in front of your face.

"Shouldn't be a problem for these guys, actually. They're both blind."

"Whoa," Prompto breathed, his eyebrows shooting up. "That's . . .."

"Yeah. Ig's idea," he admitted reluctantly. "They may be green, but they're already better in the black than some of my best. Got 'em teachin' us all how to do that shit, cause what Ig's managed to pass on to the Guardians hasn't been much help."

"Well, just be careful," Prompto said hesitantly. "Call if you need, and . . . just think about cutting Iggy some slack."

Prompto winced a little when Gladio's relaxed expression tightened back into a scowl, but Prompto kept his gaze level, silently daring him to say something in his defense. They would've all died after the first year if it weren't for Laura and Iggy, and the Council knew that. Why didn't Gladio?

"I'll let ya know. Gonna be headin' out to Taelpar after this to get some info from Gilgamesh. Figured he's been around the last couple thousand years. Probably knows the story and isn't talkin' like everyone else."

"If you're willing to stop by Perpetouss, we can do the missions together. Save some gas."

"Cool," he said, throwing a hand over his shoulder and turning toward the door.

Prompto waited until he'd stepped outside before turning to Takka's counter with a wistful sigh.

He didn't need to ask. Oatmeal with two teaspoons of brown sugar and a sprinkling of cinnamon.

* * *

Prompto worked in silence for the rest of the day, trying to figure out how he was gonna handle this thing with Iggy, Laura, and Gladio; worrying about Iggy and Gladio being out with rooks at the same time; lining up a schedule for all the stuff he had to do in the next couple of weeks.

And to think there was a time he used to be a clerk at a comic book store.

He needed to follow his own advice and take a break. Get away from Cindy for a little bit, have some fun, and re-evaluate what he was doing with her.

Noct woulda been good for that kinda thing.

Even Cindy had noticed his change in attitude, going silent herself when he didn't offer up his usual cheerful affirmations at everything she said.

Things didn't really start looking up until he heard the light, skipping thuds of boots on the pavement and looked up to see warm, brown eyes crinkling in delight down at him.

"So. You finish that design for that new silencer yet?" Penelope asked, tucking a short, dark curl behind her ear and smiling shyly.

Warmth seemed to trickle from his face down to his toes as he gave her a stupid lopsided grin despite his best efforts to act cool, but she didn't seem to mind as she beamed back. That was totally a good sign, right? She was always so sweet to him—asking about his projects from the very first time she pulled up here in her Hunter's truck looking to get some upgrades. She'd even inspired a couple of silencer designs he'd been working on lately.

Maybe . . ..

"Yeah! Just hoping to pick up some good scraps from this next base run," he gushed, rushing to his workbench, sweeping aside the bulb parts, and grabbing his schematics underneath. "See? I think the design on these baffles here should knock the blast noise down a good chunk."

"Oh, that would be so awesome! It's harder for us gunners out there than anyone else, ya know?"

Watching her eyes light up as she studied the page, as the pinkest, most delicate blush spread across her cheek, he took a chance and offered, "If it's all good when I test it out, I could make you one, too."

"Oh sweet Six, really? That'd be amazing!" she gasped.

Something about that light in her eyes summoned the crystal-clear image of Iggy and Laura standing together in the middle of that hellhole Pitioss, looking so alive at one another. Was this what it had felt like for them?

Seeing Penelope smile like that made his chest feel light for the first time today—made him feel warm like the sun was really out in full force.

He should just go for it.

"S—" he began, but she'd already started speaking.

"S— Oh. Sorry, go ahead."

"No! You go first."

A shy, tender expression crossed her face as she gazed down at the schematics in his hands. "So . . . I was thinking, and I'm sorry if this sounds totally lame, or whatever, but, you wanna grab an early dinner at the diner before I head out?"

His attention snapped to a point just over her shoulder where Cindy stood, her arms crossed and a genuine smile spreading over her perfect mouth. She tipped the brim of her cap to him and winked, and even as it broke his heart, he returned the gesture, doing his best to make it look like he was winking at Penelope, too. But . . . he thought he was done having his heart broken . . . maybe? Maybe if he could throw himself into something with someone who actually liked him back, he could leave his grease monkey goddess behind and grow up.

Yeah, the world was insane, and it was time to grow up.

"I can't stay long; got a lotta work to do here, but yeah. I'd love to."


	85. Chapter 85

**Author's Note:**

Warning: Rated M NSFW toward the end

* * *

It wasn't often Gladio left the house he, Iris, Talcott, Dustin, and Monica shared while wearing anything but his Crownsguard fatigues, but since he had a report due to the Council tomorrow, he was being pulled off the mission roster in order to stay in town to get it finished. Despite being promoted to general, Gladio refused to keep an office. Of course, he was still a little fuzzy on where he ranked in the grand scheme of things after Field-Marshal Cor had redone the ranking system to account for the combined forces of Glaive, Guard, Hunters, Niflian, Accordion, and Tenebraean units, but he knew where he was _supposed_ to be—where he was _expected_ to be—third in line to the throne and in charge of all of it. But there wasn't enough space in town for his own office, and he was never much good itching at a desk and filling out paperwork. He figured the best way to avoid it was to claim he didn't have the facilities and had better, more effective shit to do than writing papers like Iggy did all day.

Sometimes, it couldn't be avoided, though. Since he'd been the only one able to wring some info outta Gilgamesh, that left him with the post-op report. It wasn't like Prompto was gonna do it.

Damned bureaucrats.

An entire morning wasted doing reports when he could've been out on the road making sure he didn't lose any more good men and women—he'd grown restless at the idleness, so he collected his Libratablet and set out to find some lunch. Even though he was a big, badass motherfucker who should've stuck out like a sore thumb no matter what he was wearing, people seemed to look at him a little less as he strolled through the streets in his khakis, a hunter green leather jacket, and a black tank top. Was it really that easy to be forgotten?

He was already starting to get a little fuzzy on the details of some of the Glaives and Guards he'd lost in the last two years before they'd all joined Guardians, so he guessed he shouldn't've been surprised. People were making an effort not to remember anyone these days. Don't get attached, cause they might disappear. It seemed like no one remembered anymore that the house three doors down from them once belonged to an old man obsessed with collecting erasers, but that was before he was sent off to Quarantine and never heard from again. People just stopped existing the second there was no one left to remember them. Not even the Memorial Wall outside Council Headquarters was enough to guarantee a lasting memory.

And ESI or the UNE Council weren't doing much to help the situation besides screaming about unity and making sure there was enough vitamin fucking D to go around.

It wasn't like he was skirting his duty. He'd set up the farm on his family estate in Myrl and handed it over to Laura and Sania with a full team of the best Hunters he could get Ezma and Dave to spare. He taught self-defense and everything he'd learned about urban farming to the civs. And he was being run ragged with Guardian training, his own training, and the never-ending list of escort missions that needed his expertise. He'd worked with General Ezma, Colonel Dave, Fleet Admiral Ricci, and Cor to bring all the factions together under one banner and standardize two training regimens—one for magic and one for non-magic users.

But fucking Vyv and the court of media opinion didn't get that he wasn't ready to take his place at twenty-five as the High Commander of the only military in the entire world. He still had shit to learn from Cor, Ezma, Aranea . . . hell, even a Glaive or two could kick his ass, and he was starting to wonder if Gilgamesh hadn't held back on him during the trial. He'd been sparring with the best of the best since he was a kid, with the best on the planet for a few months, so why wasn't he better? Power wasn't enough; he was starting to think it was down to experience.

'Fear and doubt beget death alone' kept playing over and over in his head. Gladio had made his peace with being the Shield of the King, with stepping out from behind his dad's shadow and preparing himself to succeed and ultimately fail. Becoming a Shield of the people, however, was a whole 'nother animal. No matter what he did, he was always gonna fail at that; he was reminded every time that fucking radio announced another dead Guardian, another dead citizen.

"Take this, brother," a rough-looking dude with bulging blue eyes and wispy brown hair croaked, holding out a brochure and a piece of paper. Gladio didn't stop to ask what it was but took the offered paper anyway with a quick nod of thanks. Most printed things these days were important enough to keep. "But don't forget to recycle if you don't keep it!" he called to Gladio's retreating back.

He glanced down at the paper first, slowing his steps but still keeping his peripheral vision focused on the crowds of people nosing their way through the streets looking for lunch.

 **Urgent Notice:**

 **26 June 758**

 **A Starscourge outbreak has been reported in the following outposts: Cauthess Depot, Old Lestallum, Lestallum. All incoming visitors to these locations must submit themselves for inspection and UV light treatment before they are allowed to enter. All those presenting with symptoms will be required to report to Quarantine. Entrance to all outposts will be at the sole discretion of the outpost UNE subcouncils.**

 **Please keep our cities safe by knowing the stages of infection and reporting any suspected individuals to the Quarantine Division.**

 **Thank you for your cooperation.**

Speaking of failures— _every_ dead subject of his king was his and Iggy's responsibility, even if Gladio couldn't do a thing about the scourge and even if Iggy wasn't pulling his weight. Fucking ESI didn't even know if that UV light shit would work, and with no one actively studying the thing, the number of the dead would continue to pile higher and higher on Gladio's conscience.

Gladio scoffed and threw the top sheet directly in the recycling bin on the corner, where he knew it would hauled off to be pulped, reformed, and used on the next abominable announcement. He kept the brochure though, intending to read through it the second the crowds thinned out a little. The town had only gone off rations two weeks ago, but already, restaurants were starting to pop up again, with people cooking out of their kitchens and passing food through windows for patrons to eat out on the sidewalk. Surgate's Beanmine, Tostwell Grill, and Tozus Counter . . . slowly but surely, Lestallum was starting to look a little like its old self again—as long as one didn't walk too far down the main road to the guarded gates just past the gas station or at the tunnel entrance.

Because he wasn't a xenophobic motherfucker like every hypocrite from every country in this world, he walked right past the Insomnian district without even looking to see what was on offer. Duscaean, Cleignese, Leiden, Accordion, and Tenebraean were all passed up as he left the older districts, crossed the main road, and entered the Pegglar Outlook District for some Niflian fare.

As with Laura, he hadn't seen Aranea for going on two years now, since they'd gotten their load of refugees out of Niflheim and delivered them safe and sound to Lucis. But those days had been weighing heavy on his mind lately, and not just because he'd been hearing her name on the news more and more. He'd been craving this cassoulet dish made from his favorite anak meat that she'd once made for them all, and once he'd found a place that would make it like she did, he'd been stopping by there practically every day for the last week.

Aranea had been in town off and on since she'd gotten back from who the hell knew where last month. Gladio knew for a fact she was around today because the Council suddenly just _had_ to speak to her about something, but he'd had yet to see her since she'd returned from her secret mission.

She could come and find him if she was really interested.

As the crowds on the streets looking for a bite to eat got a little thinner, he opened the little tri-fold pamphlet and skimmed over the contents, looking for any new information.

 **Starscourge Signs and Symptoms**

 **First Stage:** Believed Noncontagious

Symptoms: sudden onset of odd thoughts, muscle spasms, abnormal postures, weakness, extreme sensitivity to bright lights/ sounds/ touch, increased production of saliva or tears, headaches

 **Second Stage:** Believed Contagious

Symptoms: irritability, aggressiveness, insomnia, confusion, hallucinations, seizures, difficulty speaking or remembering words, excessive movements or agitation, black pulsing patches of skin, bulging veins

Note that in late second stage, the hemorrhagic effect of waste products from the virus running its course through the body will cause veins to become more prominent, with this waste eventually leaking out of orifices. The onset of the third stage is swift and imminent at this point.

 **Third Stage:** Almost Certainly Contagious

Patient presents a clear and present danger to the population. Onset is sudden and unpredictable.

Symptoms: exuding black cloudlike substance known as miasma, violent tendencies, near-complete loss of self (varies per individual) before body disappears into the ground in a pool of miasma—leaving personal items behind. Any reappearance is in full daemon form.

 **Quarantine Division requires that all individuals presenting with symptoms at any stage submit themselves to Quarantine for further treatment. Your cooperation is mandatory.**

As he suspected, not a single new piece of information. As much as he wanted to ball the brochure into his fist before lighting it on fire, he saved it for when he'd be passing by that dude again to give back to him.

All that sacrifice . . . and every day they didn't devote their best and brightest to the scourge taking them all down was another day they were all spitting in the faces of those who'd died. Gladio couldn't stand living that life.

He sure as hell wouldn't be needing a copy of this; he knew the symptoms by heart now. It seemed to happen more often to the Hunters than the Glaives and Guards out in the field—the way they'd suddenly stop and tilt their heads at a charging daemon, and the rest of them knew. Confused by their own behavior and often in denial, they'd have to be watched carefully until they started drooling, and then it would be time.

Whether they were calm and accepting or shrieking in protest, Gladio wouldn't shirk his duty there, either, submitting them to Quarantine and walking next to their gurney as far as he was allowed to go. Knowing exactly what was gonna happen and knowing _they_ knew exactly what was gonna happen—it never got any easier to basically be the one to pull the trigger on his own men and women. And it wasn't just Guardians succumbing—the civs weren't any safer.

The late nights, the fluorescent lighting, the stench of antiseptic—the whole thing reminded him way too much of when he was fifteen and his mom had cancer. That smell soaked into his clothes down to his bones, following him home like a ghost and lingering on the back of his tongue even after he'd leapt into the shower and scrubbed himself clean of it. The _only_ way to free the people of this torment was to find a cure—something he couldn't do himself—and the helplessness was eating him alive.

He did everything he could—checking with Sania at least once a week only to find out once again that she was a fucking biologist and botanist at best, and what little progress she'd made wasn't her fault. He went out of his way on every mission to collect whatever specimen she needed, took notes on daemon populations and migratory patterns, and kept an updated map for her on locations where nidus nests would often spawn.

And the only epidemiologist or anything like it they had on the planet was busy making sure they had enough rice, or whatever. He got that they were in it for the long haul and needed to have the food situation sorted, but fuck, it'd been over two years now. It wasn't like she was out in the fields by herself; she had tons of people from Prissock, Furloch, and Fallstar Farms helping her out, so what the ever-living fuck was she doing the rest of the day? He didn't think she was the type to sidle out of her responsibilities and leave the people to suffer, but after what had happened in Zegnautus, he wondered if he'd ever known just who that creature was. She wasn't human, that was for sure, so she probably didn't have the same sense of ownership over the fear of losing most of their population. Her moral compass had already proven to be pointing in a different direction than his, so he sure as hell couldn't make any assumptions.

And Ig . . . well of course he was gonna side with his wife, wasn't he? The guy needed a serious wakeup call, but it didn't look like screaming at him was gonna make any difference. Gladio could only hope he'd pull his head out of his ass in time to see he'd been wrong. Iggy didn't realize there was no point in saving Noct from his fate if the rest of humanity had perished. He just didn't see the people dying every day—him or his wife—locked up in their government buildings and farms and whatever the hell secret projects they were concocting while they were rooting around in Solheimian ruins.

Then again . . . their little confrontation in Hammerhead three weeks ago had been making him think. Those two were always quiet when things got tough, and they'd never been quieter than now. 'Power comes at a cost,' he'd said, and Gladio had well remembered that day Laura had almost died healing and protecting little Iggy. Those words had frightened him more than he let on, but surely Iggy would've told them if she'd died? He wasn't blind to all the shit Iggy was going through in his position, either—no matter how much Gladio disagreed with him. The idea had crossed Gladio's mind to soften up a bit, maybe be a little more cooperative and influence Iggy with a carrot instead of a stick, but how was he supposed to bridge the gap after so long?

Having reached the secret street corner of the Niflian place that had opened up the day they went off rations, he walked up to the little shuttered window of the salmon-colored house, smirking a little when the blonde sitting at the sill gaped as he leaned in.

"Hello there."

"Um . . .."

His smirk widened into his boyish grin that always got 'em flustered. "An _extra_ -large anak cassoulet, please," he said with a wink.

When she looked away and bit her lip, her light blue eyes turning troubled, he thought he might've come on too strong, so he straightened and took a step back from the window.

"I . . . don't think we have that on the menu," she nearly whispered. "Sorry, it's my first shift on my first day. I just started like, twenty minutes ago."

"Nah, it's all right. It's not on the menu. It's nine hundred gil, but you can ask 'em back there if you want."

"Uh . . . yeah, I better. Give me a sec?" She ducked her head, a pink blush spreading over her cheeks as she smiled before turning and rushing away, her thick hair bouncing in its spiracorn tail.

Even though he couldn't see the kitchen through the archway leading to it, he could easily hear every word the cooks said as they screamed at each other over the sizzle of steaming hot pans.

"Fifth time today, we gotta add that. Yeah. Nine hundred. Hey! Don't throw those carrot tops away!"

"Why? They're fuckin' nasty. Can't make shit fit for the birds outta them," another guy yelled back.

"Today's Wednesday," the first cook said.

Gladio had his money ready to hand off by the time she sat back down at her stool, another bashful smile spreading her pink lips wide.

"Take a seat wherever you like," she said softly, passing a wide, shallow dish through the window.

Gladio let the steam waft up his nose—that comforting spicy, meaty scent already warming him even as the plate began to burn his fingers a little. Without breaking eye contact, he backed up to the rickety bistro table just behind him and leaned back comfortably into the shitty plastic chair they'd placed on the edge of the street corner.

"I think here has the prettiest view," he said with a grin as he spooned up some beans and meat. He took a bite and chewed enthusiastically, moaning just a little in appreciation before he spoke again. "You new in town?"

"What's Wednesday gotta do with anything?" the second cook asked.

"Yeah, just came in a month ago," the girl said, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she tilted her head at him.

"Oh yeah? Maybe I could show ya around sometime."

She wasn't smiling when she ducked her head again and said, "Maybe."

He took the hint and backed off. She'd obviously been flirted with enough to know a player when she saw one and wasn't into that kinda thing, and he could respect that. For as much as he got around, he'd always kept it real with the ladies before shit went down—he didn't belong to anyone. It was why Aranea was such a good . . ..

Shaking his head, he dug into his cassoulet, letting those heavy beans and anak meat sit heavy and comfortable in his stomach as the foreign spices warmed him up. It turned out Niflian food wasn't as bad as he'd thought as long as it was homecooked. Between the cassoulet and the socca, he could probably eat here every day for the rest of his life. The fleeting thought that maybe Iggy could eat here and figure out the recipe for him flitted through his head before he shoved it aside. Gladio remembered Laura going nuts over the ratatouille and Iggy over the bouillabaisse when Aranea, Biggs, and Wedge had cooked for them all on the way back from Tenebrae, so he wondered why the hell they'd had to live through Paul's cockatrice nuggets and canned peas before Iggy'd finally put his foot down.

"Cause if that skinny rat bastard's in town, he's gonna be all up in here, checking through the fucking trash after he caught the last guy throwing shit out. Save 'em for another day, or better yet, throw 'em out in the Insomnian District and sic him on them for a change," the first cook said.

"That's just cause Dr. Scientia's on the ESI board in charge of food production," a woman's voice added. "Bet her bitchin' about it day and night is all he hears. Driven him 'round the bend, so we've got the King of Lucis, or whatever fake title he's given himself, digging through the trashcans of honest, hardworking people."

Gladio sat up a little at the mention of Laura's name, frowning. He'd heard people talking shit about Iggy pretty much every day since they'd gotten back. It was just something that happened to people in charge. One of the first lessons he'd learned from his dad after his first fight at the private school he'd attended was that people were gonna judge and complain no matter what decisions were made, and it was best to keep his head down and carry on, because kicking everyone's ass who said something terrible about his dad or the King was only gonna make the both of them look worse.

Funny enough, it wasn't Ig's leadership most people complained about. It was usually the age thing, Cor turning into his lapdog, or Iggy possibly having murdered Noct to take the throne for himself. Shit like that had died down over the past couple of years once they'd seen how fast things had gotten organized, but this was definitely the first time Gladio had heard any rumors about him and Laura as a couple. That girl was a damned master at staying under the radar so well that it seemed like most people forgot she existed most days.

Torn between wanting to hear what outsiders were thinking and wanting to leap through the window to demand they shut the fuck up, he sat in silence with his lunch, shoving the food down robotically so as not to waste it, but the formerly comforting meal was now sitting like a rock in his gut.

"I heard he's not even real nobility. Born in the outskirts, which pretty much makes him a Cavaughian outlander pretending to be Insomnian. Worse than an actual Insomnian if you ask me."

"And both his parents dead? It's rather convenient that no one's left to remember this Ustrina Scientia he's claimed as his mother. Seems like everyone in that boy's life came from nowhere. Don't even get me started on his wife."

"You really think she's his wife? I thought he was . . . you know. With the way he dresses and acts and _looks_. I've even caught him in the main square with that Amicitia girl talking about fashion, of all things."

The woman let out a mirthless laugh. "Oh, he's more crooked than a duplicorn horn, and not as a politician, either, if you know what I mean. Nobility's all about producing heirs, and his bloodline has a legit claim to the Lucian throne now. Probably programmed from birth to marry and start breeding if he is who he says he is. So he married the first woman that looked like his precious princeling, but that marriage bed's as cold as Shiva's cunt, I guarantee you."

"Can that really be true though? The locals who lived here when the retinue came through a few years ago said Dr. Scientia was really nice. And the Lord Protector . . ."

"No, she's right. My brother works in Insomnian District. Rumor there has it Prince Noctis's last birthday ball in the Citadel? Cameras caught 'em behind a bush scrubbing at a white patch on the Prince's robes. No way was that shit powdered sugar."

"Yeah, and what about _the wife_? She came outta nowhere. No one knows where she's from, and where the hell is she now? She's practically the Queen, for Six's sake, and no one's seen her for years."

"No title besides his, no background. Thought she was from Insomnia, but Insomnians say they have no idea what house she belongs to. She just appeared one day, sniffin' around Regis, according to my brother. There was a rumor going around the whole city about them just before the Prince supposedly left."

"Ahh, so she was after them Crown jewels, huh?"

"Seems like it. Got herself assigned to the retinue outta nowhere, probably to be close to the Prince."

"Heh. Betcha she offed Lady Lunafreya herself to get a shot at him, but it backfired. Had to settle."

"Got lucky though, didn't she? Bed might be cold, but she's sittin' pretty at the feet of a royal seat on the Council if she can manage to spit out a kid for him."

The only thing that had kept Gladio in his seat at this point was finishing the food that Iggy and Laura had worked hard to put on that table—even if he didn't agree with the shit they were doing—because he wasn't about to let _any_ kinda sacrifice go unacknowledged. He had to remind himself that these ungrateful bastards were made from the same cloth as the asshole he'd gotten his first scar from, and if he hadn't been willing to hurt a Crown citizen then, he sure as fuck wasn't gonna hurt a UNE citizen now, even if he really, really wanted to. No matter how many times he'd gotten the lecture from his dad, though, he'd never gotten used to this kinda thing as a kid—people taking their own views of the world and making stories up about nobles like they knew what their lives were all about.

He'd learned as he got older, however, that revenge could be subtler than a fist to the face. Besides never eating at this particular Niflian establishment again, he could use some of those political contacts he'd made friends with over the years to do some good. Coctura Arlund, who'd been responsible for writing and enforcing food waste practices across Lucis since Iggy'd told them all to start canning when they'd left Altissia, happened to be a good friend of his. As a huge supporter of both Iggy and Laura, Coctura'd have no problems whatsoever sending whoever she had based here in Lestallum to be all up in these people's garbage no matter what day of the week it was. That could be one thing taken off Ig's to-do list.

There was something else Gladio could do, too. That name of his that had often been the subject of badmouthing was also good for tossing around as a weapon, and no way in hell was he gonna sit idly by and let someone viciously attack his brother and sister's personal life, no matter how pissed Gladio was at the both of them.

Plastering a friendly expression on his face, he sauntered up to the window to hand the girl his bowl. None of this had been her fault, after all, and he didn't see the point turning his attitude on her when she hadn't said a word beyond taking the orders of the other customers who'd shown up while he'd been listening in.

"Tell 'em Gladiolus Amicitia said thanks," he said with a wink.

Without waiting for confirmation, he turned and headed back across the street toward the main thoroughfare. That report he'd intended to write at the table when he was finished eating was still nagging at him to be written, so he turned toward the square, hoping to convince Surgate to let him borrow a table if he wasn't too busy. Just after the lunch rush—that meant Iris and Talcott would be out there, maybe even Monica and Dustin at dispatch if they weren't out on a mission.

There were a few seats empty at Surgate's now that the crowds were starting to die down as they headed back to work, so Gladio tossed him a few gil when he said yes to letting him borrow the table for a bit. Sitting down and pulling out his notes and tablet, he began typing, waiting for Iris or Talcott to notice him and come over to pull him away from this task he definitely had no interest doing.

It seemed like whatever deity or fate was in charge of this whole operation about keeping them all in the dark had finally gotten the word out to start talking a little, because when Gladio had returned to the Tempering Grounds—this time with Prompto, Mike, and Libertus—Gilgamesh had been a little chattier than last time. On hearing his story though, Gladio could see why he'd kept quiet all these years.

Gilgamesh fucking Amicitia—founding member of his house, apparently, which made them all related to someone pretty significant in this whole saga now. He was only waiting for confirmation that Prompto was not only the son of the giant electric shaver he'd killed back in Niflheim, but also a descendant to the original king of Solheim or some shit.

Little had Gladio known that the Amicitia line had been founded in disgrace from Gilgamesh's failure in protecting his first charge from becoming a scourge-ridden psychopath and having to turn on him to save Somnus. He'd served out his life as Shield to the Founder King before sealing himself in the Tempering Grounds to offer the Chosen Shield his power when the time came. Of course, that Shield was definitely gonna be an Amicitia, because the bastard had also bound his line to House Caelum in order to fulfill his promise to Somnus when he'd failed the first time around.

The job was still Gladio's honor, but fuck, he hated that he'd been doing it unknowingly as someone else's penance all these years.

 **20 June 758; 0800-0900 Hours**

 _Left crew at entrance to Tempering grounds and passed through Taelpar Crag. Encountered no resistance._

 _Rendezvous with Gilgamesh on the Bridge of Swords approximately 0842H._

 _Requested a full debriefing on the history of Ardyn and Somnus. Informed by Gilgamesh he would only tell that which would bring glory to his king. Subject bias suspected._

 **Gilgamesh Debrief**

 _Somnus Izunia: Aged 30_

 _Ardyn Izunia: Aged 33_

 _Gods and lower lords left of the fallen Solheim seek to select a new ruler from men. Nobles of House Izunia tasked by the gods to rid the scourge with the promise of becoming King—either Somnus (Power of Draconian) or Ardyn (Power of the Blessed Star, more potent than Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret). Given the title and surname Lucis Caelum, a Shield (Gilgamesh), and an Oracle to communicate with gods (no healing, Power of the Zephyrnian). Gods gift the Crystal to Caelum line to protect as a source of light to humanity._

 _No mention of Crystal as Eos's womb._

 _Ardyn enters into arranged marriage with Oracle; believed to be the one named King. Can only heal one at a time. Scourge spreads faster than he can keep up, so Somnus and Gilgamesh institute slash and burn campaign as more effective means. People are divided as tension between brothers rises. Somnus suspects brother's suffering and attempts to call him back home. Somnus appeals to Oracle, who agrees to the possibility of Ardyn's turning and sides with Somnus._

 _Ardyn loses control, reveals his corruption, and kills Oracle. Somnus has him crucified publicly— imprisoned in Angelgard when he doesn't die and struck from the history books._

 _The scourge is dormant—burned away by Somnus. (Suspect full info not given, as discrepancies exist between Cosmogony's tale of the First Oracle and Gilgamesh's report.)_

 _Somnus is officially named King by Bahamut. Messengers give Somnus the Ring to channel the Crystal's powers and begin an ancestral memory, the Crystal to protect, the Prophecy to pass on. Ardyn escapes after Somnus's death and presumed to have been hiding in Niflheim._

"You should've seen it!" a high-pitched voice broke through over the dull roar of the still-busy square, pulling Gladio out of his work. Thank Bahamut's blue balls. "It was completely dark out. I couldn't even see my own dagger in my hand! We heard this hissing sound, and all the sudden, _whoosh_! His daggers caught on fire, and he was moving so fast I could barely keep my eyes on him!"

Chuckling to himself, Gladio shook his head and looked up to find the source of the commotion—seven Guardians all standing in a circle around Talcott with their gear and their weapons slung to their belts as he regaled them all with the tale of their King Regent single-handedly taking out a Nagarani. He'd told the story of his first mission a thousand times—his still childlike voice rising in excitement each time he retold the story of his new hero. The Guardians had all indulged the kid, adopting him as their town crier as he stood in the middle of Lestallum's busiest square and passed news to anyone who would stop and listen.

Gladio didn't know how he felt about the fact that at ten years old, Talcott was already more experienced in combat than Gladio had been at twenty-three. Fuck, they'd been so sheltered and unprepared for what had been coming.

But as Gladio's eyes slid across the square to Iris's booth and spotted her subdued smile, he realized he hadn't been handling _all_ his responsibilities as well as he should've. Their eyes met when she turned in his direction, her smile growing more genuine as she skipped across the square and perched on the edge of the chair across from him.

"Hey, Gladdy! I didn't know you were staying in town today. What're you doing here?"

"Stupid stuff," he grumbled, pointing down at his Libratablet on the table.

To his relief, she giggled. "Good. That kinda stuff's good for you, you know?"

Gladio wondered if that girl knew how much she reminded him of their parents sometimes. Practically identical to their mom physically, cheerful and bubbly and sweet, but when push came to shove, she was as tough as nails—an Amicitia through and through in a way he never could be. She was the embodiment of their family motto: Suck it up and get the job done.

Gladio had to admit he was partially relieved when Cor had held her back; he'd wanted her to be able to fight, not go join them on the front lines. But instead of pitching a hissy fit like she used to as a kid, she'd marched right out of Cor's office and found another path to getting her own way. She'd begged Gladio, and he suspected Laura, to train her, and he'd complied happily because any Amicitia walking around in the world needed to be able to bite back as a matter of family honor.

And then she became a darling to the people of the United Nations of Eos—teaching the younger kids history to help Trina out, making and selling clothes to raise money for charity, and taking some kinda archaeology lessons from Iggy.

He'd been meaning to go to Cor, appeal on her behalf, and maybe let her go on some of the easier missions, but he'd been too wrapped up in his own shit lately to realize how much this Talcott thing was probably getting to her.

"How ya been, kiddo?" he asked with a grin.

"Same as I was this morning, freak," she smiled back with sparkling brown eyes, which warmed his heart to see in times like this. "Sales are doing pretty good today, and Commodore . . . I mean, Air-Marshal Aranea herself stopped by and told me my donations helped find homes for ten Niflian families last month!"

"Huh, so Aranea's in town today, is she?" he asked casually.

"Yeah, she had some top-secret meeting with the Council today, so of course everyone's talking about it." She stopped suddenly, leaning forward as she smiled slyly at him. "Why? Are you pumping me for info? Hot-shot general like you should know this already."

"I do. Just gotta keep in touch with what the people know."

She let out a bratty little huff that reminded him so strongly of what kind of girl she used to be before all this happened that he had to cover his mouth to hide his chuckle.

"When are you finally gonna admit you've got a crush?"

"No, it's just . . . she's kinda like the head of the entire air group, and as a general of the standing army, I'm probably gonna have to spend even _more_ time in pointless meetings if she calls any."

"Gladiolus Amicitia, you're such a liar!" she screeched, standing to slap him on the arm. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"Am not! Anyway, you feel like cuttin' out early? I feel like hittin' something, and I figure it might as well be you."

Her face fell as she turned her head back to her booth, biting her lip. "I can't," she said softly. "The Guardians come back from their missions early afternoon. It's the best time to sell."

"Hey, no sweat, kid," he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair a little as he stood. She scoffed and whined a little, trying her best to fix it as he gathered his things. "Should be in town still tomorrow. Usual time?"

"You bet, little bro," she laughed, adding a little dance in her step as she headed back to her booth.

At least he'd done something good today.

* * *

A bead of salty sweat dripped from the corner of his eyebrow and curved right into his eye, but he ignored the sting as he lunged forward again, pushing the weighted dummy back on its track several feet before shifting his weight to swipe the damn thing with his foot for good measure. He caught the edge of the padded fake head with his toes, sending it flying to smack against the high, barred windows of the Guardian training house.

Something prickled at his instinct, making the hair on the back of his neck tingle as the air behind him seemed to shift. He whirled without warning or thought, his fist swinging to connect with whatever had dared to sneak up on him like this. No way could it have been a Guardian; even a new recruit wouldn't've been that stupid. But his momentum followed through as his knuckles hit nothing but air.

He realized his mistake when something collided against the side of his ankle, bruising the bone as it kicked both his feet out from under him. Cold mythril solidified in his palm on instinct as his back hit the mat and he prepared to roll, but it fell limp at his side when he saw what, or who, was looking down at him, a triumphant smirk on her lips and her green eyes glittering with mischief.

"Well . . . looks like someone's losing his edge," Aranea drawled, taking a casual step forward to loom over him. "Time was you would've caught me before I could strike—even if you wouldn't've been able to actually _do_ anything about it. You distracted or somethin'?"

"Where the fuck have you been?" he demanded, inwardly wincing at how frog-like his voice sounded.

"Running back and forth between here and Niflheim. I've been dropping off animal specimens for cold storage in Verstael's labs and bringing back any refugees I can find." Placing a high-heeled boot in the middle of his chest and leaning low over him, she let her voice drop to a threatening growl. "But you'd know that if you hadn't had your head up your ass for the last two years."

He let his attention wander up the curve of her calf and the enticing shape of her thigh encased in those tight black leather pants, grinning wickedly and raising an eyebrow at the gold, black, and ruby airship emblem dangling from the zipper between her breasts.

"Plenty of other places my head coulda been, I agree."

His hands shot out to catch both ankles as he shoved them forward, sending her tumbling chest-first on top of him with a grunt from the both of them. Ignoring the pain of the impact, he let his fingers roam down to her hips as she moved to straddle him, but she snatched them away, leaning forward as she pinned them against the floor above his head.

Yeah, he could've thrown her off him, but she looked so gods damned hot over him like this. If he leaned up a little, he could take that emblem between his teeth and yank it down just far enough to bury his nose between her soft, creamy breasts.

"You're an idiot for letting this go on so long. I came here to beat some sense into you," she said, pushing down in frustration on his wrists. But she closed her eyes as she felt him twitch between her legs, her pale-pink eyeshadow highlighting the contrast of her dusky pink lips and the smattering of freckles over her nose and alabaster cheeks.

"You could beat some sense into me, if you want," he murmured warmly, and even though his words were meant to be a double entendre . . . barely, he meant them as a compliment of her combat prowess, too. With any luck, flattery would get him everywhere this afternoon.

The pressure on his wrists lifted and transferred almost immediately to his jaw as she swooped down to smash her mouth against his, prying his unprotesting lips open and twisting her tongue with his in a no-holds-barred duel.

"Six, you're an asshole," she let out on a sigh when she pulled back with a wet smack of her lips, but the way her hips flexed subtly against his rigid cock told him he could play his cards right and at least get her to fuck her frustration out of him. "I don't even know why I came here."

"Can't get enough of me."

And he couldn't get enough of her, if he was being honest. Talented as fuck on the field and in the sack, capable of tearing the balls off a behemoth with her bare hands, and yet he got the feeling that she liked it when he held her all safe and small in his arms after round two was over and they were both covered in sweat. He loved the way she wasn't afraid to get a little down and dirty, riding him hard and fast for her pleasure as her gray hair grew heavy with perspiration and his fingers grew numb from dancing over her clit.

And he loved the way she knew the score without having to ask—his ass belonged to Noct until this was over, so he wasn't committing shit to anyone until this was done . . . and maybe not even then.

"I shouldn't be here," she ground out, clenching her teeth as she rocked against him.

"You locked the door, right?"

"It's not that, it's . . ."

"Spit it out."

"It's President Cassius. He's infected."

"Fuck."

Nifs didn't take up much of the population after everything Iedolas and Ardyn had put them through. It'd been hard enough finding a decent politician willing to represent what was left of their broken empire, and even then, Niflians had opted for democracy instead of imperial rule and named him President. Gladio didn't wanna know how they'd managed to find reps in the subcouncils at the outposts. Even in the Guardians, their command representation was unbalanced, with Brigadier General Loqi and Aranea the last of the upper tiers of command. But if she was telling him this . . ..

"They're asking you."

"They're giving me a week to decide while I do one more run to Ueltham to drop off some mandrakes for cryo. I leave in an hour, and he's submitting himself to Quarantine tomorrow."

He rested his hands on her hips, just beneath the hem of her coat, and stroked at the smooth leather. "You know what you're gonna tell 'em yet?"

She shook her head. "Politics ain't my thing. I'm better in the field where I can help. But if I'm needed . . .."

"Loqi wouldn't be able to handle it. He's still . . ."

"An idiot," she finished, looking at him significantly.

They both flinched a little when the strident tones of his phone beeping sounded from his pocket. Aranea looked down and lifted her thigh, sliding two fingers into his pants to pluck it out and hand it to him. Whoever it was, he wasn't in the mood to deal with their shit right now, but one look at the caller ID had up flinging the phone to his face.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

It'd been over two years since he'd seen this number flash across his screen. For as much as they technically needed to communicate as head of state and pseudo head of military, Iggy was a master at managing it without direct contact. But if he was calling now, something had to be very, very wrong.

"Gladio," Iggy panted. "I . . . need your help."

"Where are you? Who's with you? How bad are you hurt?"

Thankfully, he didn't have to ask as Aranea stood up off of him and offered a hand to help pull him up.

"Under the self-repairing bridge in Steyliff. It doesn't appear to be in the mood to repair itself this afternoon." He paused to gasp, and Gladio wildly wondered why they hadn't yet invented the ability to crawl through the gods damned phone lines. "I'm mostly all right, but my leg. I think it's broken."

"And you're alone, aren't you? You fucking moron! Can you defend yourself?"

Another beat of silence and static passed over the line as Gladio's pulse pounded uncomfortably in his neck before Iggy managed to grind out, "In a sense, yes."

"Don't got anyone up that way at the moment. I'll be there soon as I can."

"I understand . . . I . . . thank you."

"Don't gotta thank me for this. Hang tight."

Stowing his phone away, he shoved a little at Aranea's shoulder, encouraging her to follow as he headed toward the supply room. A bag, some rope, water, rations, the biggest first-aid kit he could find—he wasn't really looking at what all he was grabbing as he shoved everything inside. Gods damn, but he missed having access to the full armiger at a time like this so he wouldn't have to waste his time doing stupid shit like packing a bag when Iggy could be dying.

"You think you can have your ship loaded in fifteen and drop me off at Steyliff before your mission?"

"I can't stay and help. Those cryo tubes are only good for so long in transport. How're you planning to get yourselves back?"

"Kaze and Calima will come if I whistle for 'em. Just gotta call Hammerhead and have 'em saddled up."

"Meet me on the main road in ten, then."


	86. Chapter 86

One look at the thick, black layer of malboro mist settling like a cloud over the dark water, and Gladio could tell why it'd been over two years since any human had been up this way. With Galdin Quay finally back online to handle shipments of supplies to Accordo, he knew Iggy and Holly had only put this region next on the list to restore in order to get the nearby Myrl Estate connected to the grid before the runes wore off and the farm was overrun by daemons. Remembering how difficult it had been just to kill _one_ malboro, he didn't envy the poor fuckers that were gonna have one helluva time reclaiming this area.

Luck was with him as he followed the dirt path, sloshed through the swamps, and hauled himself up the overgrown stone steps, since he'd forgotten about Solheim's obsession with being closed during the day to recharge and opening up at night. But it was fortunate for Iggy's life and Gladio's sanity that it was dark more hours of the day than it was light these days. Even though it wasn't quite four o' clock in the afternoon yet, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, shading the murky, flat-orange sky a sickly sort of purple.

He hoped it was the twilight hours that were holding the door mostly in place as he pressed himself up against the crumbling geometrical column and squeezed his meaty frame in the crack between the door and the wall. It'd been far too long for Iggy to take a potion for his broken leg, and it sure as hell was gonna suck trying to get him out the door if it was still mostly closed.

One thing at a time. He had to find Iggy first, and he didn't want to call and make his phone ring if he was lying helpless and silent in the middle of a pack of liches.

His tactics were pretty much non-existent as he strode boldly through the dark hallways faintly lit with flickering strips of reddish light—like in Costlemark, but dimmer and less steady. Though Aranea had drawn him a map to lead him directly to the spot Iggy said he'd be, Gladio still wished she could've come with him. Precious seconds were slipping by as he kept stopping to recheck that he'd gone the right way or to cock his head to the side each time he thought he'd heard a daemon. But he didn't meet any resistance as he drew closer to where she'd indicated this self-repairing bridge was, and he figured Ig must've cleared the place out before he'd gotten hurt.

Piles of crushed stone littering the floor slowed his progress on his first step into the room Iggy should've been in, but a whispering groan just barely rose over the sound of his boots crunching over the gravel and made him freeze.

"Iggy?" he whispered, the softest utterance he could manage, but it still seemed to slam itself against the wall and ricochet up to the ceiling. He held his breath, hoping Iggy was still conscious enough to answer.

"Gladio," Iggy groaned from about thirty yards away.

Gladio threw himself in that direction, scrambling over the larger chunks of masonry and tripping a little as the smaller rocks rolled under his feet. He took a chance as he drew closer and flipped his travel light on, immediately illuminating Iggy's hair, dark and dripping with sweat, and the rise and fall of his heaving chest. Dropping to his knees by Iggy's side, he did his best to disconnect from the situation and let his field medic training take over to assess the patient's status.

The chunk of stone railing lying across Iggy's left leg was about two and a half feet long and a foot wide, and judging by the jagged edges of the bridge hovering over their heads, it had fallen on him from about twelve feet up. So his leg wasn't broken so much as shattered, and Gladio wondered just what the hell this man was made of that he wasn't screaming bloody murder or passed out by now.

"Gonna check the lower leg, okay?" he said gently, scooting to where Iggy's calf was sticking out from the other side of the rail. Ignis didn't answer so much as suck in a deep breath and nod.

Unsurprisingly, Iggy growled through his teeth as Gladio carefully lifted the edge of his pant leg and shined his light up his shin, and Gladio himself cursed under his breath when he discovered the black, swollen skin stretched tight above his strained sock line. His attention shot to Iggy's face—taking note of the bloodshot eyes and the constant shiver passing over his skin despite being covered in sweat.

Gladio reached out a hand to his wet neck, feeling not only the burning skin beneath his fingertips but the leaping, stuttering heartbeat.

"How long?"

"About an hour."

"Gods damn, Iggy," he breathed. "You've got crush syndrome; I guarantee it. I can't pull this thing off you until I amputate your leg . . . unless you wanna lose your kidneys too."

"I hardly think _that's_ necessary," he blew out on a sharp breath. "I managed to tie a tourniquet around my thigh before you got here, and I still have some hi-potions in my part of the armiger."

"I'm not stupid, Ig. It's been too long for a potion to work right." He sat back on his haunches and ran a hand through his hair, staring down at the man he who'd become his responsibility. "You shouldn't even be _conscious_ right now, let alone talking to me."

Gritting his teeth, Iggy squeezed his eyes shut. "Let's just say I currently have a lot of support keeping me coherent at the moment. As to the potion, my own power can handle the rest."

And here was the mystic shit again—laying life and death on information Gladio couldn't see, hear, touch, or even fathom. Laura was obviously nowhere nearby, or she would've come teleporting in from Myrl by now to practically kill herself to save him. Iggy'd been learning some advanced healcasting by the time they'd reached Gralea, but as far as Gladio knew, his magic hadn't been anything beyond what the Glaives could do, which was pretty much like hardcasting a potion.

"Gladio," Iggy chastised at seeing his hesitation, "for once in your life, trust that I know what I'm doing, even if you don't."

He stood, reluctantly placing his feet on either side of Iggy's injured leg and bending to grip the edges of the railing. "I don't need to remind you that this is your life, man. If you're being a stubborn ass and risking it so we don't have to cut your leg off—"

"Gladio."

"Fine," he growled, his fingers tightening around the smooth surface worn with time and the rough edges of the recent break. He glanced at Iggy, who'd summoned a hi-potion to his hand with a tinkle of phosphorescent petals. "You ready?"

Had he imagined the slightest breathy whimper before Iggy nodded? Without another word, he bent his knees and stood, a roaring growl of effort escaping his throat as he heaved the chunk straight upward before slinging it off to the side. Over the deep, resounding crack of masonry hitting the wall, Iggy's bellowing scream through gritted teeth resonated in Gladio's chest, and he dropped to his knees again by Iggy's side, examining his still pale, sweaty face glittering with the fading green sparkles of a hi-potion.

"Well?"

"Stars, it's worse," he groaned softly as he struggled to sit up.

"Hey, you shouldn't be trying to sit up right now. We're gonna have to cut that leg off before your kidneys start failing."

"A moment," Iggy snapped as he managed to get a hand beneath him to prop himself up. As Gladio looked up to inspect the surrounding area for daemons he was sure were gonna manifest at all this racket they were making, Iggy added, "You needn't worry about them. I took care of the matter on my way in."

Gladio sat back again, wondering what he was telling Laura right now—how much he _wasn't_ telling Laura right now. "So are you and Laura gonna pull of some weird thing now? Why didn't you call her in the first place?"

"Mmm," he hummed, placing careful fingers over his thigh and closing his eyes. Before Gladio could argue at the non-answer, Iggy took a deep breath, parted his lips, and began to sing.

Which wasn't even close to what Gladio had been expecting him to do. He'd never heard Iggy sing before, but he guessed he shouldn't've been surprised to find out he was good at it like he was everything else. As he wrapped his lips somewhat awkwardly around the foreign sounds Laura must've been feeding him, his soft baritone only quivered a fraction of what Gladio would've expected, considering the agony he must've been in right now. That green light he'd seen pouring from Iggy's fingertips a thousand times was different this time—tinged with a silver shimmer and held back to build as the song continued.

The moment Gladio ducked his head to shield his eyes from the blinding green light, Iggy's voice faded beneath a swell of wind, and he looked back just in time to catch Iggy's head before it crashed onto the stone floor behind him.

"Ig?" Gladio whispered harshly, but he didn't open his eyes.

He scrabbled at Iggy's collar, feeling for the strong, steady heartbeat pulsing against his gritty, sweaty neck. At least one symptom had been taken care of, but he was still too pale. Who the hell knew just how thorough a job that magic had done? After releasing Iggy's belt buckled tightly around his upper thigh, Gladio pulled back Iggy's dust-covered and torn pant leg again, this time to find the skin of his calf returned to its normal, healthy color.

But the unconsciousness figured. The asshole had probably overexerted himself just like his wife was always doing.

"You _and_ your wife are fucking nutcases; I hope you know that," Gladio muttered, bending to scoop the surprisingly solid man into his arms. "But damn, you're a lot heavier than she is—shit."

There was something about the way Iggy's head lolled back in his arms—the slack expression on his typically guarded features, his parted lips, his eyes closed, the cords of his throat so exposed—the image of that identical expression blinked in his head as those soldiers had carried him off the altar. Altissia wasn't the first time Iggy had almost gotten killed doing his job when he hadn't been there to do it himself. Iggy, Laura, and Noct had all almost lost their lives that day because of his failure, and it seemed like no matter what he'd done since, including his lowest moment when Noct got sucked into the Crystal, he hadn't had the chance to prove himself, to find that inner peace he'd discovered with Gilgamesh.

And if he couldn't keep his four closest friends safe, how was he supposed to do the same for the people?

What was it about Iggy that had made him step up so resolutely the second he'd gotten back? Looking down at him now, it was all too easy to see he was just a man. He might've been a fucking genius and powerful beyond Gladio's understanding, but he bled, he failed, he needed help sometimes . . . and the same went with Laura. What kinda inner power did they possess that Gladio didn't that made them so gods damned capable all the time?

Even though Iggy had reassured him the place was cleared out until the damn things decided to respawn, Gladio kept his eyes on the swivel as he picked his way back to the entrance as best he could with his heavy load, pausing only long enough to shift his hold. He about collapsed in defeat once he'd hauled the two of them to the top of the four hundred fucking flights of steps to find the door still mostly shut despite the black sky beyond.

It'd be a tight fit, but the opening was big enough to squeeze his shoulders through . . . maybe?

"Better not be tellin' Laura I'm giving you a froggy-back ride like we're six years old right now," Gladio grumbled. Using the wall to help him shift Iggy's dead weight to his back, he grasped Iggy's wrists over his shoulders just long enough wedge the both of them through the small space. Relief flooded him as he staggered out to the landing beyond, dropping one of Iggy's wrists before turning to carefully lower him to the ground.

He plopped down on the steps next to a propped-up Iggy to catch his breath and ease the fire in his arms and the backs of his thighs. It was gonna be another eighteen hours or so before it was light enough to travel again. Iggy needed medical attention right this second, but what choice did he have? Kaze couldn't carry two, and it would take Gladio a week to walk beside Kaze and fight his way back to the closest civilization—which was Lestallum. He could only hope the runes at the nearby haven would be strong enough to keep them safe for the night while he did his best to monitor Iggy for signs of renal failure.

But he needed to get them there in one piece first.

When they reached the base of the stairs that led into the swampy, flooded courtyard, Gladio propped Iggy's body between a column and a wall—the most defendable position in the area—before pulling out his chocobo whistle, gripping it between his lips, and blowing as softly as he could manage.

The concept of renting a chocobo was a thing of the past ever since the power grid had gone down and they'd lost Wiz's post to a couple of behemoths two days later. Three Glaives and four Hunters had been killed in the attack that day, and Wiz had been lucky to escape with his own life, even though it had about killed him to leave his birds behind. For days, Gladio would whistle for Kaze, positive one of his remaining best friends had been killed in the destruction and doing his best not to show just how much losing a damn bird had affected him. But then they'd shown up one day outta nowhere outside Lestallum—bedraggled, drained of magic, and starving—thirty of them led by that crazy-ass black bird of Laura's. Once they'd been nursed back to health and their magic had been restored, they found that all bonded chocobos would come when called without a rental.

It'd taken some time to find a place to keep them all between Cauthess Depot and Old Lestallum, but their five only seemed to be willing to put up with their new home in Cauthess for a couple of years before running away to Hammerhead to be with Prompto. Gladio had called Hammerhead ahead of time to ask Cindy to get Kaze and Calima saddled up, only to find that Calima was still out from when Iggy had called her the night before.

As the high, shrill tone faded from the cold night air, five birds dropped from the sky in front of him with soft coos and splashes, instead of the one he'd been expecting, but Gladio wasn't about to question his luck. He could already hear the whispering rush of daemons just beyond the light from his travel lamp, so he didn't waste a second in bending to pick up Iggy and toss his dead weight over Calima's saddle.

"Gonna have to be careful with him, girl," he murmured as he pulled Kaze closer and swung up onto his back.

Leaning over to place a hand on Iggy, he guided the two birds at a gentle trot through the shallow, black waters of the grove's entrance and toward the haven—the other three following silently behind. What the hell was going on? Not that he wasn't grateful for the extra company, but every time he'd whistled for Kaze in the past, only Kaze had come. Were they in so much danger that some animal instinct had summoned the five of them? This could've been Laura's doing, wherever she was, since she seemed to possess some kinda animal magic.

Their little flock had made it no more than a few steps onto the path beyond the grove when a flash of white flitted across his beam—a skeleton . . . fuck Ifrit. Nudging Kaze to pick up the pace a little, he prayed to whoever the hell was listening right now that there wouldn't be a pack of these things like there usually were.

"Shit!" he yelped in surprised when one of the bastards leapt onto his thigh. Keeping a hand on Iggy's back, he dropped Kaze's reins long enough to wrap his fingers around the daemon's neck and jerk it, snapping the vertebrae. As it fell limp to the dirt behind them, another streak of white flashed across his peripheral vision, this time on Iggy's side. There was nothing for it; he'd have to hop off and fight his way to the haven.

Gladio had just removed his hand from Iggy's back to summon his blade and leap off Kaze when a wall of glossy black feathers snatched the flying skeleton out of the air with a soft shriek and snapping beak.

"Gods damn, you're a good bird," Gladio sighed as Saracchian spread his wings and lunged again, reaching out to snap the skeleton's spine in two. But he'd gotten distracted by the commotion and hadn't noticed an additional two daemons—one flying toward Kaze's face and another toward his side—moving in for an attack. A flurry of scarlet and gold feathers blocked out his view as Sunny and Byrrus cleared their path of snarling bones.

It took them a good forty-five minutes to make it the quarter of a mile to Capitis haven, with Saracchian, Sunny, and Byrrus snapping, leaping, and clawing at the hordes of skeletons and crème brûlée that haunted their every step. Desperate to avoid the billowing black smog and noxious fumes emanating from the wild malboros that had taken up residence in the Vesperpool, he led the flock in a wide arc away from the water's edge, probably tripling the length of their journey.

A part of him was terrified the runes wouldn't work when they finally stepped onto the glowing stone, but the supernatural writing seemed to brighten a little at their presence as their snarling and spitting company halted just outside the halo of light. Gladio dismounted immediately, rushing to Iggy's side to pull his unconscious body off Calima. He had nothing, of course—no access to a single piece of camping equipment to get Iggy comfortable. So he did the best he could, sitting Iggy up against Calima's soft, warm feathers once she had settled and encouraging the others to meatloaf in a circle around them, forming a little haven of warmth against the cold night.

Saracchian and Calima were especially attentive as Gladio crouched down at Iggy's side to check him over—nuzzling carefully at Ignis's chest, cooing softly, and releasing little bursts of sparkling teal magic that he inhaled with every breath. He'd heard Wiz describe the phenomenon a little differently—more like a dance a chocobo does when they want to help their bonded partner recover more quickly—but he wasn't gonna turn away any extra help he could get, no matter how weird it was.

"Seriously, is anything about you guys normal?" Gladio muttered as he dug through his bag for the first-aid kit.

But he fell silent as he got to work—feeling Iggy's leg and thigh for consistent temperature and a steady pulse, looking the leg over for swelling and range of movement, and checking his blood pressure. There was just so much that could go wrong with crush syndrome, and only so much he could do to intervene out here in the field with limited tools. It was gonna be a long night—checking Iggy's heart for signs something was going wrong.

But he realized that something had already gone wrong as he undid the top two buttons of Iggy's dust and grit-covered Crownsguard shirt and that flash of blue and silver caught his eye. An icy fist seemed to close around his chest at the sight. Far too much of this evening reminding him of Altissia.

"Shit," he said under his breath, shaking Iggy's shoulder gently. "Come on, man, wake up."

How long had she been gone? The entire two years? Was she coming back? Just how fucked were they, and how long had they been keeping this a secret?

Saracchian leaned in again, exhaling another cloud of sparkling teal the moment Iggy breathed in through his nose. He gasped softly, his lashes fluttering open as he leaned forward to cough up the thick air laced with magic. Gladio laid a heavy hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling over as he sucked in a deep breath, but the inhalation suddenly morphed into a gasp as he shot upright.

"Prompto. Is Prompto all right?"

Gladio stared down at him, tilting his head first to one side, then the other to check Iggy's scalp for injuries. He would've jumped to his feet, thinking Prompto had been left back in Steyliff, but he knew exactly where Prompto was and wasn't at all worried about him.

"Prompto's fine. Are _you_ okay?"

"Then why did he not answer his phone when I called? He was there when I asked him to saddle up Calima."

"He's on a date. Took her to Norduscaean Garrison to search for tech and assess how hard it'll be to get it reconnected."

"Miss Penelope, I presume? How terribly romantic."

"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it. Getting on those havens in the unpowered areas alone at night? Let's just say there's nothing quite like fucking the fear of death away."

"It's good to see him moving on from Miss Cindy. I was beginning to grow concerned for him," Iggy said, his voice growing softer as he stared down at his boots.

It'd taken him a few seconds to figure out Iggy had done that thing he did to lead people away from what they really wanted to know, but now that Gladio remembered who it was he was talking to and how they'd gotten to discussing Prompto and Penelope, of all people, it was high time to cut through the shit and get the upper hand in this conversation.

"Ig."

"Mmm?"

"Why're you alone? Where's Laura?"

Saracchian let out a soft coo in the back of his throat at the sound of Laura's name, stretching his neck out to rest in Iggy's lap. Iggy looked away shiftily and ran his hand through Saracchian's crest as he spoke, "A thousand reasons. I needed to inspect the Solheimian ruins before the sun grew too weak to recharge them, and it was a good thing I did, as you've seen the bridge, door and lighting are already growing weak. Ardyn missions are sensitive, as you well know. This was too difficult for the others, and they only would have slowed me down."

The Ardyn part he could understand, but that didn't explain why he hadn't called on Laura, Prompto—hell, even him to go with him on this mission.

"And it's was fortunate I was checking, even if I haven't found anything pertaining to what I was looking for. I encountered signs of recent entry in both Costlemark and Steyliff," Iggy continued, probably to keep Gladio from asking the question he wanted to hear the answer to most—again. But his eyes turned dark and serious as they narrowed down at Saracchian's head. "It's him, I know it."

This was the kinda news Gladio had been searching for for two years now. "How do you know it's him? What've you learned? What does he want?"

Still not making eye contact, Iggy let his fingers trail absent-mindedly across Saracchian's beak and released a rough breath. "It's difficult to explain—as though the aftertaste of his essence is on the air. He must want something from Solheim, but he was there with us the first time we were there. What could he possibly want now that he couldn't get then?"

"Could he be keeping you from finding what you want? Could he be searching for clues to Pitioss?"

"I don't know. He's implied he already knows the secrets we learned in that place, so I assume he learned of his grandmother in much the same manner we did. As dusty as it is down there, I would think I would have found evidence of tampering with artifacts. Which brings us back to 'why now?'"

Gladio let his voice drop low, allowing every bitter thought he'd had about Iggy and Laura over the last couple of years to slip into his tone. "You took one helluva a risk for not a lotta payoff. You haven't even found anything to save Noct yet, have you?"

Iggy's burning eyes snapped up to him then, no doubt cognizant of everything this argument was really about. "You know, she was right about one thing. It's not my responsibility to know everything about everything, though I will _always_ endeavor my very best to do so. I recognize I am not without faults, which I beg you to excuse as you do for everyone else. After all, not even the gods themselves are infallible."

"Yeah, but we're not at the Citadel managing Noct's schedule anymore, Ig. You're practically the king of the whole fucking world, making these decisions while people are dying in the streets!"

"Do you think I _wanted_ for this to happen? That I wanted to lead the rest of humanity headlong into an apocalypse I can't stop?! Do you honestly believe for a moment that I don't question my every decision as men and women thrice my age look to me to lead them? But we do what must be done in times such as these, for who else will?"

With the next breath and the next few words out of his mouth, Gladio already knew everything he was about to say because the King had given this speech to Iggy so many times it had become one of his guiding principles. But Gladio let him finish, figuring they could all use some advice right about now.

"But a king cannot lead by standing still. A king pushes onward, always, accepting the consequences and never looking back."

"Hey, Ig."

"What?"

"Do you ever wonder why it was always _you_ King Regis was giving that advice to, and not Noct?"

Iggy pursed his lips and tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at Kaze's saddle across from his outstretched legs. "Well . . . His Majesty did express the desire that I keep him from standing still, but . . .." His voice dropped low as his eyes fell to his lap. "Knowing what I know now? I wonder about it every day."

Iggy didn't give him any time to consider his words; his expression pinched a little as the fingertips poking out of his gloves slipped through the black feathers. "Hanna lá, Saracchian . . . Calima," he sighed. "Me tulpeth alla?"

Gladio scrambled back on his ass as Saracchian leapt to his feet and bent low, allowing Iggy to throw an arm over his neck. Iggy staggered as the bird stood straight, his knees buckling underneath him as he gipped Saracchian's wing joint.

"Alluva nin, thana," he croaked at Saracchian's screech of protest.

Gladio clambered to his feet to catch him and keep him from falling. "Whoa, where d'you think you're going?!"

"I must be getting to Myrl. I was supposed to relieve Kimya hours ago, and Laura knows it," he said, throwing his bad leg over Calima's back and falling into the saddle. With a commanding click of his tongue, she jumped to her feet, snapping her beak, but Gladio lunged forward to grab the reins.

So she hadn't left them alone in this universe, which relieved the fuck outta him to hear, but Iggy still had a helluva lot to explain, and he was in no shape for an hour-long trip through the dark on chocoboback.

"You're not goin' anywhere. I don't think you realize you almost died today, man. Renal failure, heart failure, limb death . . . you're still in danger, and we gotta get you somewhere with better equipment to check you out."

"I assure you, I'm quite all right," he snapped irritably.

"Laura's gonna rip you a new one for getting your ass torn up like this."

Iggy let out a long sigh as he let his attention drift to the back of Calima's white feathers ruffling in the breeze. In a small, faraway voice, he said, "I wish."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His eyes turned hard and glittering again as he glared coldly down at him. "That's none of your concern," he said in a clipped, formal tone.

"Fuck that noise. Tell me. _What's wrong with Laura?_ "

"You've made it abundantly clear that your narrow-minded dispute with us is far more important than her wellbeing. Now, I do thank you immensely for your assistance, and I would be more than happy to clear the air as soon as I get back to Lestallum, but I really must be going."

Snatching the reins away, he clicked his tongue, and Calima sprung forward, Saracchian leaping off the high rock of the haven right next to him. Gladio threw himself up onto Kaze's back as he danced to the side in anticipation. A gentle nudge to his sides, and Kaze was bounding up behind Calima in a matter of seconds, his longer legs allowing him to catch up easily.

"If you insist on tagging, along," Iggy said in a low voice as he drew up to Calima's flank, "turn that bloody light off."

Everyone that had worked with Iggy since he'd gotten back complained about his insistence that they remain in the dark at all times—from the moment they left the city until they returned—but as soon as they'd all seen how little action Iggy's missions saw as a result, they'd all done their best to follow his example. They'd lowered the wattage on their travel lights to bare minimum and worked with a team of six vision-impaired Guardians to learn how to pay attention to those subtle shifts of air and sound, but Gladio still hadn't managed to work efficiently in the pitch black as Iggy had. He seemed to lack whatever instinct that made Iggy capable of all the weird shit he and Laura did.

"How am I s'posed to steer?" he grumbled as he reached to flick his lamp off, plunging him into complete darkness. It was times like these that Gladio really missed the light of the moon. Hell, he'd even take a star or two to reassure him that he wasn't bouncing around on the back of a chocobo in the middle of the void.

"Kaze knows to follow Calima."

"You'd think daemons of darkness would be able to see in the dark."

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course they can see in the dark, but not in perfect clarity, as with any other nocturnal beast." His cadence grew pedantic as Instructor Iggy was brought to the fore, and that brief pang of remembrance pounded at Gladio's chest for the annoying little brat that was always on the receiving end of that tone. "We become one moving thing among many, and only our speech makes us stand out. Now, kindly be quiet so we may have an uneventful journey to Myrl."

Gladio shut his mouth, reluctantly putting his life in the hands of Iggy and a flock of fucking chocobos as he closed his eyes and let Kaze's thudding feet carry him through the endless dark.

* * *

The crumbling old manor that lay just northwest of the Tomb of the Rogue—between the edges of Thriocess mountain range and the misty Myrlwood in a strip of fertile valley—had been a part of the Amicitias' holdings for longer than records had been kept. Even though the simple, rough-hewn stone estate was supposed to be Gladio's home, in a way, he felt nothing in his heart on laying eyes on it for the first time. This place would never hold the memories of his family as Insomnia had.

Though it wasn't much to look at from the outside, Monica and Dustin had informed him when he'd sent them to check on it that the interior had been completely redone in the last ten years or so. Gladio wondered just how long his dad had known shit was gonna hit the fan that he thought his family might've needed a safe house beyond Caem.

Iggy had barely allowed Calima to come to a full stop just outside the front door before he swung his leg over and stumbled to the ground. His limping stride didn't falter as he did his best to march to the front door and burst through it like he owned the place. But Gladio almost bowled over him when he stopped suddenly in the archway that led to the parlor.

"Good evening," he greeted politely with a little bow, and Gladio peered around the dark wood trim of the arch to see Kimya rising from a faded old settee. "Any changes?"

The old witch nodded, placing a hand to her curled back as she waddled closer to the two of them. "Knows on some level, I think, that in danger her mate was. Close to waking, she was." Her dark eyes narrowed as she stepped closer, inspecting Iggy from his face down to his chest before stopping at his legs. "A potion you will need for cleansing the blood, but recover you will. In the kitchen I will be to begin the brew."

"I am most grateful," Iggy said warmly, "for all you've done. I'll be upstairs if you require any assistance at all. Please, don't hesitate to ask."

When her attention focused on Gladio leaning awkwardly against the edge of the wall, she said, "Ahh, found your way here, have you? Blessed is the day when soothed are family ties. Stronger, it makes you, no?"

"Uh . . . yeah," Gladio muttered as Iggy swept past him and toward the stairs, but Gladio didn't miss the way he leaned heavily on the banister each time his left leg was the one hauling him up a step. Pointing toward Iggy, he said, "I gotta keep an eye on him."

He swung around the post at the base of the stairs and took them three at a time to catch up before Iggy reached the landing. "You sure you're okay, man? You're limping," Gladio said as Iggy stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. "Tingling, burning—anything could be a bad sign."

Iggy's hand paused over the door handle as he let out a huff of a breath, blowing his drooping bangs out of his face in a way that kinda reminded Gladio of Trina when she was irritated about something. He pretended to suddenly need to wipe his mouth with a hand to cover for the chuckle threatening to bubble out of his throat at the sight.

"I assure you I'm just as disinterested in the prospect of dying or having my leg amputated as you are. It's merely stiff."

Turning the heavy brass knob, Iggy stepped over the threshold, hesitated for a second, and limped closer to the massive Tenebraen oak four-poster that dominated the far wall of the room. The heavy thunk of his heels against the dark wood shifted to gentle steps across the plush rug before he fell on the edge of the mattress and placed his hands on the white cheeks of the girl lying in the bed.

Gladio had seen Laura like this so many times that her pallor and the fact she didn't stir at all as Iggy leaned to place his forehead against hers didn't faze him in the slightest. But the way he was acting like he couldn't contact her, how she'd been missing from the world for two years, that he was wearing her necklace now—these were all beginning to add up. 'Power comes at a cost,' he'd said, and here was the cost, clearly. But for what power?

"What happened?"

Iggy sat up to face Gladio with a solemn, blank stare. "She had a choice—work on food supply or the scourge. Running the calculations between the reduction in sunlight and the amount of food we could grow in Lestallum, we determined the living conditions would have become dire nearly instantly. Honestly, what did you think our food supplies were growing on?"

"Figured she and Sania were workin' their magic over here."

"For all her talents, Dr. Yeagre has nothing to do with this; the magic has been all Laura's," he said, turning his attention back to the sleeping girl in the bed. "She's been converting generations of our crops to grow on geothermal heat instead of sunlight—placing herself into a coma to recover more quickly only to begin again several months later."

"You mean she's been like this the whole time? Why didn't you say something?"

Ignis's head whipped back in his direction, his brow lowering and his eyes growing dark. "You were already not speaking to us because you were questioning our decisions. Learning the consequences of that which you already disagreed with would have accomplished nothing more than airing out our dirty laundry, a practice you know I have little patience or appreciation for."

"Yeah, I get it," Gladio sighed. "And I still don't agree—especially with her stepping in with Ardyn." He thrust his chin in Laura's direction, and Ignis reached behind him to grasp her limp hand. "But . . . maybe I shouldn't've handled it like that."

"Shouting matches aren't necessarily the best tactic for getting your point across, though perhaps we should have been more forthcoming. We operate on instinct, the two of us, and it can be difficult to communicate our intentions to those not on our wavelength."

"You got that right," he chuckled, stepping closer to the two of them. Gladio leaned over the bed, examining the girl that had pissed him off so much these past two years. "How much longer?"

"Another month, perhaps? It's difficult to say, but she won't have to do another session after this. We have enough of a foundation to breed new generations of geothermal plants to support the population through complete darkness, if necessary."

Gladio watched in silence as Iggy leaned forward to press his lips against Laura's forehead, trailing a bare fingertip from her temple down to her chin. He was whispering words Gladio couldn't hear, but he thought he could see the shape of the phrase 'my beloved' as he breathed his secrets to her.

"Ig—nis," Laura mumbled as Iggy spread his fingers wide on either side of her head.

"I'm here," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

A deep wrinkle formed between her brows as she frowned, but her eyes stayed closed. "You're hurt. Smell it. Felt it."

"Shh. I'm all right now. Please, get your rest and come back to me."

But the corner of her lips twitched up for a second as she slurred, "Princess."

That image of power and fragility—fuck, Gladio was the biggest asshole in the history of Eos, no different than those gossiping bastards passing judgment from afar. He still wasn't sure he agreed on the whole food versus scourge thing; surely someone else could've figured something else out? He sure as hell would never see her reasoning behind the whole mercy thing. Like he'd told Iggy earlier, it had been one helluva gamble with not a lot of payoff.

For family though, sometimes people just had to let shit go.

"Hey Princess," he grunted, swallowing the knot in his throat as he leaned closer, but judging by her slack expression, she'd already drifted off again. "How can you stand that?" he asked, turning to Iggy. If it had been Iris lying there, breathing her life force into food for the people talking shit about his family, the bitterness probably would've eaten him alive.

"We all do what we must in these trying times—for King and country," he said softly without tearing his eyes away from her face. "I can live without her, and I believe I've proven that these last two years."

Gladio spluttered a little, trying to comprehend the words coming out of Iggy's mouth. Gladio got that sense of duty better than anyone, but saying something like that was a little too reminiscent of Ice Cold Scientia from the Citadel.

"Wh—"

"That doesn't mean I have any sort of desire to," he cut in to explain on seeing Gladio's expression. "Honestly, I'm not without feeling. Surely you know that by now."

"I thought I did, but sometimes the words that come outta your mouth . . .."

"Mmm," he replied. "I'll admit to loving her, but don't think for a moment that it means I'll go back on my word or falter in my duty in the slightest."

"You just sacrificed two years of your life with her; I don't think anyone that knows will question that," he said with a light slap to Iggy's shoulder. After a few seconds' pause, he said softly, "Hey, Ig?"

"What is it now?" he complained, still not tearing his eyes away from his wife's face as he traced a finger along the edge of her chin.

"I'm . . . sorry. I mean, I still don't agree, but, you know. I just wanted to kill the bastard—just once. Do what I should've done back in Altissia, and . . . you guys betrayed that."

Iggy finally looked over at him, his expression calculating before it softened. "Do you honestly believe I don't feel the same?" he asked gently. "Noct is my brother, and we've both endured much to protect him. But I won't do so needlessly." Sighing, he placed a heavy hand on Gladio's arm and added, "Family, am I correct? We don't require recompense. I assume you'll be staying the night?"

"Uh . . . yeah. Not going back out in that, thanks."

* * *

"Gladio, wake up," Iggy whispered over the sound of a beeping cell alarm he definitely hadn't set.

He was expecting to see the gray fabric of the tent when he sat up, since that voice and that alarm rarely accompanied any other setting, but he was disoriented for a second when he rubbed his eyes to reveal the wood-paneled walls and window bench of the still-unfamiliar guest room of his dad's . . . his estate.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I hope you didn't have anything terribly pressing on your agenda today," came the soft accented voice by his bedside. He looked over to see Iggy already dressed and done up in his Crownsguard uniform. "It appears as though we've discovered what Ardyn was up to in those ruins. We need to leave immediately and handle the issue."


	87. Chapter 87

There was very little use to being the man who couldn't die, in Captain Jack Harkness's view. As Tomos handed him the stack of three large pizzas—mushroom and pepperoni, sausage and pepper, and plain cheese—and the greasy cardboard began burning his fingers, he thought that immortality should at least have come with some kind of super power—even if it was a stupid one, like Pizza Protection.

He stepped out of the Jubilee pizza shop onto the quay overlooking Cardiff Bay with his team's lunch in tow, the cool salty air grasping the edges of his RAF greatcoat and whipping them into the wind. A tone sounded in his ear, and he pressed the button that would pick up the call, grateful for the modern technology that would allow him not to have to hold a phone to his ear as he shifted the hot pizzas from hand to hand. There hadn't been a pizza shop or any businesses besides the undertaker in this area a hundred years ago when he'd first started monitoring the Rift in time and space that cut through the center of Cardiff, but he was a little fuzzy on the details of just how his fellow Torchwood field agents had gotten a hold of him when he'd stepped out.

"Ianto Jones! Don't tell me you couldn't handle the place for twenty minutes without me. Lay some of those beautiful Welsh vowels on me and tell me what you've got."

Static crackled across the line for a second before Ianto responded, "Jack. Tosh is getting readings of massive spikes in Rift activity. I've sent Gwen to investigate, but it's right on top of your position."

"All right, all right. Get Gwen back inside. Have Owen and Tosh break out the equipment. Torchwood's on the case. We gotta be prepared for anyth—"

That blaze of heat and bright light that shot through his chest and across the backs of his eyelids was all too familiar, as many times as he'd messed around with this thing and ended up in different points of time and space. But he was beginning to grow more aware of a curious new sensation this time, which was always bad news for him—a pull originating where his heart was beating hard in his chest and yanking him to the left, dragging his skin and muscle and bone right along with it.

Tearing, searing pain threatened to pull him apart, and for a fleeting moment, he could only hope his team wouldn't end the world in an effort to get him back—again—before he finally surrendered, losing his consciousness in the black ocean of death.

* * *

For as long as he'd lived and died so far, he didn't think he would ever grow used to that absolute void of nothingness that lasted simultaneously for a split second and an eternity . . . until suddenly, every fiber of his being was burning, blaring, blazing to life with an electric pulse that made his nerves dance as though he were being shot through with streaks of gold light.

As he lay there stunned, sucking in that first breath with a lung-bursting gasp, years of experience were allowing his instincts to gather enough information to tell him that he wasn't in the same place he'd died. Gritty dirt bunched beneath his fingertips as he curled them into the ground beneath him, and long blades of grass hindered his view of a dimly-lit sky. Judging by the weight of a well-muscled body over his back and the chill of what felt like the tip of a steel blade against his throat, someone already wanted him dead—which was really nothing new.

"A man appearing in these parts from nowhere to land on top of another can hardly be up to any good. State your identity and intentions," a chocolate baritone commanded from above his head.

Judging by the accent, he was probably somewhere in Britain still, lying sprawled-out face first in the dirt with what sounded like a gorgeous man perched on his back holding a blade against his Adam's apple. But that shift to the side before he'd died told him that he was probably on a parallel world, despite the fact that the Doctor had told him it was impossible to cross the void into another universe.

Either way, it sounded like the start of a really, really fun lunch break.

"Captain Jack Harkness, and as far as intentions go, that really depends on you, gorgeous. You're the one on top of me right now."

"Oh, bloody hell, it's _you_ ," the voice moaned as the weight lifted off him. "I thought we'd told you to clear off. You're the _last_ thing we need right now. What was it she said? Protocol Alpha-Bravo-Tango 472 Delta?"

Something deep in his memory set off claxons at those words—a password he hadn't heard in over a century—'planet-wide quarantine in effect; return to base and keep the sector clear of all personnel.' But he hadn't met anyone in his life that had used that code from his Time Agent days, and rolling over on his back to inspect the man questioning him, he knew instantly that he'd _never_ forget a face like that for as long as he lived.

He was the most stunningly beautiful creature Jack had ever seen—and that was saying something. A carefully disheveled mop of golden-brown hair gave him a sort of suggestive appearance, like he'd just rolled out of bed freshly-shagged and ready to face his next adventure. That straight nose, those high cheekbones, that jawbone that could cut glass—all features that reminded him strongly of Archians from Angelica, who'd been vain enough to visit Earth during Greece's Hellenistic period and inspired most of their gods' images. But it was those large, almond-shaped eyes the color of emerald, and by the Goddess of Time herself, the bow of those perfect lips, that left even a man of Jack's age and experience in a daze. And judging by the shape and weight of the frame that had been pinning him to the ground . . . yep. That was perfect, too.

Maybe he'd finally died, after all.

But if this man recognized him as a Time Agent, then he must have had a parallel self running around here at some point on a mission. And given the way he'd been pulled here like a TARDIS is drawn to disaster, he was probably needed here before he could go back. Jack wasn't really into the idea of explaining parallel worlds to this guy, so he decided playing along would be his best option.

"Yeah well, got called back again." Adopting a southern accent and grinning cheekily up at him, he drawled, "Seems like _you_ cowboys cin't handle yer own business!" He sat up, running his hands through his hair—he hoped he looked good, at least, after a trip like that. "But seriously, boys and girls, I was called here to help with whatever the problem is, and I don't think brass is gonna let me go back without solving it."

The young man lowered the ornately decorated ceremonial dagger in his hand, taking a step back. "Seeing as how our objectives are identical, and you are likely to have more experience in these matters, it seems only sensible we work together for now." He straightened, adopting a formal tone like a tour guide at the British museum. "Very well. You're on the planet Eos, and two interdimensional gates—that we know of—have opened up on the planet—likely because the man responsible for opening them in the first place wishes to do the people who have escaped there great harm. We can't be certain of that. I've sent my comrades, Gladio and Y'jhimei, to take care of one while I handle the other. We must solve the problem and deactivate the gate before the man can get to them."

"Why don't we start from the beginning?" he said with a groan as he got to his feet. Flashing the kid his signature smile, he held out a hand and said, "Captain Jack Harkness, as you already know. Why don't you put that knife away and tell me your name? Don't recall if I got it last time we met."

Jack concealed his surprise at the way the man casually waved his hand in the air, the knife disappearing in a flash of silver light and a breath of wind, before holding it out for a firm handshake. "Yes, of course. Forgive me, but it appears to have been several years for you since I last saw you. Ignis Scientia."

From the accent and the appearance, Jack would've guessed he was a high-bred kid from London, or thereabouts, going through a sort of punk rocker phase. The resonance and formality of his tone suggested he was about to invite him to take the hounds out on a fox hunt, but that casual use of some sort of spatial-hyperlink technology with a weapon as old-fashioned as a knife told him he couldn't assume anything anymore.

"Human? Mind you, not that it makes a difference to me," he said, letting his eyes travel from the stylish boots, up those long legs, and lingering on his broad shoulders. But damn, a black and platinum ring studded with diamonds glittered on the ring finger of his left hand. That ring had so many meanings in different times, planets, and cultures, though—sometimes implying more of a spiritual loyalty than a sexual one, like when he'd been born in the fifty-first century. Jack had always respected the beliefs of the locals, but if this delectable creature was willing, Jack wouldn't mind making those stunning green eyes roll up in his head. Jack bet he'd be a moaner, too. By the goddesses, he loved it when the quiet, studious ones moaned.

Ignis ignored the suggestion, tilting his head in thought as they studied each other. "We call ourselves human on this planet, but I suppose one can assume nothing when taking into account the different histories of our worlds."

With a sprinkling of luminescent petals, a pair of silver gloves appeared in his hands. As he pulled them on, he said, "Now, I was just leaving the haven for the gate. Are you armed?"

Jack pulled his Webley Mk IV out of his coat pocket and wiggled it a little before tucking it away again. "Always."

"Very well," he said with a sharp nod. "It's only a five-minute walk in that direction," he said, indicating to the southwest, "though this world isn't without its perils. Wild animals, daemons—should anything run at us, the chances are high it means to do us harm. Be ready."

The mention of demons intrigued him, but he supposed that quarantine order wasn't just brass's way of having a laugh. With a casual laugh of his own, he slapped the kid on the back. "Oh, I'm ready for anything."

Ignis's face grew firm and serious as they walked, his eyes darting over the scenery—assessing, calculating, planning escape routes. Jack recognized well the habits of a young soldier hardened by too much experience in battle. He kept his own eyes peeled, following behind Ignis as he leapt lightly over a rustic wooden fence; over outcroppings of wet, mossy rock; and through thick, wilting underbrush. Squinting up at the strangely hazy orange sky, he flipped over the leather flap of his broken vortex manipulator and checked the local time.

"Is your sun dying? My calculations say it's noon here."

"It is noon," he said in a hushed voice. "And not only is our sun dying, there's also a layer of . . . it's complicated, though we're fortunate she continues to do her best to keep us warm, else we'd be dead by now."

Jack matched his volume with a murmured, "Yeah, scans tell me you've got a layer of some sort of unidentified particle in your atmosphere. Why aren't you all rushing these gates to abandon this planet? Seems like a gift these opened up, if you ask me."

"Because this world is also experiencing a pandemic. It would hardly be responsible of us to spread this disease across the stars. Our only hope is to cure it on this world."

Jack's heart dropped to his feet as several pieces of the puzzle that was Ignis fell into place. A planet quarantined for disease, marked for death. A lone man sent to quietly handle one of the two gates that could offer sanctuary to the people but would wreak havoc throughout all of time and space if they took it. Fate was always offering teasing philosophical and ethical problems like this for Jack to solve, forcing him to commit the despicable to save the world by sacrificing the innocent, and he was often the only man for the job.

This Ignis Scientia must have been this world's version of Torchwood.

"I take it the public doesn't know about this little lifeboat opportunity?"

"No," he responded flatly.

As the view opened up to reveal the rolling, rocky landscape and a ridiculously picturesque rushing river, Jack found he didn't have eyes for anything but this man, who'd already reminded him far too much of himself and all his wide-eyed and innocent Torchwood agents just starting out—becoming more and more jaded as they sacrificed all for the greater good.

So he told the kid exactly what he would've wanted to hear when he'd made his first kill in the Time Agency.

"You're doing the right thing, you know."

"I do know, in fact, though I appreciate the encouragement," Ignis replied smoothly, with just the hint of a bite in his tone that made Jack wonder what the hell this kid had already gone through to make him so sure. Nearly two hundred years in, and he wasn't so sure sometimes.

As he came to a stop in front of a bronze, lit-up platform set on a stone floor between two high rocks, Jack tilted his head to inspect the design of the mushroom-headed creature holding a flower in glowing white lights.

"Is that . . . a Hiso?"

"Yes," Ignis said, coming to stand next to him and staring down at the interdimensional hyperlink, "though we've yet to determine why the gate depicts the image, as the civilization on the other side clearly pre-dates the Hiso's involvement with that world."

"Probably overrode the circuitry of the original technology of the planet when they remodeled the place. It would include these interdimensional gates."

"I see. The civilization that existed here on Eos before us was interdimensional as well, but they have long-since migrated to the world on the other side. We've regressed—I would say to late 20th century, early 21st century Earth standards. It's . . . complicated."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm gonna be hearing that from you a lot?" he laughed, but he inwardly wondered just how complicated it was when his scans indicated this wasn't even a space-faring society, and yet this man somehow knew about Earth culture. Growing serious, he studied Ignis's interested expression. The curiosity was marred somewhat by the heavy rings under his eyes and unhealthy skin earned by far too many sleepless nights, and Jack wondered where his life partner was at a time like this—if they even knew what he was up to. None of his certainly ever had. "You ready?"

"Always," he said heavily, lifting a foot to hover over the gate.

They stepped on the shining metal together and were instantly carried off in a swirling whoosh of color and sound.

Jack instinctually shoved Ignis to the opposite side of the disc the moment they had solidified, spreading out and taking cover behind the ancient-looking carved columns surrounding them in a circle in the dark, high-ceilinged room. Jack squinted into the low light cast by the disc in an attempt to assess their situation, but the range of visibility beyond the pulsing blue halo was pretty much nil. Given how much his own breath was echoing in the vast space, he doubted anyone breathing could be in here with them. Convinced they were safe for now, he turned his attention to Ignis, curious to see the kid's reaction at being transported.

But instead of fear or excitement, Ignis's expression was pinched in what looked to Jack like pain.

"What's wrong?" Jack whispered.

"It's nothing," he said in a low, clipped tone, his jaw barely unclenching to get the words out. But despite his dismissal, he leaned heavily against the pillar, shaking his head roughly.

Typical. It was never wise for a soldier to display weakness in front of an enemy or a stranger, but they couldn't be crossing universes and getting into life-threatening situations without a little trust. Jack crossed the disc, placed a heavy hand on Ignis's shoulder, and spun him so they were face-to-face. "We're partners on this. We're gonna have to rely on each other, so I'm gonna need to be kept in the loop here. You got a headache or something?"

Ignis hesitated and looked down at Jack's chest, the bulge in his jaw twitching as he considered his words. After a tense moment, he reluctantly said, "I have a telepathic bond that doesn't reach across dimensions. I've lost the connection." When Jack's eyebrows shot up into his bangs, he continued, "I may be human, but my wife is not."

"What kinda bond? Sharing thoughts, feelings, or power?" Ignis's eyes narrowed in suspicion at his question, so he added, "I need to know how deeply you're affected here. I know a thing or two about telepathic bonds."

His eyes dropped to the stone at their feet as he whispered, "Everything."

He couldn't think of anything to say in response to that for a moment as he stood on an interdimensional disc that shouldn't've even existed and contemplated this kid who probably shouldn't've existed either. Jack had heard of fully-saturated marriage bonds in his cultural sensitivity classes back in the Academy, but they'd been presented as myth at the time. Of course, most of the myths he'd learned about in school had turned out to be true the longer he knocked about in time and space, like Time Lords.

"You all right?" he asked, remembering that severing such an intense connection was supposed to be debilitatingly painful.

"Yes," he bit back, standing straight and schooling his features. Looking up at the column standing next to him, he said, "This architecture is ancient Solheimian, as my . . . friend implied the last time he was here. But these aren't ruins as he claimed they were. They've been rebuilt. Look."

He pointed to a spot on the column about two meters above their heads, where the seam of a pillar shifted from smooth, ancient stone to newer, rougher rock. The section seemed to serve as a brace between the columns encircling the disc, a series of stone arches covered in circular writing he couldn't decipher. If he squinted, it kinda reminded him of simplistic Gallifreyan.

After eyeing Ignis one more time to make sure he really was okay before allowing the subject to move on, he turned back to the arch and said, "That newer work looks like a Hiso job to me. Always match the architecture, but can never match the aged look when doing this kinda work."

"Fascinating. Hundreds of years must have passed since Noct was here, given how old even the newer structure appears. Shall we venture forth to ascertain our location?"

"Well, this is your party, since your people've been here before. Looks like the disc is already deactivated. We could head back."

"Not quite," Ignis said, striding confidently forward into the black. Jack followed after, unable to see a damn thing the second they'd stepped through the ring of arches, but following the fall of Ignis's steps in front of him nevertheless. "The last time we did this, there was a potentially paradox-inducing situation to resolve. It would behoove us to at least check before we return. Assess the general state of things."

"Gotta be careful though. We don't know anything about the locals."

Ignis nodded as he stopped at a doorway, which was dimly lit from some unseen light source in the next room. He slowly peered around the corner before signaling for Jack to follow. The hallway beyond appeared to curve around the room they'd just exited like an inner ring of an enormous tree. Though they were still trapped in a windowless stone structure, it was helpfully lit by recessed lighting in the floor, at least—roughly 50th century by Jack's estimation. Opening up his vortex manipulator, he started a scan to see what he could find out about where and when they were.

"Looks like this entire planet's one big city," he said with a whistle, "5,127 levels of city built up from this ground floor all over the planet, population—"

"One trillion people," Ignis said casually as he stopped to press his hand against an elevator control, which he shouldn't even have recognized as such. Jack looked up at him in surprise.

"I believe I may have been here before, in a sense, . . . if it is, in fact the same place described. The planet had the exact number of levels and was called Courscant."

"Coruscant," Jack replied flatly. "As in . . . Star Wars."

"Well, I don't know what you mean by that, I'm afraid, but I was once sort of . . . shown this place when I asked if a single city could take up an entire planet. Knowing what I know now, I suppose the architecture does resemble depictions of what our Solheim must have looked like at its height on Eos."

The door slid open with a hiss of air, and as the two of them stepped inside, Jack pressed the button to the top floor. He looked over at Ignis to flash him a crooked smile as the doors closed, but he noticed the kid barely wobbled as the elevator shot up at breakneck speed.

"This place only exists in the movies in my universe. Oh ho! I sooooo hope we're about to meet Yoda. Maybe he can settle a centuries-old bet. Buddy of mine and I have always wondered what color he'd blush."

"Master Yoda—hardly a blushing man from what I've seen, though a fascinating discussion partner for debating the philosophy of the undermining role emotion plays in behavior and whether or not eschewing it devalues what it means to be a sentient being. But if I've learned anything, we can't assume that was the same universe as this."

"You're right. We can't assume anything," Jack said significantly, staring at the young man appraising the elevator controls in fascination. If he hadn't known already that it was impossible for the Doctor to have crossed universes, he would've guessed this kid to have been a former companion. "So, you done a lotta universal traveling?"

Ignis pursed his lips together, frowning. "Yes, and yet no. This is my first time leaving my home planet. My apologies, but it's complicated."

He'd touched some sort of nerve, judging by the indefinable look in Ignis's eyes, so he smiled broadly and slapped him on the shoulder. "Oh yeah, I know how that is. Practically invented complicated."

The elevator doors opened up onto a brightly-lit but windowless curved hallway, wider than the first and populated with at least twenty different species of people as they bustled and strolled to wherever they were headed. Jack was about to advise Ignis to just blend in and look like he belonged when Ignis stepped out of the elevator, marching confidently into the hall like he had every right to be here.

The kid must've had a lot of experience sneaking where he shouldn't have been—good for him. Jack would've offered him and his bondmate a job back in his home universe with Torchwood if he hadn't known for a fact Ignis wouldn't take him up on the offer. It was a shame, really. He could've used some more good men and women on his staff, and he was still kinda hoping to meet this alien that could soul-bond with a human.

Jack decided to follow behind, content with taking the support role on this adventure as his attention caught on Ignis's long-legged, no-nonsense stride and that rather enticing derrière—even if he'd seen better in his long life. The kid moved like a dancer—or a pouty model on a catwalk, but the tech, the dagger, the suggestion of 'sort of' time and universal travel, the alien wife, coupled with that casual weariness plucked at his curiosity.

"So whaddya do, Ignis?" he asked as Ignis stopped to examine a bulletin board featuring missing person's ads and advertisements for dodgy used speeders.

"I serve as Grand Chamberlain to the King of Lucis," he said matter-of-factly before striding on. They turned left onto a larger ring of the structure before he added, "Prime Minister, Senior Advisor, strategist, tactician . . . those all apply in some fashion or another if you're familiar with any of those."

Ahh, royalty; that explained the whole hoity-toity combo of odd fashion sense and stiff formality that made him fit all too well in this bougie place, but there was still something that didn't quite add up.

"The King has his head of household running interdimensional errands often, does he?"

"It's—"

"Lemme guess. Complicated?"

Jack stepped aside to allow someone to pass between them—seriously, was that a Nautolan woman? Being surrounded by so many species at once was nothing new to him, but this was like walking around a movie set packed with some of the most beautiful people in existence. The woman's thick, fleshy figure was heavily muscled in the most delightful way, clearly visible even underneath a couple layers of leather and fabric. The deep green tentacles growing from her head to lay heavy on her shoulders were capped and decorated with intricate bronze and golden rings that flashed as they caught the lighting overhead.

Her earthy brown, saucer-shaped eyes seemed to catch his as she passed, and he kept his gaze locked on hers, turning to watch her sway as she walked.

Oooh, he'd _so_ love to . . .

"Eyes forward," Ignis commanded softly as he turned onto yet another hallway, this one lined in curved glass from the floor to the ceiling all along the outer edge of the wall. Jack was just about to ask what he thought he was looking for when he came to a sudden stop in front of one of the massive panes of thick glass, his eyes roaming over the cityscape stretching out forever beneath their feet.

The façade Ignis had so obviously been clinging to since they'd arrived suddenly slipped—his elegant lips parting and his emerald eyes opening wide as he gently reached out to brush the window with the very tips of his gloved fingers. By the Goddess of Time, he looked so young, so raw—like Jack had probably looked when he'd thought he was old and jaded . . . before being saved by a nineteen-year-old girl and a Time Lord.

"So . . . _alive_ ," Ignis whispered. "It's beautiful. Was this what Solheim once was on Eos? To see a city in real life that dwarfs even Insomnia . . .."

Jack stepped up close beside him, remembering what it'd been like when he'd first started traveling with Rose and the Doctor, when he was still a kid trying to be an adult and pretending he was over the wonders of the universe already. But then he would watch Rose's eyes light up unreservedly at some completely ordinary sight, like the one they were seeing now, and that light would shine so bright that it was reflected in the eyes of a broken nine-hundred-year-old soldier. It was wonder. That incomparable wonder cured the soul of all evils, if one was fortunate enough to find it amidst a sea of death and violence.

If he tried hard enough to see it through Ignis's eyes, the cityscape _was_ beautiful, even if it was nothing new to him. A hazy dusk was brushing its color against the buildings, the gentle orange light fading to brilliant sapphire as it streaked the shadowed edges of the blunt-tipped towers black. Their silhouettes rose high above the rest of the city, breaking up the flat terrain with dramatic spires and shadowy columns speckled with points of light. The layers of traffic, with their lines of halting head and tail lights, combined with the glowing sea of lit-up windows of the lower buildings, flipping what should have been a starry night sky to the ground instead.

But it was a façade. Even with the CO2 scrubbers working at full capacity, the smog lingered in the atmosphere, at least muffling the roar of traffic they couldn't hear through the thick layer of glass. Even as they watched the deceptively peaceful scene, a silent gust of wind kicked up, sending that smog billowing away along with several tiles from the roofs of some of the lower towers.

But Jack brushed aside the realism for a moment in favor of Ignis still standing enraptured with a kind of yearning that made him appear both ancient and youthful to Jack's eyes. If he could share in this with Ignis for just a moment, maybe get him to look in his direction with that fiery spark of wonder, perhaps Jack could recapture a faded fragment of his own lost youth.

"Just think of it, Ignis," he whispered, leaning close to his ear and resisting the urge to take his hand. "Every point of light you see is a soul, forging their own path and following their own dreams in this world. Seeing it from up here, it's all so tiny and insignificant, but to them? Their lives are giants."

But instead of having the desired effect, his words doused that quietly burning ember entirely.

"What's wrong?"

Ignis's lips parted to speak, but it was several moments before he said softly, "The words are familiar, but the voice is wrong. You remind me of her; I can see why she liked you."

"Your wife? So I've met her, then?"

But instead of answering, he slowly turned back to the window, his expression rigid. After several seconds of silence between them, he answered, "The woman with the black hair that gave you the code."

"Ahh yeah," he lied, "I think I remember her. She was _gorgeous_."

"Yes, you made that perfectly clear when you attempted to kiss her."

So some similarities carried across universes, then. Good. He'd hate to think of a version of himself out there somewhere not living up to his reputation, but he wondered if his alternate self had endured what he had—mostly the Time Agency's betrayal, since the Doctor and the events leading to Jack's immortality didn't exist in this—or any other—universe, besides his own. He wondered how he'd come to have the same alias when he hadn't yet left the Time Agency, what sort of man he was if he hadn't met Rose or the Doctor.

"I knew a girl like that once, too," he said with a faraway smile of remembrance. "Changed my life forever." He chuckled a little at his inside joke, but inwardly, he was hoping for nothing more than that wherever Rose was, she was living that fantastic life he and the Doctor had always wanted for her—that somewhere in the multiverse, her bright brown eyes were lighting up with joy at taking in some spectacular sight like this one.

He looked over to see Ignis studying him contemplatively, his gaze burning with the unspoken question that Jack could read off his face like a book.

"She died."

Which wasn't technically true, but Rose existed in a different time stream now, which made her just as dead as she was alive—Schrödinger's Rose.

Ignis had inhaled and opened his mouth to reply, but a sharp, commanding voice rising over the sound of hundreds of people passing them by caught their attention.

"We don't have the time to put it on the docket today. Senator Amidala is proposing new legislature to pacify the Separatists, and it would be best to wait until the Jedi Council got back to us on their report."

"But Senator! The gale forces are causing the underworld inhabitants to migrate up into the city levels. Violent crime has risen 200% in the last month. If we don't find the solution . . . I'm telling you whatever this is is unnatural. Even the lower levels of the over city are beginning to feel it."

Jack's ears piqued at the word 'unnatural,' and he turned to face the two beings hurrying up the hall.

No matter what universe he was in, there was always one thing that would always be true: that word usually meant trouble, and he was willing to bet at least four bottles of hypervodka that this was the trouble they were sent here to sort out, thus sorting out the trouble on Eos, which would _hopefully_ allow him to get back to his team . . . somehow.

Adopting his most winning smile, Jack stepped into the current of traffic and cut off the route of the two people they had overheard. "What seems to be the problem, ladies and gents?" he asked jovially, swaggering closer to the red-headed human woman and holding out a hand. "Captain Jack Harkness."

She was even more colorfully dressed than Ignis, standing next to him with his arms crossed in his studded purple leopard print. While the royal blue velvet suit definitely highlighted the subtle lavender undertones of the woman's skin, Jack had to say that a kind of nostalgia blossomed in his chest at the sight of the black and white creeper saddle shoes he hadn't seen since the 1950s—even if they'd never been laced in neon lime green in his time.

As the woman cautiously reached out to shake his hand, he turned his smile to the being standing next to her. Jack didn't recognize the species of the alien standing with its head cocked to one side to better utilize one of its lidless, black eyes to stare down at him. The figure was about three meters tall with a long, thin neck covered in brown splotches; a grey, pointed face; and several rows of sharp teeth, which were bared either menacingly in its snarling mouth or in a smile of greeting. Two of its six heavily-muscled arms ended in long-fingered orange hands that gripped two small stacks of books.

Neither of them offered a name, instead turning their attention toward Ignis as though looking for an explanation. Some unspoken communication seemed to pass between the three of them as the two strangers wordlessly questioned who they were and why, exactly, they were butting in on the conversation.

"Ignis Scientia, Duke of Kettier of the planet Eos," Ignis said formally with a slight bow—deep enough to be polite but not enough to establish himself as lower on the pecking order, so the kid obviously had a lot of experience dealing with these types. "Our most humble apologies, but as investigators of the paranormal, we couldn't help but overhear your predicament. We may be able to be of some assistance if you would be so kind as to give us more information."

"Oh, thank the Supreme One!" the being Jack had identified as a shark-giraffe sighed, using a third long-fingered hand to wipe its chin dripping with some sort of blue bodily fluid. "There are strong gusts of wind originating from somewhere in the underlevels of the city, but we can't pinpoint the exact location, nor do we know how to stop it! It's getting stronger as the days go by, threatening to rip the lower floors out from some of the older buildings in the area and forcing the riffraff to move higher up into the city."

Jack flashed a calming, pearly-white smile up at the nervous person. "And I don't believe I've gotten your name, either," he said as he held out a hand to it. "Captain Jack Harkness." The being's black eyes widened in bedazzlement, an enticing purple flush spreading across its gray cheeks.

"Hyrithik," the being replied, still shaking his hand and smiling shyly. "And this is Senator Patton."

Jack spread his lips wider. "Nice to meet you, Hyrithik."

"Now that we're all introduced," Ignis cut in, stepping closer, "shall we discuss the matter of your weather issue?"

The senator's light amber eyes traveled up from Ignis's sparkly boots to his mop of hair suspiciously. "I think the Jedi Council has the matter under control."

Jack caught Ignis's attention, widening his eyes in a glare and nodding his head in their new acquaintances' direction in a wordless message he could only hope Ignis understood: _stall_.

Ignis's mouth dropped open a little in disbelief, but his attention darted immediately back to the other two. "And the Council has been unable to locate the source of the issue, you say?"

As the conversation continued, Jack brought his arm up to flip over his wrist strap, scanning for atmospheric or temporal anomalies that could possibly be responsible for abnormal wind velocity in the area. His broken vortex manipulator, really more of a multi-functional tool, was meant more for surface-level scanning in the field and not the intense, deep scans Tosh's equipment back at the hub was capable of. But his equipment was from the fifty-first century, not the twenty-first as Tosh's was, so it only took a few seconds longer to find what he was looking for. He zeroed in on the area a few blocks from here, running universal, resonant frequency, and temporal readings to determine what they were dealing with.

"But, Senator Patton," Hyrithik protested. "The Council's initial findings revealed no—"

"Hyrithik," Senator Patton snapped. "The point is, we have no idea who these gentlemen are or where they come from."

"I assure you, we're more than capable of researching such a phenomenon," Ignis said.

"A duke of a planet I've never heard of and . . . whatever he's supposed to be a captain of?"

Jack didn't look up from his vortex manipulator as he spoke in a confident, ringing tone, "You've got a simple temporal shift at street level in that direction. They can sometimes crop up when you've got interdimensional instability, and we've already taken care of that," Jack said, pointing in the direction of the shift. In reality, he knew a hell of a lot more than that—the anomaly was located 6.3 kilometers north-northwest from their current position, and he could even give accurate global coordinates down to a dime. But nothing would make him sound like more of an idiot than using a bunch of units these people likely wouldn't understand, and he wasn't enough of a Star Wars fan to remember if parsecs was a standard galactic unit of measurement.

"The shift in time is rippling like an aurora there, opening up a wormhole to a point roughly a hundred thousand years in your past," Jack continued in the wake of the silence. "Absolutely _spewing_ gusts of wind up to 145 meters per second." He winced a little at his use of the term 'meters,' but what could he say? Those were some _strong_ suckers.

"Now . . . we all know the Jedi are powerful, but they just don't have the tech to deal with temporal anomalies. We're happy to do it, but as you've probably guessed, this isn't our world, so we'd be just as happy to leave you to it."

"What do you want?" the senator asked cautiously.

Jack was about to step forward and tell her that it depended completely on what she wanted, but Ignis beat him to the punch.

"We require no repayment. As researchers of the phenomenon, we would be benefitting from the data we collect as we corrected the issue. We only ask that you clear the area of civilians as we close the portal."

"I suppose there's nothing to lose and everything to gain. Fine," she huffed, glaring over at Jack for some reason. "I'll send the riot police to clear the area. It's less inhabited as of late, though that doesn't mean it isn't still a dangerous area. But allow me to make it clear now that we're not responsible if something happens to you."

"Of course, Senator," Ignis said with another bow. "We'll leave to handle the issue straightaway."

* * *

The tails of Jack's coat slapped at the air behind him, acting as a sail and threatening to tear him off the utility pole he was clinging to as he did his best to squint against the blizzard of crumbled papers and half-decayed food wrappers being hurled past his face. Where was Ignis in all this? Was he okay? Jack thought he might have heard Ignis's voice yelling for him the second the gale had unexpectedly burst from nowhere like a faucet slapped on full blast, but the roar of the wind scraping over his ears was making it pretty much impossible to hear and correctly identify anything.

Until everything abruptly stopped—just as unexpectedly as it'd started—allowing his feet and knees to crash to the sidewalk. As the humid night air grew still and quiet, he slowly let his arms loosen from the pole that had saved him from dying—again (and he sure as hell didn't want to have to explain _that_ whole process to Ignis). Still half collapsed face first into the streetlamp and catching his breath, he was about to call out to check on Ignis when his soft, polite tones reached his ears.

"Are you all right?" Ignis asked—way too calmly to have been through what he just had.

Jack opened his eyes, pushed himself away from the pole, and sat back on his knees.

Ignis was standing perfectly composed about ten meters away, his hand reaching tentatively out toward him. Here in the dark, grimy slums of the lower city, Ignis stuck out like a Raxacoricofallapatorian shopping for cereal at Tesco's. The single streetlamp directly above his head seemed to set his hair on golden fire, but his expression was cast in an eerie shadow that made him look like a noir detective from one of those cheesy films in the 1940s. Garbage bags and half-rotted trash piled up on the edge of the sidewalk were still lying scattered and defeated at his feet, which at least explained why Ignis appeared so unruffled.

"Yeah, I'm okay. So," he said with a groan as he got to his feet, "looks like this portal opens in only one direction, and as usual, I happened to be standing on the wrong side."

"Well, well. It seems we found what we were looking for," Ignis said thoughtfully as he sauntered closer. "The portal seems to only open for seconds at a time. I can't speak on your behalf, of course, but I'm certain my abilities are up to the challenge—whatever needs to be done."

"Oh my abilities are up to the challenge, all right," he said with a wink and a leer. "I'm pretty talented in a lot of things, if you're interested in finding out."

Ignis picked his way closer, careful to keep his shoes as clean as possible despite the dirty street. "Perhaps you could put those talents of yours to a more fruitful use and tell me how to close this portal before another gust of wind rips through here."

"Easy enough—it works the same as the gates, since they're what's causing the problem. Just jump through the portal when it activates again. It would've happened eventually had someone come along at just the right time, but then the poor sucker wouldn't have had a way to get back home."

"We'll have mere moments to jump through before the wind picks up. And then we'll be able to take the gate on the other side back to Eos?"

"Readings say it's still there on the other side, so I don't see why not. No guarantee where it'll drop us back though. Pretty sure it's temporally unstable on Coruscant's side, if your friend was only recently here hundreds of years ago."

"Leave that to me," Ignis said confidently, and Jack raised an eyebrow at him. Jack himself had no idea how he was going to get back to his universe when they returned to Eos, and with his vortex manipulator having been broken for nearly two hundred years now, he had no confidence he could return Ignis anywhere should they land wrong.

"You got some tech or something from that wife of yours?" he asked. If she knew Time Agency protocol, maybe she was another rogue agent.

"I wouldn't call it tech, but it serves the same purpose," he said, before his eyes suddenly shot to a point at shoulder height in front of them. "That. There. A shift in the air. Do you feel it? It'll happen soon."

He couldn't feel a thing, but he was no stranger to following those who had that mysterious connection with a higher plane. Of his current team, Gwen had possessed the strongest he'd ever seen until meeting this kid—always just _knowing_ things, _feeling_ things about the realm beyond their limited human perception in a way Jack never could.

"I can't feel it," he admitted. "You're gonna have to tell me—"

"Now!"

Jack grasped Ignis's shoulder, closed his eyes, and stepped forward.

He'd expected the windstorm to immediately begin whipping them away the second they'd landed on the other side of the temporal shift, but the air on his skin was completely still as his hand fell from Ignis's shoulder and he opened his eyes.

He hadn't been expecting it to be so bright where they'd landed, either. The light streaming in from the high windows of the tower they'd found themselves in reflected off the high ceiling, the scalloped alcoves of the doors, and the twisting columns that trimmed the space. Iridescent color and shapes painted in shimmering pigment covered every stone panel looming over their heads, like elaborate rugs of cobalt, teal, and gold. The assault of the intricate designs almost made him dizzy after the temporal shift—the thousands of swirling vines and flowers, delicate mandalas, and twisting borders almost popping out from the walls to insert themselves directly into his visual cortex.

"Look up," Jack heard Ignis whisper, and he obeyed, his mouth parting in appreciation at the scene hovering high above their heads.

Between wrought-iron-paned windows that let in diamond-shaped shafts of sunlight was the vaulted dome ceiling, painted in artfully-precise geometric arrangements of golden flowers and paisley. At the very pinnacle of the dome rested a glimmering golden mandala encrusted with teal jewels the size of Jack's head.

"Look at those perfect geometric patterns. Worshippers of math _and_ art," Jack said in hushed voice.

"I believe we're standing in what will become the ruins the Hiso will rebuild into Coruscant."

"How do ya figure?" Jack asked, raising his wrist to check.

"We have similar architecture on Eos, relics of the Solheimian Empire, though old enough that only unadorned levels, mostly underground, exist today. Still, some of the geometric patterning on the walls remains, similar to this place. Given the evidence, I would say that we've arrived just after the second fall of Solheim."

"Evidence?"

Ignis pointed to the seams between the walls and floors, out of which grew the occasional tender green weed among small drifts of gritty dirt. There'd been something about the place that even his subconsciousness had picked up on—maybe the dead quiet beyond the wind whipping through the tiny windows—that told him they were alone.

"A hundred thousand years in the past, and no signs of life in the immediate area," he confirmed as he checked the readings his manipulator was displaying. "Helluva storm brewing out there though. Same source as the one in the future, but weaker, since it's not being funneled through the time vortex."

Ignis didn't tear his eyes away from the ceiling at his words, but nodded silently in understanding.

At least he seemed to be taking things in stride.

"We should go," he said finally, though still clearly distracted by the collision of art and math surrounding them. "Time travel or no, I shouldn't be away for long."

The intricate paint job still dominated every surface as they made their way down the silent halls of vaulted ceilings, but the colors had gradually grown lighter to reflect more sunlight as they progressed through the building. From the brief glimpses he got into brightly-lit rooms half-veiled by hand-carved doors of vibrant red wood, this must have served as a place of learning at one point—the overturned claw-footed desks still occupied by several hundred bleached-out skeletons the most obvious hint. He wondered what could've happened to this place to wipe out the population but leave the architecture mostly intact.

"Wait," Ignis whispered, holding out a hand to stop him when he'd poked his head in the next door they'd come across. "This one is an office."

Jack tensed as he followed behind him into the small, dark laboratory office, growing a little impatient to leave this place. In his experience, wandering around post-apocalyptic worlds tended to end with him running naked through the streets with some legendary monster chasing after him. And as much as he wouldn't mind being one of the only two naked, beautiful men left on this planet, he was eager to get at least one universe closer to returning to his team—if there was even a universe for him to return to after leaving them alone in the hub for the day . . . or decade, depending on whenever he was spit back out when he got home again.

Ignis rushed behind the desk, bypassing what looked like a microscope from the early 28th century in favor of the white skeleton lying half draped across an open book.

"Apologies," he murmured as he carefully pinched the edge of the dusty tome between two gloved fingers and pulled it out from beneath the skeleton's shredded and decayed robes. Glancing down at the book, he said, "A journal dating back to the first fall of Solheim on Eos. This book would be ancient by this man's standards. I wonder what happened that he should feel the need to read it just before he died."

"You can try asking him, but I don't think he's gonna answer. And I really don't wanna be around when whatever did this ends up waking up and coming for us," he replied, beckoning Ignis back toward the hall.

"I must say I agree," he said as glanced one more time around the office, hesitated, then placed a hand on the microscope.

When it disappeared beneath his fingers at the same moment as the book, Jack frowned, stepping forward to lead him out of the room. "Not a good idea to be taking stuff from outside your time. You end up curing your disease because of that thing? You could end up causing a paradox that'll end your world."

"The book isn't outside my time but in my past. As to the microscope—only if our demise led to its invention."

As they re-entered the hall, Jack's steps slowed a little. "It's more complicated than that. Yeah, you can't create a paradox with the microscope, but neither can you create one with every person that lives that shouldn't have. Since you have no way of knowing what future fixed points you'll affect, I wouldn't recommend using that."

"I assure you, the only person touching this instrument will be a time sensitive being, and if she refuses, it'll be destroyed. But look, the light grows stronger up ahead. Perhaps we've nearly reached the entrance to this place."

Jack examined him carefully, remembering the sacrifice he was making just by not letting his infected people storm this gate. After a long moment, he decided to let the matter pass. "A lot of experience being lost in ruins?"

"Oh, you've _no_ idea," Ignis said with a smug smile.

It was another few minutes before their ornately decorated little hallway fed into another grand, wide-open rotunda nearly identical to the one they'd landed in, but the towering arch that led out into a sun-drenched courtyard brought with it the loss of protection of four complete walls. The damage from light, wind, dirt, and time done to this room was striking—the lavish patterns peeling off the walls, chunks of masonry crumbling in piles on the ground, and rippling drifts of golden sand climbing up the corners. Even as they stood in the protection of their hallway and watched, a solid curtain of sand and leaves blew through the open passage, adding to the pile of debris on the other side of the room.

"This won't do at all," Ignis muttered as they drew closer to the archway. "Surely, Laura must have _something_."

He continued to murmur as Jack shielded his eyes as best he could and poked his head around the corner—big mistake. Pulling back, he rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to settle that itching burn of grit lodged under his lids. They had 6.3 kilometers to cover in this, and the only way he saw for them to make it there was to take their shirts off and use them to cover their faces.

Yep, they were so gonna end up naked, being chased through this dead place by some legendary monster out to eat them.

"Take these," Ignis commanded, thrusting a long strip of fabric and something metal into Jack's hands.

"Are these . . . aviator goggles from 1920s Earth?" he asked incredulously, slipping the leather strap around his head and adjusting the heavy metal eye rings. The length of white muslin he wrapped around his neck, up over his head, and around his mouth and nose before looking to Ignis, who was adjusting his 182nd century Mondasian safety goggles over his glasses.

"So I've been told," he replied, his voice a little muffled by the layers of heavy black fabric wrapped around his face. Jack could hear the cocky grin in his voice as he said, "Well, shall we go and see which way the wind is blowing?"

Instead of answering, Jack gave him the thumbs up and stepped out into the sandblasted courtyard. It looked like it had once been filled with thick, green landscaping, and judging by the tall, bleached out bones of the trees rising above the roof of the building, this had all once been lush forest, blasted away by wind and sand and time. In another thousand years or so, he bet this entire building would be stripped to bare stone, possibly buried by sand, and he didn't envy the excavating and terraforming work the Hiso would have to do to get this place back into shape.

Together, they waded through the shin-deep piles and past the endless alcoves along the wall, Ignis leading by a meter or so as Jack used the shelter of his broad shoulders to avoid some of the sand whipping into his head wrap. Judging by how long they had walked indoors, Jack assumed them to be at the furthest end of a square U-shaped courtyard—a long one.

He was about to make a lame joke about this weather taking the wind out of his sails, since Ignis seemed to be into that kinda humor, when he heard a thunk and a soft curse as Ignis's body jerked forward.

"What is it?" he called over the sound of the wind, peering over Ignis's shoulder to see what had caught his attention.

Jack spotted and followed the incomprehensible wall of color up, up—all the way to the roof of the half collapsed and crumbling wing of the building whose clutches they couldn't seem to escape. It took a few seconds examining the mass of leather and feathers, but something finally seemed to click, and Jack understood.

If he had to classify the creature draped and curled across the caved-in roof, he'd call it a dragon-phoenix, he guessed—with wide leathery wings the color of golden sunset edged in dusky purple ribbing, a long and scaly tail of deep plum, a long neck covered in crimson scales that looked like feathers, and a silver mask-like face ending in a sharp beak.

"Impressive," Jack said with a whistle. Pointing at the fifteen harpoon-like weapons sticking out of the massive creature's back just from their vantage point alone, he said, "Looks like one helluva battle."

Ignis didn't reply as he carefully climbed over a pile of rubble to where the bird's head, nearly the size of Ignis himself, rested with its silver beak brushing the golden grains of sand. He crouched and reached out tentatively, his hand freezing centimeters above the shining beak before he made contact, gently running his fingers toward the pointed tip.

"You said that time was unstable on this side of the gate," Ignis began, and Jack nodded, not knowing where this was going. "Then, if the Solheimians escaped the war with Ifrit, and this creature, and that one over there, followed soon after, would it be possible for enough time to have passed for Solheim to establish another empire before they arrived?"

Jack looked in the direction Ignis had indicated with his head as he had spoken, squinting against the flying dirt and leaves to examine the body lying on its side, a harpoon sticking up from between two of its six legs and up into its chest. Despite being half buried in dirt, the horse's pale coat and dark hooves capped in decorative silver flourishes glimmered in the bright sun. The gold and indigo armor glinted in the light, highlighting the contrast with its burgundy-tinged mane and tail. What unsettled Jack about the creature's appearance, however, was the snarling sharp fangs in its mouth and the still glowing scarlet eye.

"Yeah, that's possible. Why?"

Ignis's attention traveled up to one of the gold-tipped horns on top of the dragon-phoenix's head. "When we encountered Garuda, Messenger of the Winds, we suspected there was a God of the Winds. This must be the Zephyrnian's Astral body. She's beautiful," he breathed in awe. "She must have sided with Ifrit and followed after Solheim in the war. I imagine when she was killed, she migrated to her Messenger body, sealed in its statue for defying them."

The kid believed in gods? That was a little surprising, as most species with alien contact tended to turn to science and mathematics once they'd reached a certain point in development. But it wasn't Jack's place to say anything, so he let Ignis stroke the enormous bird and believe it was the corpse of his wind god. It wasn't that Jack didn't believe in creatures with elemental powers; in fact, his scans proved this thing's corpse was the source of the weather disturbance. There were plenty of beings out there in the universe beyond his understanding—like his own goddess, the Bad Wolf, who'd turned him immortal. But he wasn't naïve enough to believe that Rose had been anything more than a very special human being.

"And that fellow over there? Do you recognize him?" he asked, nodding to the horse. "The God of Death, maybe?"

"What makes you say that?" Ignis asked sharply, turning to face him. Jack couldn't fathom his expression through the swirled glass of his old aviator goggles and the tinted plastic of Ignis's safety goggles, but he sounded upset.

Jack recited in a slow, heavy voice, "I looked, and behold, a pale horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth."

"I'd say we've come close to being extinguished by all those recently, but where is that from?"

"The Bible, it's the holy book of a popular Earth religion."

"Mmm," he said, turning back toward the horse. "It's a Messenger or a High Messenger, all right—or it _was_. I can taste it. But the rather questionable book I read on Messengers mentioned an emissary of death. There was no description—only a name . . . Sleipnir, but then that would mean there's yet another Astral unaccounted for."

"Yep, that would be Sleipnir, all right. Old Norse says it's the eight-legged horse of Odin . . . so, close enough. Bet your . . . Astral's named Odin then—god of knowledge, war, and battle, according to old Earth Norse mythology. Also known as the wanderer."

"Another expert in Earth mythology?"

"Hey," Jack barked, raising his hands in defense, "gotta know this kinda stuff in my line of work, since myth usually ends up coming to life and trying to kill me."

Ignis stood, stretching his back and beating his hands against his jeans. "I suppose I can't fault you there, but then where could this Odin be? Somewhere else on this planet? Escaped through another gate? Still on Eos? One of our Kings of Yore is called the Wanderer, but given what Eos went through for mixing with mortals, I highly doubt Odin and the Wanderer are one in the same."

"Well, if he's dead anywhere on your world and leaking power like this wind elemental is, I think you'd notice, so he's either alive on your world or somewhere else on another world."

"Correct, and we don't display his image anywhere that I'm aware of. Our artistic depictions of death feature a skeletal figure draped in a black hoo . . .." His voice grew quieter beneath the wind still blowing over Jack's ears as he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts. "Black hood. Pitioss. There would only be one place to store an Astral body exuding death—a place where time is on a continuous loop and death is rendered meaningless."

Jack had nothing to add to this particular portion of the dialogue, so he crossed his arms and watched as Ignis began to pace agitatedly back and forth, his hands twitching. Jack thought he could hear him muttering until he finally stopped and spun to face him.

"The massive skull on top of the barge! But surely Laura would have noticed his corpse? . . . no! Time was disorienting her both days we were there. What an astronomical discovery! But does this mean Odin was guarding Eos's prison? Did Sleipnir turn against his Astral? It's a pity we have no way of finding out."

"You know," Jack chuckled, envisioning the tenth incarnation of the Doctor and his frenetic pacing as his mind picked at some potentially world-ending puzzle, "you remind me of an old friend."

"And to think—tens of thousands of years it will likely take for this all to be swept away," he said just loudly enough to be heard over the whipping wind, "for their bodies to _finally_ erode away and for the Hiso to come and rebuild what's left of this—to transform it into the living and breathing Coruscant we only just left. Time truly does have a way of making us so very small. Even the gods bow to their mother's power eventually."

A shiver passed down Jack's spine at his words, and he jammed his hands in his pockets and stared through the swirls in his old and imperfect goggles at the child still enraptured before two of his deities. This was the occupational hazard of hanging around ephemerals—the constant little reminders that he wasn't one—that his big, stupid heart would instantly fall in love and get attached before losing even someone as young and strapping as Ignis.

Humans were so full of joie de vivre, reckless with their fragile lives, burning hot and cold, eager to consume and mate and _run_. But then they would say something funny like Ignis just had, and the façade Jack held up for even himself would slip, and he would remember. Time would never make him feel small again. For him, time itself was getting smaller with each passing day he lived through it—until one day, he would take up all of time. There would be nothing left but him and time itself.

But no matter what, Jack couldn't give up. He'd do his best to feel that joie de vivre, to consume and mate and run right alongside them. It was all he could do, since going mad and murdering everyone like some immortals tended to do wasn't an option for him.

Ignis let out an exasperated huff, interrupting his thoughts. "Honestly? The dramatic hero with his coat whipping back in the wind? Though the silhouette is rather impressive, the effect is somewhat lost with the headgear."

"Oh yeah? I can inspire you with a more impressive silhouette later if you want," he laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Ignis let his attention wander over to the two dead bodies. "There's nothing more we can do here," he said forlornly. "Let us return to a time and place where mortal men can still make a difference."

* * *

He was half-expecting to find nothing when they reached the spot where the portal was located—set into a stone-block courtyard surrounded by heavy stone slabs covered in more of that circular writing. What could he say? It had just been a weird kinda day—pretty heavy in time and dimensional travel, even for him, and not the luckiest. He wondered what had happened to those pizzas—what part of time and space they had been dropped in if they had managed to get pulled into the Rift.

But the bronze disc, this time covered in that same circular writing he'd been seeing all day, was present and accounted for, if a little derelict, covered in a thick layer of earth and long dead leaves at the foot of a circular tower, half smashed through by the boulders from an adjacent rocky cliff.

"This must've been some kinda interdimensional welcoming station," Jack said as he surveyed the area. There was something about the building looming up on the hill above their heads that smacked of the Roman Forum, with its intricately carved and painted columns and imposing set of stone steps that led up to the towering open archway. Seriously, between the attitude behind the architecture and the fact that only Time Lords could travel between dimensions—back when they still existed—Jack was beginning to wonder if he'd just stumbled on an old Gallifreyan outpost on some backwater planets in some backwater universes somewhere. He'd have to ask the Doctor the next time they ran into each other.

He turned to the gate and ran a quick scan, wincing under his headgear as the manipulator registered the chronon readings on the other side of the gate.

"Yeah, we got a problem. Looks like if we jump in now, we're gonna land a hundred thousand years in your past. Dunno about you, but I don't feel up to waiting around that long to catch up."

Far from panicking at Jack's assessment, Ignis slipped his hand underneath his scarf and shirt collar. "Nor do I, but I believe there may be something I can do about that."

Was Jack _finally_ gonna get to see this tech? Given the dimensionally transcendental nature of it combined with all the odd Gallifreyan references here, Jack was also beginning to wonder if this kid's wife wasn't a Time Lord herself. But instead of pulling out a CB radio held together by rubber bands and three plastic forks like the Doctor would have, a bright blue pendant wrapped in a silver tree was pinched between Ignis's thumb and forefinger. There was nothing to identify its culture of origin as far as Jack could tell. In fact, it looked like the kinda thing he could buy at a new age shop back in Cardiff.

"Your wife—what species is she?"

Ignis raised his head to the sky, seeming to concentrate on something as he continued to hold the pendant between his thumb and forefinger. "Lliamérian from the planet Miriásia, though she's spent a number of years on Earth as well."

Which, of course, meant nothing to him, but at least the answer hadn't been Time Lord or Gallifreyan, as he didn't think he could handle having to tell the Doctor after everything that'd gone down with the Master that yet another member of his species had survived and was hiding out after the Time War.

But even with his extensive travel experience, there were just too many planets, too many species out there for him to be able to recognize all of them. And who the hell knew if he'd met her lot under a different name back in his home universe? He kinda hoped she was waiting for them on the other side of this. She sounded like the kinda girl he wanted to meet—definitely sounded hot, and maybe he could work through her to get _both_ of them into bed before he got back home.

After several seconds of silence, he said, "Right. It can be done, but it may take a minute or two."

"I got time," he laughed. "What're you doing with that there?"

"Establishing a stronger telepathic link with this," he replied, gesturing with the pendant, "then reaching through the portal, alerting Laura's dormant connection on the other side, and contacting one of her . . . friends to help us manipulate the setting on the portal. It's . . ." Jack could hear the wry smile in his voice as he said, "complicated—with a lot of relay involved."

"Your bond transcends _time_?"

"And space, yes, but not dimensions, which is why all the relaying is necessary—a game of telephone, if you will."

Jack waited in silence as Ignis did his telepathy thing, a little unsettled that he was the ex-Time Agent sitting around and waiting for the equivalent of a 21st century human to complete some hairbrained scheme to get them back to where they belonged. He wasn't used to being the one waiting to be rescued—something that was gonna be happening with him and his team as soon as he got back to the right time on the other side of this gate. Did that mean he'd officially become the damsel in distress? That could be kinda hot . . . maybe he and Ianto could concoct a little roleplaying scenario around that premise when he got back.

"All right," Ignis sighed. "I believe she's got it, but she can't pull us until we've already entered the portal. I'm told to expect a bit of a difficult journey, but I must say I'm quite ready to be shot of this sand-blasted place."

"Nah, don't worry about it," Jack said, slapping Ignis on the back and stepping up to the gate. "I'm pretty used to a rough ride if you know what I mean."

Jack got the sense that Ignis was rolling his eyes, judging by the way his head was rolling on his shoulders. "Here," he said, pulling off a glove and holding out his hand. "I'm told we'll need direct contact for this; do try to contain yourself."

He wished Ignis could see the grin spreading over his lips as he interlaced their fingers, but he kept silent for once as they stepped onto the platform together.

Teleporting wasn't exactly a new experience for him; he'd been teleported accidentally or on purpose at least once a week since his first time with the Time Agency at twenty years old. He'd been yanked away by natural phenomena that had killed him, like the Rift; attempted to traverse time and space with rudimentary tech, like these gates; space-hopped lightly from place to place with his vortex manipulator when it used to work; and traveled in style in a Time Lord's TARDIS.

This was on the less pleasant end of that spectrum.

The sensation of Ignis's warm hand in his disappeared—replaced with compression and pain as his body was sucked through a hole the size of a straw, constricting breath and blood and heartbeat and life as molten time poured into his head and seared him from the inside out. This was almost like being pulled through the time vortex stark naked.

There was something about the golden energy of the transport and the ethereal, inhuman song that floated in the non-atmosphere that reminded him of dying, but he couldn't think why.

Slurping back into existence with a painful gasp, he whipped his head in Ignis's direction in time to watch him crumple, and Jack leaned over to catch him by the chest and lower him to the deactivated gate.

"Easy there," Jack advised as Ignis ripped off his goggles and scarf to take deep, heaving gasps of the fresh air.

"I'm—fine—"

"No, you're more than fine," Jack chuckled, taking off his own goggles and muslin and laying them on the ground next to Ignis. "You're actually pretty hot, ya know?" Blunt emeralds glared up at him in response. "Sorry," Jack added. "Had to tell ya once, ya know?"

"And while I'm flattered by your admiration," he began, hauling himself to his feet, "not everyone feels the need to follow through with attraction."

"So! You admit it! You find me attractive, huh?"

Ignis pursed his lips together, his eyes flashing as he huffed a sigh through his nose. "That's beside the—"

" **Ignis Scientia.** "

Jack whirled and whipped out his pistol, aiming it toward the patch of shivering, shimmering air in the gap between the two rocks protecting the gate. The figure that morphed and coalesced into a gaseous cloud of rippling blue ribbons of light was enormous—quadruple his size and bulk. The ghostly metal armor appeared half-samurai, half robotic, with its skirt of delicate feathery chains obscuring its feet and the four segmented arms protruding at odd angles from its chest and shoulders. Ignis had mentioned the word 'demons' when Jack had first arrived, and this thing with its two large bullhorns sticking out of its helm certainly fit the bill, which was why Jack didn't lower his gun, even when Ignis crossed an arm over his chest and fell into a stiff and formal bow.

"Your Majesty."

" **Child of Solheim** ," the ghost-knight continued in a deep, husky voice that, frankly, sounded kinda hot. " **Blessed and cursed with the weight of your heritage, long have you walked alone with none to shoulder the burden. With the fulfillment of your journey, you have wandered far beyond that of your fellow man. I offer you the Wanderer's protection to honor your loyalty and dedication.** "

"Though I no longer travel alone, I most humbly accept any protection _in addition to_ that which I'm already afforded," Ignis said, his voice developing an edge of defiance as he continued to stare down at the ground in front of him.

" **Then take my sigil and prosper, Son of Solheim, in the name of the King of Lucis** ," the Wanderer replied, holding out a gauntleted hand radiating with the light of a star. Without raising his head, Ignis cupped both hands and held them out, accepting the Wanderer's gift.

"Jack?" came a crackling static from his manipulator. Tosh—of all the times to be interrupted, but it wasn't like it was an everyday thing for his team to reach across dimensions.

"Yeah, is it possible to hang on a sec?" Jack answered in a murmur, keeping his eyes locked on the self-proclaimed Wanderer.

Ignis's long fingers curled around a small silver disc bearing the mark of three interlocking gold triangles, and the knight floated back a ways before disappearing in another flash of light without another word. Jack cautiously lowered his gun as Tosh answered, "A minute, maybe, but no more. It's taking all we have to hold the Rift open, and we can only sustain it as long as you stay right in that spot for some reason. It's the same energy signature that pulled you there in the first place."

"You have to leave," Ignis said softly, not making eye contact until he had straightened and turned in his direction. When Jack gave a single nod in response, Ignis held out his hand to shake. "It was a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I do hope we can meet again under better circumstances."

"Yeah, you bet," he lied. "Best not to bring this meeting up with me next time you see me though, just in case it hasn't happened yet."

"I understand."

"All right, my team's gonna activate the disc, so you'd better stand off to the side." Pulling himself straight and rigid, Jack brought his hand to his forehead in a formal salute. "Goodbye, Ignis Scientia," he said heavily, pressing the button that would send a signal through the Rift to his team. "And good luck."

Jack took a step back, keeping his eyes locked curiously on Ignis's until that shift and flash of gold carried him off into death's embrace once more.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

So, I didn't choose this planet to be Coruscant just because Star Wars, although that was fortuitous. I thought the Solheim and Coruscant skylines looked a bit similar. Another cool thing was something the characters would never be able to know: the planet seen from space looks quite a bit like what I've called Solheimian writing (which, canonically comes from the Oracle or Ramuh, depending whether you go by main game lore or Episode Duscae).


	88. Chapter 88

**Author's Note:**

Warning: NSFW the end of this chapter.

* * *

Ignis leaned forward, dragging the black dualhorn-toothed comb up through the long strands that would hang down his forehead and into his eyes, but when he reached the very tips, he paused for a moment, thinking.

 _What if I combed my hair like this, instead?_ he asked Laura's softly glowing thread slumbering in the back of his mind. He pulled back on his bangs, smoothing the tips to lay against his hair instead of sticking straight up.

Not that he was expecting an answer. The fine line that they'd had to balance between converting as many plants as possible and not draining her so much that she died meant that their bridge had remained dark and silent nearly every day for the past two years. And it wasn't as though the inhuman mind fast asleep around his neck would be offering up fashion advice, either.

Placing the comb back on the vanity, he frowned, tilting his head this way and that as he inspected his reflection in the mirror. His customary hairstyle had grown far too youthful, too fashionable for a man that carried the considerable weight of his position, and though he had no desire to appear older when Laura at last awoke, it had grown long past the time to do this.

He could imagine her there beside him if he closed his eyes, standing on her toes to lean her chin against his shoulder and blowing soft breaths against his ear as she chuckled warmly. "I think you would look incredibly handsome," she would say.

"Your opinion is hardly trustworthy," he would reply haughtily. "You _always_ think that."

Perhaps she would wrap her arms around his waist and lean into his side. With a huff of exasperation, he'd put his comb down and turn to her, raising his arm to settle around her shoulders and pulling her close to rest his lips in her hair.

"Because it's always true," she'd mumble into his chest.

Honestly, this was no time for fantasies.

There was one last act of rebellion he could commit against this more subdued style, miniscule as it was, to portray to the world that they had not tamed him completely. He plucked one tendril of hair from the perfectly smooth pompadour to lie straight down his forehead and near his left eye—a secret message that though he may appear to be straight-laced and mild-mannered, he wasn't a toothless babe. He would bite back, if necessary, with ten times the strength of the original attack. It was, perhaps, too much for a single lock of hair to communicate, but as long as he knew that streak of defiance was there for all to see, at least he could feel he was representing himself genuinely. The aesthetic suited him, he believed, but he couldn't be certain until he'd tested it in public—where it would doubtless make the front page of Vyv's accursed papers in a matter of minutes, or even worse, _He's Got the Look_ —one of Vyv's magazines that had already threatened more than once to headline him and his 'striking features.'

He curled his toes into the plush golden rug and pulled the mirror back to reach for the small bottle of painkillers he kept there, but his hand paused just before making contact with the plastic. The pulsing ache pounding at his temples and just behind his eyes had been relentless this past week since he'd pinched his bond to nearly nothing, worse than even the days after Altissia. He'd spent the last two years nursing her cherished golden thread so that it was beginning to root itself into his mind, bleeding at the edges and fusing itself into his all too willing consciousness—which was why it had nearly blinded him when it had been severed the moment that Hiso gate had closed behind him. But the past week of taking medication seemed to have done little for the pain that time itself wasn't already doing, so he refrained. After all, how many of these pills still existed in the world?

Despite her absence, their bond had saved his life and limb more than once in the last couple of years. It had taken a year for him to find that he could access her Pocket on his own without Eilendil's help, though he often still needed assistance retrieving things he hadn't placed himself. Fortunately for his leg, he and the dragon had unlocked the secrets to sharing Laura's power several months later, clumsy though he still was at wielding such a painful, draining method of casting.

Instead of looking for relief in a pill, he ducked under the sink to grab a sponge and some spray to clean the vanity before he left for the morning. A quick scrub-down and rinse completed, he turned to eye the toilet and tub. It had been far too long since the house had had a thorough cleaning, and it seemed as though his efforts to do a little in his spare moments weren't quite enough to keep it as spotless as he preferred. The thought of hiring a maid flitted briefly though his mind, but he dismissed the thought immediately. He didn't care for the idea of a stranger intruding on his private life to complete a task he could do himself. He would just have to try harder.

Though scrubbing the bathtub before hopping back in himself seemed like just the thing for putting his mind at ease at three o'clock in the morning, there were far more important matters to attend to before meeting with his father, such as continuing his inspection of the journal he had picked up the week before on Coruscant. He stepped into his favorite blue house slippers despite being otherwise fully dressed in his Crownsguard uniform, summoned a bottle of his favorite coffee from Laura's Pocket, and made his way to his desk in the corner of their bedroom.

No matter how much he wanted to trail his fingertips over the onyx hair of the statue sitting on the corner of his desk, he refrained, recalling the number of statues he'd seen in Insomnia rubbed smooth by thousands of caresses over the years. Instead, he leaned forward in his creaking leather chair and inspected his latest, most important discovery. Ignis could only begin to speculate as to why the book had been out on the researcher's desk the day the second Solheim fell—a research project conducted by one of the university professors on diseases that plagued the first Solheim, perhaps. Perhaps it was more pernicious—an exploration of weaponizing viruses as they had in their Eosian days to launch a more effective counterattack against the Astrals that had followed them through the gate.

It hardly mattered why, really, with both civilizations long dead. Though it seemed that the journal wouldn't be as much of a windfall as he'd hoped, a quick perusal revealed that there would be some information here to offer guidance on what they should do to minimize this most recent horrific outbreak. Laura would be able to translate the language herself when she awoke, but since only the Oracle line was versed in circular Solheimian, he'd taken the liberty of working on a transcription to get the other ESI scientists started right away.

Of course, he couldn't read circular Solheimian himself, either.

Ignis closed his eyes, burying himself deep into his bond until the world fell away, leaving nothing but that thrum of life and time, teeming with power and knowledge so vast that it could kill him were he to attempt to contemplate all of it at once. He sat in silence, breathing deeply, until the beat of his heart fell into perfect synchronization with Laura's, so very far away. Like a curtain in the breeze, the veil lifted, and the golden pool of languages she shared with the TARDIS was revealed to him. Yet no matter how many times he'd done this, he could never seem to locate the right combination of the five billion languages they knew among the whirling cloud of memories.

There was nothing for it. He would require assistance—again.

 _Please forgive the intrusion,_ he called softly, reaching out to the connection Eilendil kept open for him. _Would you mind terribly pointing me in the right direction?_

With Laura's dormant connection, Ignis had become detached from the additional layer of complexity that telepathy added to the world, but Eilendil's presence was a soothing silver trickle at the back of his mind reminding him that no matter how difficult matters became, he was not alone in this. The dragon had proven a most comforting source of company—a companion that neither hovered nor fretted and yet had become his advisor, in a way. Like Laura, Eilendil was capable of keeping up with him and offering a different point of view, even if Ignis didn't always agree, and he never took it personally when Ignis chose not to follow his advice.

Ignis could only hear the low, incoherent grumble of a reply as the dragon's mind wrapped gently around his and guided him to the correct area of the pool, where circular languages such as Gallifreyan, Heptapodean, and Thrinakian resided.

The flood of information surging into his mind was always a rush—causing his heart to beat a little faster and the blood to pump through his veins as though he were on a hunt. It was unfortunate that his feeble human mind would only pull away from this experience with its usual amount of knowledge acquired, but little by little, he was learning to translate the graphemes on his own.

 _Thank you for your patience in dealing with this fallible human._

 _You would have fewer complications if you did not insist on adhering to your species' need to imagine a physical location for everything._

 _I do what I can._

 _Then save your species, Ignis Scientia, I shall be here if I am needed._

Ignis sent another brush of thanks before pulling out his pen and opening to the first few pages of the old text. The incomparable scent of mildew, ink, and paper hit his face in a cloud as he began to read and write.

 _ **60120724**_

 _Oh, by the Nine, I fear that we have undertaken a task beyond our ken. Our patient efforts to assist in keeping the Golden Mother alive paid off—allowing us to utilize just enough of her power to light our facilities and create the puzzle of time and space that is Pitioss without the gods' awareness—until Ifrit somehow discovered that Costlemark was more than what it seemed. He became enraged, hurling down a shower of meteors that have nearly destroyed the Archaean and the planet along with it. Our beloved sundial, crown of the kingdom of Solheim, is now a scar upon the planet, devoid of all life in a great sweeping circle in the middle of the continent. Reports say that death began to spread before the meteor fell, but I cannot see how such a weapon would be possible. Is this our just punishment for seeking the power of the gods?_

 _ **60140802**_

 _No longer do I have the time to write at my leisure as I once did. We are at war—a war we are sure to lose with the passage of time. Already our grand towers and centers of learning have been razed, our population suffering as all civil services make way for the battle. I fear we should not have challenged the gods so blatantly, for now we shall surely perish. Even the other Six have forsaken us._

 _ **60220327**_

 _I have an audience with the Queen regarding an ongoing secret research project that she requires my assistance with. I can only hope that whatever it is will bring peace between god and man once more. Yet I fear for this upcoming encounter. They say the Queen has the power to sway even the most wayward of hearts, and after she managed to convince us to turn on our Golden Mother, I am beginning to believe it._

 _Whatever she commands, I take some comfort in the fact that Queen Flamma Scientia's brother remains vehemently against the actions we have taken._

Ignis's fingers stuttered on the page for a moment, the shimmering ink from his pen pooling onto the paper as he took in the words. For all that his mother was constantly insisting that his third name was indicative of royal heritage, he'd never truly believed her, as he'd never come across any evidence to indicate it as such in his studies. He'd given the matter little thought since she'd informed him of his royal title, choosing instead to continue with his commoner name. Relations with the people were delicate enough as it was without him claiming himself ancient royalty.

Seeing the evidence written here clearly, however . . . all those years, he'd lain awake in his little bed wishing with all his will to be something more than he was, aspiring to become something more and earn his place in Lucis. He'd truly believed that entire time that he was nothing more than a servant from a family of lower nobility that had had the good fortune to be granted royal retainership.

The press, not to mention the already fractious people, would go mad at this news. It would be for the best, most certainly, if he kept this information between himself and Laura.

Shifting back to his source materials, he continued translating.

 _ **60220328**_

 _May the gods forgive me for what I am about to do._

 _ **60270616**_

 _The elements of the disease we have decided to call Starscourge are truly simpler than I could have imagined. Many have existed on the planet since the dawn of man; it is only a matter of combining them correctly. The only otherworldly component of this disease comes from the very meteor that Ifrit sent down on our sundial. How coincidental that his demise should be brought from an act of his hubris!_

 _We've termed this dark substance Voidmatter, and it exhibits the ability to infect gods and humans alike with violence and madness, leaving the rational mind unguarded and open to suggestion. It is able to thrive and grow stronger in darkness, a state which it attempts to create by releasing photophilic particles to absorb light. Given the Golden Mother's current location in the dark beneath the sundial, it is the perfect element to add to the others to complete the virus._

 _Tomorrow, I am being reassigned to a new team, as my superiors are moving on to another top-secret project. They assure me that all is well, and yet even their children have packed all their things. I do not know what to think of these developments._

 _ **60321130**_

 _I despise this shack outside that provincial chocobo sty they have the nerve to call a town, and yet this is the safest place to conduct our research without drawing Ifrit's attention._

 _Perhaps it's merely my imagination, but people are disappearing, and only idiots make up those that remain. I was required to travel all the way to the meteor site for additional samples last week, and those left of our once proud civilization are merely farmers and vagrants. Their offspring are barely educated enough to read and write. Not that it matters. Evidence of our civilization has nearly been wiped clean by Ifrit—our vast libraries and stores of knowledge either burned or disappeared along with the best and brightest of our society. Though admittedly, the Zephyrnian, Necronian, and Astronian have not been seen above ground for thousands of years, these country folk are teaching their children of the Six instead of the Nine! Truly, I begin to wonder if our people are worth saving. They don't even consider themselves a part of the kingdom of Solheim._

 _Our primary researcher on the project knows far less of what he is doing than those on my last collaboration. Fortunately, the virus itself is completed. We have only to find a suitable vehicle for delivering it deep below the planet's crust. All attempts thus far have been stymied by the pesky Archaean, even trapped under his meteor as he is. That it has taken the same civilization that created Pitioss this long to come up with a solution speaks to just how far we have fallen. Meanwhile, more good men and women are lost in this war._

 _ **60391130**_

 _Decades has it been since this war began, and yet we no longer look forward for answers as we once did. It was in looking backward that we finally found the solution for creating a vehicle to transmit the Starscourge to Eos—nipmoths. These biting insects are a previously undiscovered natural source for malarial plasmodia, however._

 _Brutus insists that we handle this malaria before infecting the swarm and sending them down the shaft of light to the goddess. I must admit this is not my area of expertise, but I must trust his judgment, as he is the only senior scientist left._

 _ **60400606**_

 _The Queen commanded we release our weapon today. Clearly, the Astrals cannot be trusted._

 _It is done._

 _ **60400817**_

 _Praise be! Four of the Six have joined the fray against Ifrit._

 _ **60440301**_

 _The Goddess sleeps_

 _And her children start a fire,_

 _Which they cannot extinguish,_

 _And she will never be able to awaken._

 _Every tragedy divides,_

 _Before our very eyes,_

 _Those things which ought to be loved._

 _And through this endless night,_

 _In despair,_

 _She can see the dawn,_

 _Which will awake her the next morning._

 _ **60440523**_

 _It is only with the disappearance of the Queen that I can fully feel the horror of what we have done. Under her brother's guidance, I am left to find a cure for that which we have created—an impossible undertaking, even with my previous notes from my first team so many years ago. The supernatural quality of the virus guarantees I will be unable to find one. Reviewing all our documents, I cannot see where we went wrong in its construction. All tests of Voidmatter exhibited no signs of transformative properties, and yet men are becoming monsters before my very eyes._

 _I must seek penance in dedicating the rest of my life to finding the cure, or I, too, will fall prey to my own creation._

 _ **60450115**_

 _The Starscourge has rapidly settled into the natural cycles of the planet's ecosystem. As such, there are now several natural sources for the disease that I can tell:_

 _Nipmoths—found around sources of light in the darkness_

 _Bacterial columns—nests of plasmodium bacteria that release the miasma into the soil and water_

 _Daemons—miasmal particles seeping into the ground upon death_

 _Venturing out at night has become a dangerous endeavor, despite the nearly non-existent population. Still, I must either work to find a cure or be lost among those infected._

 _ **60450523**_

 _I believe I have discovered and outlined all the ways the virus can be transmitted:_

 _Source to Animal: Bacterial columns infects plants, animals, and insects in the area, causing mutations but not active transformation. Consuming tainted products will not cause a human to transform._

 _Animal to Wild Nipmoth: Passed from the animal to the uninfected wild nipmoths through the blood via biting. Starscourge becomes fully active at this point in the life cycle, capable of transforming a human when it is passed on._

 _Nipmoth to Human: The transformative disease is passed to humans via biting._

 _Human to Human: Transformative Starscourge can be passed from human to human via exchange of bodily fluids (e.g., blood, semen, saliva entering the bloodstream)._

 _Daemon to Human: Passed through biting and scourge entering open wounds._

 _Daemon to Source: Non-transformative scourge seeps into the ground upon daemon death._

 _I have my doubts about the Queen's brother, who refuses to rule in the missing Queen's stead. He claims that we have earned our just rewards for defying the gods. He speaks as though he maintains loyalty to Ifrit . . . after all that has happened!_

 _I don't know what to believe anymore._

 _ **60450727**_

 _Imagine my horror upon discovering that every man, woman, and child I have tested thus far houses elements of my disease. All that remains is for the right set of circumstances for them to contract the transformative version to turn them into monsters. Fortunately, not all who have come into contact with the transformative virus have contracted it. Here is what I have learned so far:_

 _Incubation of the virus seems to be between 20 and 50 days, with 30 days being the average. Varying latency periods has made determining transmission and incubation periods difficult to pin down._

 _Some natural immunity has already been observed in the population; however, as proper testing has yet to be conducted, evidence of immunity is purely anecdotal._

 _Symptomatic infection is dependent on viral load received and natural immunity_

 _State of brain chemistry is suspected variable in whether patient succumbs_

 _Young children, infirm, and elderly are more prone to contracting the disease_

 _Those with high levels of asymptomatic scourge are more prone to developing the transformative disease upon exposure to it_

 _Rumors of a man in Caem able to miraculously heal the scourge with nothing but his hands have been brought to my attention, but these superstitious provincials have created a thousand myths already to explain what has happened to them._

 _ **60451016**_

 _Brutus has informed me that for years, our people have been disappearing through secret interdimensional gates opened up in an attempt to escape Ifrit. Should I wish, I am permitted to accompany him the next time it is arranged for these gates to be activated._

 _The danger here on Eos has become too great. I know not of this technology nor where this gate leads, but I must take my chances for the start of a new life._

 _ **?**_

 _I deserved this._

A chill passed over Ignis's skin as he carefully laid the pen down on his desk and sat back in his chair, toying absentmindedly spinning his wedding band around his finger with his thumb. It was impossible to say whether this man had made it through the gate before or after the arrival of Sleipnir and the Zephyrnian, but the results were the same. Whether or not he deserved his punishment . . . well, Ignis would leave that up to fate to decide.

Reaching up under his glasses with his knuckles to rub at his bleary eyes, he instead focused on what could be used in the here and now to save his innocent people. He could institute a few public policies from this that they hadn't been employing already—mainly to protect children and elderly from exposure. Reduction of consumption of meat from mutated animals was already long-placed into practice, as was avoiding daemons and the nidus nests. As far as nipmoths went, he'd only seen a few hovering around lights in caves and tunnels like Keycatrich Mines, so he tended to doubt they were a major contributor to the problem.

Daemon bites, however . . . now there was an issue. He himself had been bitten on many occasions, in addition to everyone in the retinue and many Guardians he knew. Either the researcher was wrong, or there were other factors at play here.

A sudden chime interrupted his concentration, jarring him back into reality and forcing him to reluctantly lower his hands, which had migrated to massage his still-throbbing temples. He glanced over at the clock—seven a.m.—time to meet with his father. Ignis stood from his desk, letting his eyes linger on his wife's statue as he threw his shoulders back and stretched his hands high above his head.

He reached out a careful finger to curl around the curve of her chin—just this once—before deciding he would make himself a fresh cup of coffee in the kitchen before he left. His steps faltered at the bottom of the stairs, however, as her thread brightened ever so slightly in response before growing dull again. It would be a matter of days now before she awoke; he could feel it in his blood. With any luck, he could gather enough work today to take out to Myrl and be with her.

With any luck.

He'd changed his house slippers out for his shoes, poured his freshly-made coffee into a travel mug, and was closing his front door behind him when someone let out a little cough from just around the corner. Ignis froze, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments to enjoy this final second of solitude before the constant barrage began. When he saw who had intruded on these last moments of quiet, however, his mood shifted to surprise.

"Gladio," he greeted with a nod.

"Hey. How's your leg doing?"

The truth was that though he'd been declared medically sound, his left knee still ached whenever he relied on it for running too far or too long. He would certainly need to have Laura at least take a look at it when she herself had recovered, as an injured limb wasn't something he could afford to have as a weakness in battle.

But this was not a confession meant for Gladio. "My leg is recovering well, thank you for asking. I take it this isn't a social call?"

"Kinda hard to get ahold of you these days," he said, frowning a little. "Figured it would waste less of your time than a written report if I just tell you on the way to your office. Got some stuff Sania wanted to pass on, too."

"An interesting relationship you two have developed."

"Hey, she's got a lotta knowledge about a lotta stuff," he said with a grin, but then grew serious. "I know you heard when I got back, but I wanted to tell you the details myself. It's done. Y'jhimei ended up staying behind in Eorzea, even though she's gonna have to relive a year, so I got some help from Sania and Kimya with sealing off Pitioss so he can't get to it again. Sun's gonna get too weak soon for it to open up anyway."

"I'm glad to hear about Y'jhimei. There's no sense in her getting infected with the rest of us. As for Sania—I hope you didn't distract her for too long. She's doing important work collecting soil, water, and animal samples for us. Who did you leave at Myrl?"

"I sent Dustin and Iris out there. They'll take care of . . . things."

Ignis shivered a little in his jacket, grateful he'd thought to put it on, as even the typically sweltering climate and heat from the still-burning meteor crater Lestallum had been built on wasn't enough to keep the city warm with their weakening sun.

"Very good. Now that my studies on Solheim are complete, I can see about investigating the tombs of the Old Kings."

Gladio's voice dropped to a murmur. "Did you manage to get anything outta Solheim?"

"Scant information on the scourge, a passing reference to Ardyn, but nothing on circumventing the prophecy, though that was to be expected. The people come first in this matter, but I've done all I can on that front." Watching Gladio's neutral expression carefully, Ignis added, "Perhaps Iris and Talcott would care to tag along with me to the tombs. They've both proven an adeptness at archaeology and the blade."

"You know how I feel about it. Cor's being unreasonable with Iris. You'll take care of 'em, and they need to learn." He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, which he seemed to be neglecting in cutting short these days.

"I've thought about offering her additional instruction, if she's amenable. If she can manage to keep that rather ferocious temper of hers under control, she's displayed evidence of shrewd negotiating skills and business acumen." When Gladio didn't respond, Ignis looked over at him, noting that his attention seemed to have wandered. "Are you all right?" he asked, his steps slowing a little as he nodded a greeting to a passing Navyth.

The fisherman grunted out a greeting as he struggled under the weight of two heavy buckets, most likely filled with live fish for someone's farm. "Please give my regards to your niece should you see her," Ignis called out.

"Coctura's been busy since EXINERIS opened up Galdin," Navyth replied over his shoulder. "But I'll let her know."

Gladio waited until they'd entered the main square, where Ignis kept to the darker, covered sidewalk that passed by Surgate's so as to reduce the chances of being recognized.

"It's not me; it's Prompto. Aww, shit," he muttered, running a hand through his hair again. "I didn't wanna add any more to your plate."

"We're on borrowed time here. I suggest you speak frankly and quickly." There simply weren't enough hours in the day anymore, or night, it would seem, for him to mince words. Along with Laura's assistance, he'd lost the ability to work while he slept, so sleep had once again taken a lower priority as more and more responsibilities had been heaped on him. Perhaps it was beginning to give him a reputation for being cold as it had back in Insomnia, as Gladio jerked his head in Ignis's direction to narrow his eyes at him.

"Well, he handled the Kenny mission like he said he would. Said Johnny's sold those costumes to a few people, some Glaives, but he didn't know who they were. And I had a thought—you don't think with all his Glaive powers and shit that he could be Ardyn, do you?"

"I don't see why he would be, given that he doesn't need a suit to disguise himself."

"Libertus has a theory. Swears it's Nyx Ulric revived by the gods, but he's too recognizable now to show his face, so he wears the costume."

He stopped speaking for a moment as they quickly crossed the main thoroughfare out of the city, and Ignis ushered Gladio to the far side, closer to the shadow of the buildings as they walked. With any luck, he could make it all the way to the Council headquarters without being recognized this morning.

"If gods were capable of bringing people back to life, then the need to step in and protect humanity during the Astral war would have been null and void. Eccentric Glaives are the least of my concerns at the moment. What of Prompto?"

"I've talked to him about disappearing with that girl too much, but I don't think it's working. He was s'posed to report to Wiz yesterday to start that war-chocobo training program. Never showed. Finally got a hold of him, and he was weird about his whereabouts. Think he's lyin'."

Ignis let out a small groan in the back of his throat. While he knew only too well how easily one could be swept away by a fledgling romance, this was no time to neglect one's duties. "See if you can get him to stop by the office for a chat. Face to face is the best way to get a read on him. But I may be away for a few days after today."

"A mission?"

"The farm."

"Is it time? Sania wanted me to tell you she thinks she's got a complete seed catalog now for her to store when she wakes up, and Aranea's done with her freezing thing with this last trip."

He'd already known of Aranea's final mission out to Niflheim—both to drop off a load of specimens and genetic samples for cryo and to pick up any equipment from Verstael's labs that would be helpful in studying the scourge—but he nodded his thanks regardless. "I do believe it's time, yes, though it will likely be another week or two before she's able to get to work. Still, I intend to bring her back and look after her here."

"Thank fuck. I know you been doin' the best you can, but, you know how I feel about this 'Quarantine' shit."

"It's not as though I was ever thrilled about the solution, but the Council and I do our best to work with what we have." He let his voice grow hard as he warned, "Don't expect her to solve all our problems for us overnight. She may not be human, but she's still a fallible being."

"I know, I know. She's not a god," he sighed. "And what about Aranea? You gonna suck her into all that Council garbage? You know she'd be no good for that. She's better off in the field."

"Personally, I agree, but who would you have me ask? Certainly not Loqi. He's far too immature. But it's best you leave the decision up to her, as it should be. We're having trouble as it is with Accordo. The people here are growing weary of representation by proxy, and the First Secretary has insisted on staying behind to captain her ship."

"Can't fault her for that."

"No, I cannot. I expect ruffled feathers to be somewhat smoothed once Weskham arrives to represent the immigrants on her behalf. He may be unfamiliar with operations here now, but I've no doubt he can be brought into the fold quickly, as he was originally from Keycatrich."

"You!" a woman shouted from across the street.

Gods damn it, and they had made it so far. They had reached the end of the main thoroughfare, just across from the apothecary where there were no shadows to hide in. But of course, a disadvantage to being seen in public with Gladio was that his silhouette had a tendency to draw one's gaze even in the dark.

"What—" Gladio began.

"Whatever happens, just keep walking, and don't say a word. Believe me, nothing good ever comes from allowing an exchange," Ignis replied under his breath, quickly turning the corner out onto the main road that ran between Lestallum proper and the Outlook District. But as much as he wished he could avoid yet another confrontation in the street, the hurried footsteps slapping on the pavement behind him meant that he would have no such luck this morning.

"What right did you have to take him away? What did my father ever do to you?! He was a good man!"

Ignis hurried along the alcoves, picking up the pace as they drew nearer to the far end of the block, where he knew the woman would stop following.

But it appeared she already had as they rushed closer toward the guarded wall and gate that led out of the city. Her voice grew hoarse and further away as the distance between them increased. "But what would you know? You've never loved anyone in your life, have you? Except your precious little prince, and he's gone, isn't he? You didn't even give a shit when your own wife died!"

When it became clear the woman had nothing more to add, Gladio turned his head to look back cautiously, but Ignis kept his eyes locked on the cracked pavement passing underneath his feet. "How can you just . . . shrug that off?"

"What else can I do? I have no right to confront her. Setting the record straight would only endanger Laura's life, and technically, I _am_ responsible for her loss, even if she hasn't yet accepted that she had already lost her father when he fell prey to the disease."

"So," Gladio added casually, "guess you've heard the rumors, then."

"Don't tell me this is the first you're hearing of them."

"Last week, before I came and got you."

"Nothing I haven't heard before," he sighed, continuing past the columned façade of the building and toward the blockade.

"Yeah, I guess . . . me neither. Heard 'Ice Cold Scientia' all the time back home—even the thing with you and Noct once or twice."

Without looking over, Ignis raised an eyebrow, his mouth shrugging into a frown of disapproval. He'd heard the rumors as well—overworked, obsessive, perfectionist Ice Cold Ignis Scientia. He could only be doing what he did for the Prince if he were in love with the boy romantically. Surely, with as many times as Gladio had attempted to set him up with some sort of horrid romantic partner, he'd never believed . . ..

"I never believed that one, ya know," he said as though answering Ignis's unspoken question, "as much as he was always pissing you off. Plus . . . always figured you'd be the type to go for someone more self-sufficient. But I always did wonder why you never wavered in spite of that. Still don't really understand, even after your explanation in Zegnautus."

Was it truly so difficult? Ignis had grown up with no one, save the Prince. His king and greatest hero at the time had asked him personally to care for the boy, so he had cared for him to the very best of his ability, throwing himself into the task with heart, head, and soul as he'd never done with anything or anyone else—despite his ever-increasing frustration at Noct behaving like a finicky, awkward, and recalcitrant child far beyond his teen years. If Ignis had given up, lost faith in the _one_ boy destined to save the world, what would he have had left?

But their relationship was complicated—to the point where he often didn't understand it himself. Ignis loved Noct as his liege, as his child, as his brother; he couldn't even put a name to the type of love he held in his heart for the boy, but though it was different from the love he held for Laura, it was no less deep and complex—albeit perhaps laced with irritation and the slightest stabs of bitterness at Noct's ungratefulness and apathy. Though his estimation of the King, of Lucis, of even Laura had needed to fall to less idealistic levels once he'd left the safety of the Wall and obtained a different outlook of the world, Ignis had _always_ felt he had a realistic, if somewhat consternated, view of who Noct was. Liegehood, parenthood, brotherhood wasn't perfect.

If Gladio couldn't relate to that after all these years, Ignis didn't believe he ever would.

"Any other news?"

Gladio grunted out a single laugh before taking the hint. "Let's see—got restaurant owners sending veggie scraps out to Cauthess, Old Lestallum, Hammerhead, and anyone with a chocobo for feeding. Wiz is eager to start training with Prompto, but he'd prefer 'em all in one place to do that. Thinks the Guardians could use the quieter transpo, especially with the gas shortages."

"I'll see if I can persuade EXINERIS to get started on a route to Caem. It would be the perfect place with the additional protection, but Hunter HQ takes priority, I'm afraid. We need to get a line out to Myrl."

"He wanted to keep 'em in Aracheole or Tollhends, but I told him all the bases were either picked apart or packed with livestock."

"I do hope you told him not to share that information with anyone."

"Yeah. I mean, it's not like some people haven't figured it out yet, but the fewer people that know . . .."

"The better," Ignis agreed.

When they reached the end of the block, he craned his neck in an attempt to catch sight of the Saturn Pride sign displayed proudly on top of the building across from the Council headquarters and Guardian training building. It seemed that no matter how many times they used to pass it, Rose would grin up at him and make some sort of joke about being back on Earth. He couldn't see it today, however, hugging the wall behind Gladio as he was, but that didn't prevent the image of her bright smile from flashing through his mind.

"You meetin' with your dad today?" Gladio asked as they approached Council headquarters.

"Now, as a matter of fact."

"All right. I gotta go do some work for Holly, but say 'hi' to him for me, will ya? Awesome new 'do, by the way, Your Majesty," he chuckled, throwing a hand over his shoulder as he turned back toward the main street.

"I've asked you repeatedly to stop calling me that," Ignis called back, but Gladio either hadn't heard him or hadn't cared, as he continued to stroll up the main road. Ignis rolled his eyes and turned to unlock the right of the two front doors.

The stars seemed to have aligned when it came to choosing a building that would essentially house the world's government. The former Cotton Alley packaging facility had been closed for some time and was ideally suited for adapting for residential purposes. However, located as it was on the far corner of the town and accessible only from a side street off the main road, the two-story building attached to the long, low warehouse felt vulnerable to the populace somehow. Ignis and the other delegates had never felt particularly unsafe in their offices, not only because Ignis was far more than capable of defending himself, but the warehouse, which had been converted into two sparring rooms and a bunk room for visiting Guardians, was nearly always playing host to capable warriors.

Ignis eyed the stairs that led up to his office longingly, wishing he could have a few more quiet moments alone as he preferred most mornings. He'd certainly had enough coffee to be conscious—for which he should be grateful, as coffee was one of the few luxuries not typically afforded the general populace—but he hadn't yet had quite enough of his second helping to be handling his father's particular brand of 'meeting.'

Ignis made his way to the back of the administrative portion of the building and opened the door to the Guardian training facility.

His father was already in the first room, of course, a pearl-handled rapier in hand. Ignis shut the door quietly behind him and leaned against the far wall to watch him work in the wide-open space. He appeared thoroughly professional in black wool trousers and a white button-down, but he moved freely as he lunged forward, testing the weight of the blade in his hand as he let it fall a little before bringing it level.

As many times as they'd endured this together, Ignis had never thought to ask. "Surely you don't intend to use that rapier in the field should you be attacked? I don't recommend it for the sort of world we live in today," he remarked from the wall, and Venetus dropped the sword to his side, straightening as he turned to face Ignis. "A sturdier, more versatile blade will serve you better against the many armored daemons one can encounter. You're more likely to draw first blood with a rapier, but the chances of incapacitating your enemy with such a blade is greatly reduced."

"Hmm," Venetus said, frowning down at the sword in his hand. "This is all I have, all I know. It is our heritage."

"I'm disappointed they've allowed you to train with one for this long. I'll speak to Gladio about his officers later. In the meantime, I'll see about procuring you a more suitable weapon—perhaps a saber similar to Lord Ravus's. Or if you've grown used to stabbing, perhaps a polearm."

"If my chances are as bleak as you claim, then what choice do I have?" he asked, strolling to the shelf where the rubber safety tips were kept. He casually applied one to the tip of his sword before remarking, "Though . . . it has been quite some time since you've proven yourself among the ranks, from what I hear."

"I have nothing I need prove to anyone," Ignis replied coolly. Though perhaps somewhat contrary to his words, he summoned a genji blade—quite similar to that which Gilgamesh had gifted to Gladio—with a flick of his wrist. He would always prefer his lance and daggers for speed on the field, but he also found he rather enjoyed the hefty weight and power behind the katana. The fact that it would set a perfect example to prove his point to his father certainly had nothing to do with his choice this morning.

"We need to take action against the increasing segregation issue in Lestallum," his father said. "Reports coming in from the subcouncils in the outposts are reporting similar problems. I've put it on the docket this afternoon, after we've voted."

Venetus came to stand in the middle of the floor in front of him, holding his rapier out at the ready, and Ignis brought his own blade up to brush steel against steel.

"I've already mentioned to the First Secretary that desegregating recreational activities would go a long way in establishing cross-national relations. Let us begin with your forms."

"I know those already. Must we start with them every time we do this?"

"It's best to begin any spar with a brief warmup. To which vote are you referring?"

He regretted the words as soon as they had left his lips; clearly he'd forgotten to whom he was speaking. Though his father's judgment wasn't malevolent, the victory followed by disappointment that flashed across his features sent an all-too-familiar stab of self-loathing through Ignis that reminded him far too much of his youth as he was judged to be found wanting.

First blood drawn, indeed.

"Perhaps if you spent a little more time performing your _assigned_ duties rather than running off to play adventurer, you wouldn't miss these discussions," Venetus remarked as he brought his blade into Leaf on the Breeze position, his posture wide, but not quite wide enough.

Ignis nodded at his father's feet, calling attention to the direction his toes were pointing, before fluidly mirroring his position and biting back, "My duties encompass far more than you realize. What vote?"

Venetus slashed his blade across his body in River of Light, and Ignis quickly countered with Rain in High Wind to parry the blow that the rapier wasn't meant to deliver. "Whether or not the Council should enforce the death penalty for those failing to submit a known infected person to Quarantine."

"Are you mad?!" Ignis demanded, meeting the rapier perhaps somewhat too forcefully as he flicked it away. "We barely have the support of the people as it is, and need I remind you that there's an apocalypse on? We can hardly afford to be losing more of the dwindling population."

"For the record, I'm against it, but many members of the subcouncils are calling for a vote," he said, attempting to bat the heavier sword aside unsuccessfully. His movements picked up speed as he fell from Arc of the Moon to Tower of Morning and continued. "You can also expect to discuss birth control today. The people are beginning to grow concerned that it's getting more difficult to obtain."

Ignis met his father's grey-blue eyes warily as he parried an advance before twisting away. They didn't seem to be practicing forms anymore as they seamlessly transitioned into a somewhat heated duel, and he knew the topic his father really wished to discuss was near at hand. It would only be a matter of minutes before he circled around to it.

"Niflians and Accordions tend to grow concerned at any sort of news, as they're accustomed to propaganda telling them everything is all right," he said lightly, spinning to the side and ducking a thrust to the shoulder. "But it's to be expected that any sort of manufacturing will all but cease, and all consumable goods beyond food will become rare commodities."

"Let me remind you that Lucis was not without its own propaganda. And let us be honest: the loss of birth control will encourage some population growth to recoup our losses."

"Not to mention encourage sexually transmitted diseases," Ignis muttered under his breath, lunging for his father's left side to indicate an opening, but he didn't attempt to score a point just yet.

Venetus advanced, aiming for Ignis's chest, but Ignis easily evaded the blade by leaping lightly to the side, carefully reaching out to touch the tip of his katana to his father's ribs—first point.

"Perhaps that cold marriage bed of yours is useful for something after all," Venetus remarked, taking several steps back to inspect his shirt for a tear, which, of course, there was none. "Honestly, sitting between two thrones as you are, when will you do your duty? You are of royal blood, my son; House Étoile and House Scientia are too prestigious to end with you."

And there it was. The only unpredicted aspect of this conversation was that his father had included the salacious rumors surrounding his wife's disappearance this time, but the topic of children seemed to come up nearly every time he and his parents were alone together. He'd thought that every aspect of his life had been dictated by his duties to the Crown while growing up in the Citadel, but this gnawing irritation that stirred in his belly every time this subject came up proved that he'd been wrong. He wasn't accustomed to what little private life he had being open for discussion and judgment, and while Noct had technically had the right, he'd never expressed any interest in doing so, thank heavens.

This aggravation wasn't the picture he'd carried in his mind all these years of familial bonding.

"My marriage bed is none of your concern," he growled, assuming his ready stance once more, but his father didn't attack, choosing instead to stand back and analyze.

Ignis recognized the tactic well and wondered just how much of an opponent's fighting style was genetic. But extensive training to undo his natural inclinations as well as a thorough understanding of the weaknesses of his old habits meant that he knew exactly what to do to throw his father off balance. Ignis advanced swiftly, bringing the long blade in far closer than it was meant to be used to defend Venetus's attempts at stabbing him into submission.

His father's eyes widened as his every attack was either met with a graceful dodge or an immediate counterattack, retreating with every maneuver, and when Ignis finally had him backed against the painted white brick, he used his free hand to pin his father's sword hand against the wall and brought his other forearm up to press threateningly across his throat.

"As I stated before," he hissed coldly. "I have nothing to prove."

Venetus glared back, a lock of slicked-back grey-blonde hair falling into his right eye as he breathed against Ignis's hold on him. "If you refuse to continue the line, then it falls to me to compensate. Would you truly ask that of me?"

"I beg your pardon?" he asked in surprise, not completely certain what his father was suggesting.

"To ask your mother to endure such a trial as childbirth at her age would be cruel. I almost lost her the first time. Laura is still young. It would be far easier on the two of you."

Ignis flexed subtly against his father's throat. "I won't dictate your procreation habits so long as you stay out of mine."

"Stubborn and unwilling to see reason, I see, just like your mother," he sighed, shaking his head the best he could against his son's arm.

The creak of the door opening behind them forced Ignis take a sudden step back, dismissing his katana and whirling to identify who had caught them in this potentially compromising position. Given the specifics of this situation, however, he supposed it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that the King of Tenebrae and the Lord Protector of Lucis could become too engrossed in a sparring match.

Fortunately, the intruder was only Libertus.

"Uhhh, sorry, am I interrupting something?" Libertus asked, his eyes darting between the two of them as he tugged nervously at his Kingsglaive coat sleeve.

"Not at all. We were just finishing," Ignis answered smoothly. "Your timing is quite fortunate, in fact, as I wished to discuss with you the possibility of receiving some training on Glaive magic."

"Oh, didn't know any of you Crownsguard besides Cor could . . . I mean, sure, Your Grace. Any particular branch?"

"All of it, if you wouldn't mind: warping, hardcasting, shielding. I do have some experience hardcasting, though not with the potency of you Glaives."

"Yeah. Tell you what—Luke's in charge of your calendar, right? I'll get with Delilah, Luca, even Gutsco can teach you a thing or two, and schedule you . . . say, three sessions a week?"

"It would be best not to schedule them too regularly or far out," Ignis said, nodding to Libertus as he headed for the door. "But please inform Luke to fill the first two slots I have available for you, thank you."

"Just a moment, Duke," his father called after him, his stride lengthening to meet him at the door. "I request one more moment of your time."

"Very well," Ignis sighed before turning to Libertus. "Thank you for your time."

"Yeah, sure thing, Your Grace."

As they made their way to the front of the administrative building, Venetus pulled on his jacket and reached into his pocket, drawing out an envelope. "Her Majesty has completed the review of the documents taken from Besithia's lab during Mr. Argentum's visit," he began, passing the envelope over. "Another reason to preserve your family name: long has it been held a family secret that the first Ignis Scientia was blessed by Ifrit himself with that name. Though we have no proof, we suspect that this report refers to him as—"

"The first King of Solheim, I know," Ignis interrupted as his eyes seemed to zero in on the relevant section immediately.

 _According to legend, the fire god Ifrit first bestowed his 'burning wisdom' upon a man who later sat the throne of Solheim._

But of course, Verstael Besithia would not have known to translate circular Solheimian into Latin, which didn't truly exist on this world. And of course, his mother would not have realized that she, and likely every other firstborn of their family, possessed a name that meant 'fire knowledge,' quite similar to 'burning wisdom.' This was more proof of their royal bloodline than she could realize.

"I would prefer this kept quiet."

They stopped at the base of the carpeted wooden staircase just next to the front door, and Venetus pursed his lips in disapproval. "You keep far too much of yourself quiet, I fear. Proving your pedigree would go a long way to establishing authority over a reluctant people."

"I have more than enough experience dealing with the vicious whims of a doubtful populace, Your Majesty, far more than those who have remained hidden in the shadows, in fact," he added, and though it was disgraceful of him, he couldn't help but smirk in victory at the color that rose in his father's pale cheeks. "I have work to do. I'll see you at the Council meeting?"

Venetus turned toward the door and let his hand linger on the handle, not looking back to meet his son's eyes. "That is, if you haven't run off, certainly," he said in a clipped tone before pulling the door open. "And you should make arrangements to visit Her Majesty. One of the Glaives informed her that she possesses an aptitude for spiritual magic, and you are uniquely-versed in the art."

"I'll set aside some time."

"See that you do," he said shortly, just as the door swung closed behind him.

Alone in the foyer, Ignis took a brief moment to collect himself—leaning his head back against the wall, closing his eyes, and letting out a long breath. Honestly, he shouldn't have allowed his temper to get the better of him. He ran his thumb and forefinger up the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up and pressing against his throbbing headache. He'd be needing another cup of coffee if he was to make it to this meeting in four hours, and if he wasn't in his office within the next five minutes, everyone would begin arriving and harassing him for some errand or another before he even had a chance to settle in and read the reports from the outposts.

It was clear that the few seconds' leisure he'd carved out for himself would need to be put on hold the moment he opened his door, took a single muffled step onto the rug Laura had given him, and spotted what, or who, rather, was draped across his desk like a pinup girl in one of Gladio's swimsuit magazines.

"Hello there!" Ardyn greeted jovially, flipping casually through one of the non-sensitive reports Ignis had left on his desk the previous evening. "See anything you like?"

Ignis hurriedly shut the door behind him and summoned a Therinal dagger to his hand—just in case. "What do you want?"

He propped his chin up on his hand. "Why, I've come to pay you a visit, of course! With your wife having been away for _so_ long, I thought you could use the company."

"Spare me your lewd sense of humor. I _was_ hoping for a battle of wits, at the very least, but it would hardly be good form of me to attack a man so utterly unarmed."

"I wasn't hoping for a battle at all, in fact," he drawled lazily. Pausing suddenly, he whipped his legs around to come to a sitting position in the middle of Ignis's desk. "I've already had a gun pointed to my head once in the last day."

"Such a pity they didn't pull the trigger," he retorted, but a frisson of concern for Prompto shot through him at Ardyn's seemingly casual mention of a gun.

"Ahh, but you'd never harm a man saved by your dearest love, would you?" he simpered, pulling his lower lip down into a false pout. "Is that why she's no longer here? Did you have a spat over little old me?" He placed his hands on the desktop and jerked forward, inhaling a short sharp breath. "Where is she?"

Ignis studied his softened expression intently, searching for some clue to his intentions beyond gathering intelligence. "That's none of your concern."

"Oh, but she's _left_ you!" he cackled with glee, leaping off the desk and strolling with a slow, rolling gait to the window. He pulled back the gauzy white curtain and gazed down at the empty street below as he said, "She's been following me, you know. Perhaps our dalliance in Altissia laid more of a dark streak in her than I'd realized for her to be so interested."

Ignis was no fool. Ardyn was attempting to glean information as well as activate a vein of jealousy he had no idea couldn't be stirred. For as much as his competitive side wished to claim that it had been him following Ardyn around the Solheim ruins, it was far safer to allow him to believe it had been Laura, so he chose to remain silent.

"So. Euthanasia, eh?" he abruptly changed subjects, adopting an airy tone that belied the gravity of the topic. "An interesting middle ground. My dear brother burned them alive, you know."

"What would you have me do? You slaughtered the one woman in the world that could hold it at bay."

"I know," he sighed. Turning back to the window, he said in a small, faraway voice, "There was something about her appearance that simply didn't sit well with me."

"If you aren't willing to help, then I also request to be spared your flippancy. Laura may have saved you from a painful reset, but don't think for a moment that the act makes us allies. Nothing would bring me greater joy in this world than to see you leave it for good."

"I'm curious." He snapped his head to stare intensely at Ignis, tilting his head and taking a slight step forward. He paused when his eyes fell to the dagger held in Ignis's flexing fingers and met his glare with a feral smile. "As a healer yourself, what would you have done in my stead—bereft and betrayed, with no one to turn to? Not even the people you healed willing to grant you succor?"

Ignis hesitated, determined to give the weighty question serious thought before delivering an honest answer. After several moments, he said, "It's difficult to say, given that we still don't know the details of your descent. Though if we're correct, I would have healed them all and died as was asked of me."

"You must be joking."

"For the greater good? Without hesitation."

"Oh," he scoffed, his lip curling in disgust. "You're so . . . _boring_."

"Well then, would you care—" Ignis began, but a knock on the door at his back made him flinch and jerk away from the vibrating wood. His attention instantly darted back to where Ardyn had been leaning against the corner of his desk, only to find wispy curls of purple miasma melting into the carpet and seeping through the cracks out the window.

He closed his eyes briefly, dismissing his dagger and wishing he could simply have a _moment_ to himself, before turning to jerk the door open.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked, perhaps a touch too sharply.

Luke presented the top of his sandy-colored head as he crossed his arm over his chest and bowed low. "D-do forgive the intrusion this early, Y-Your Grace. Guardians have apprehended someone attempting to hide a patient from Quarantine. They've submitted the patient, but they'd like to know what to do with the man who'd been hiding her. The squad leader said they have him just outside."

Ignis turned to his desk, spinning his burgundy executive chair to face him before he sat with a long sigh. It appeared coffee would have to wait. "Tell them to bring him inside and escort him up here. And . . . thank you, Luke," he added more gently.

He'd had just enough time to pull out his mobile to text Prompto, asking for his whereabouts, and Gladio, alerting him to the situation, when the door opened again to reveal the very man he'd been searching for. The two Guardians deposited Prompto in the chair across from Ignis's desk and bowed. At his dismissal, they turned to stride out without another word.

Ignis remained still, watching Prompto carefully as he stared at his boots and rubbed uncomfortably at the long purple sleeves of his t-shirt. After nearly a minute of tense silence, he said quietly, "I assume this has to do with Miss Penelope."

Prompto winced as though he'd been slapped, but though something seemed to flutter in Ignis's chest at the sight, he continued with his lecture—as was his duty.

"Do you realize that this very day, the Council is voting whether to institute the death penalty for what you've done? Though I doubt the motion will carry through, there would have been nothing I could have done for you had it been approved already."

Silent tears streaked down Prompto's cheeks, dripping into his lap as he refused to meet Ignis's eyes. In a voice that was almost a whisper, he said, "I took her away from people. I made her safe."

"You can't know that. What were you going to do when she transformed? Set her free? How many lives would have been on your conscience for such a reckless decision?"

Prompto's eyes shot to his then, full of fire as he balled his hands into fists and hit the chair arms. "She LOVED me. She loved ME. Can you blame me for wanting to keep that?" He slumped in his chair, dropping his head in his hands and dropping his voice to a murmur. "Just . . . for _once_ , someone loved me for who I was. Wanted me. I never had to worry about her looking at you or Gladio or Noct because it was just me she was looking at." He broke on the final word, managing to choke it out before he looked down at his jeans and took in a shuddering breath of air.

Ignis remained silent as Prompto wept openly in his seat, but he leaned forward and nudged the box of tissues he kept on the corner of his desk closer to the young gunman. The rational side of his mind wanted to argue back that he'd only known the girl mere weeks, but his heart reminded him that it had taken him only two months to marry Laura.

He understood—truly, he empathized all too well with the notion of being unloved, with the freedom and confidence that came with being adored. But with the exception of events of Altissia, not once had Ignis placed his needs above the safety of the people—and the decision not to execute Laura hadn't exactly been his at the time.

"You don't understand," Prompto continued after a minute of sniffling. "It's never just me. Maybe it wasn't gonna be some epic love story, all powerful and immortal and stuff like you and Laura, but it was mine and no one else's."

Ignis allowed Prompto some time to collect himself before he said gently, "Just because love is between two humans doesn't mean that it's any less epic or important, but I cannot stress how vital it is to keep our higher calling in mind in these desperate times, and to not lose sight of that."

"Easy for you to say," he chuckled bitterly. "You're married to like, this indestructible super goddess." He seemed to realize how insensitive his words were as he grimaced. "Sorry. Is she coming back soon?"

Reaching out in his mind, Ignis stroked the thread that was his sleeping wife, feeling it shift a little at his touch. "Very soon. But Prompto?"

Watery cerulean shot up to meet his gaze, and Ignis inclined his head. "For what it's worth, I _am_ very sorry for your loss. If there's anything at all I can do . . .."

"Nah, forget it," he chuckled—a hollow sound to hear coming from his throat. "Just gotta keep on keepin' on, only way I know how."

Ignis glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, noting that if he did this, he would need to take some of his work home to complete this evening. But nothing was more important in times like these than making time for family, just as Prompto had often made time for him these past two years. He stood and headed to the corner of the room where he kept his coffee maker. Prompto sat still, waiting in apprehensive silence as Ignis summoned his favorite beans, pride of the planet Melissa Majoria. That intoxicating aroma permeated the air as he ran them through the grinder, and he closed his eyes and breathed in, allowing that comforting scent to soothe his frazzled nerves. When the gentle roar of the electric kettle had receded, Ignis lifted it off its base and poured it over the grounds, allowing it to drip into the carafe below as he continued to take long, slow breaths of coffee-flavored steam.

"Has Ardyn visited you recently?" he asked, bending to retrieve two mugs from the lower shelf.

"Uh . . . yeah. How'd you know?"

"He's been making the rounds, it would seem, and obliquely alluded that he'd spoken to you. What did he say?"

"Oh . . . yah know," he said casually, chuckling. "The usual stuff." His voice took on a bitter, mocking intonation as he continued, "'Join me. I can save her.' Typical bad guy stuff—like I've never read Flan Man. Musta passed some kinda test, cause the Rogue Queen visited me. Said I thought for myself and went rogue against my heritage. Gave me a sigil!"

It wasn't until Ignis had placed a cup in front of Prompto—three sugars and two creams, just as he preferred—and sat down that he calmly met Prompto's eyes, cupped the warm mug between both his hands, and leaned forward.

"Please . . . tell me about her."

* * *

Though his eyes were drooping and his limbs had long ago grown clumsy, Ignis resisted the urge to allow his body to stagger its way through the dark streets to Big North. The last thing he needed was to develop the reputation of a drunkard on top of everything else. But his exhaustion also kept him from taking the long way home to meander through the Partellum Market, more of a trading post these days, and wandering up the back alley behind the power plant to lose himself in the memories of his first dance and first kiss.

Shaking his head clear of his weariness, he reached their home and reluctantly climbed the ladder up to his roof to choose a fish for his evening meal, feed the rest, and check the crops to see if anything was ready to harvest.

It appeared it would be a few more days before more of their tomatoes turned red, so he headed to the gutting station in the corner to filet his fish before bringing it in the house. Placing the guts and scales in the compost bin, he took one last look around the cozy, warm courtyard Laura had designed for them before climbing back down, unlocking the front door, and making his way to the bright and cheery kitchen.

Smiling to himself at the Terran rooster painting hanging on the wall, he preheated the oven, opened the copper-colored fridge, and reached into the crisper for the chard. Their kitchen was small—nearly as tiny as their kitchenette in the nearby Leville, but there was something about the aesthetics of the room that always lifted his spirits, particularly in those first few months when Rose would sit at the barstool, her legs swinging back and forth as she flirted with him over the counter.

It was the same barstool he sat at a half an hour later, listening to the clock chime ten o'clock as the burn of his stomach bubbled angrily at the aroma of fish and buttery garlic rising to greet his nose, and it was only then that he'd realized he'd forgotten to eat today—again. But skipping lunch to prepare his arguments for the Council meeting had paid off, as madness had been averted and there would be no death penalty instituted for Quarantine dodgers.

As he continued to pick at his meal, he began poring through reports on the areas surrounding the tombs of the Old Kings. Now that he'd gathered all the intelligence he could from ancient Solheim before the ruins shut down for good, he could truly concentrate on Ardyn, the prophecy, and saving Noct. Seeing that the danger surrounding the tombs seemed to vary greatly, he thought they might be a suitable place for breaking in Iris and Talcott, perhaps even his mother, should she choose to continue her career as a researcher when she wasn't teaching. After all, she had dedicated a good portion of her life to learning more about the mysterious man who had attacked King Regis with a Royal Armiger in 734.

It came as no surprise to Ignis that she'd only been able to identify a formerly exemplary border patrolman by the name of Mars Sapientia—given what they knew now about Ardyn's ability to mimic anyone's appearance. She had gathered reports and interviews from everyone who'd sighted the missing man that day, tracking his whereabouts as he moved quietly toward the Citadel. When the trail ended with his defeat at the hands of King Regis, his mother had somehow managed to pin him at the Rock of Ravatogh with a squad of Niflian forces on some mysterious errand—which Ignis surmised was likely an attempt to track down Ifrit's Messenger body.

Why had this assassination attempt been kept so quiet? Surely, His Majesty must have suspected something out of the ordinary when the assassin called forth the Royal Arms? Even if Ardyn had remained disguised, King Regis should have known something was amiss. Why hadn't he warned Noct of the potential foe when they'd left Insomnia?

It hardly mattered anymore, as clinging to anger at the dead was a fruitless endeavor, but he was growing ever more suspicious the more he learned of the man he'd once considered as infallible as the gods, the man he'd once considered his father.

Once he'd finished with his meal, he did the dishes and wiped down all the kitchen surfaces before gathering his reports and taking them to his desk upstairs. He pulled the chain to turn on the stained-glass lamp on his desk, casting the bedroom in a warm, comfortable glow as he settled into his chair and began reading once again.

* * *

 _Wake up,_ _Ithīr._

The absence of throbbing behind his temples was the first sensation Ignis noticed as he jerked awake, raising his heavy head from his arms folded on his desk, followed by soft, familiar lips across his cheek and warm breath spreading over his skin. He looked up to find Laura there, smiling sweetly down at him, but the moment their eyes met, she took several steps back, beckoning him to follow. It was then that he noticed her surroundings.

Obviously, he was dreaming.

Buttery yellow summer light bounced off leafy green trees outside, streaming through the high, arched windows and illuminating the lofty boarded ceiling and multicolored brick. The striated wooden floor had been worn so completely smooth by years of use that it was nearly impossible to tell where one board ended and another began, and the rich glow of it seemed to warm the very air in the otherwise empty but brightly-lit room.

But what captured and held his eyes was the sight of Laura in front of the closest window, her reflection in the mirror at the other end of the room doubling her graceful movements as she rose en pointe and turned slowly, like a figurine in a music box. Decadent layers of gold and blush tulle, silk, and lace fell just below her knees in a sparkling cascade—the jagged, gold-lined edges reminding him of an inverted kithairon blossom as it draped against her long, elegantly pointed legs. As she raised her foot high above her head, preparing to leap forward, his eyes dragged up the smooth line of her bare leg to the ribbons wrapped and tied around her ankle—the perfect kiss of blushing pink ending in a matching satin slipper.

A thousand times, he'd dreamed of this place, where they used to meet for ballet combat training and the occasional round of dancing for the pure pleasure of spending time with one another, so he pretended it was merely routine and stepped forward when the simple yet wistful baseline of one of the songs they would sometimes dance to began to play.

" _Ithīr," she murmured on a sigh. She spread her arms out to either side with a flourish as he wrapped one hand around her ankle and another around her waist, letting her pointed toes skim across the wood as he drew her to the middle of the floor._

"Laurelín," he crooned into her ear, skimming his lips across the curve of her neck. "My beloved kithairon—tye nénya, ílë."

"Melethronya, inye tye nénya." She gasped as he feathered his fingertips from the criss-crossed ribbons around her ankle, down her creamy soft calf, to the warmth of the underside of her thigh.

He placed a kiss to her hair, just to the left of her tight chignon. "It's been a long day. Dance with me, love, please."

Two years without it, and he must have forgotten the nuances of the smile that would cross her face when she looked up at him—the way her eyes grew wider and lightened a shade, the spread of those soft pink lips he could never grow tired of caressing with his own, the blush that would blossom up her cheekbones and into her hair. He hadn't felt that answering glow in his chest in so very long that he couldn't help but lean forward and capture her mouth, tasting her languidly.

If providence was going to offer him the gift of this fantasy, he was damn-well going to take advantage of it.

"You don't even have to ask," she said when she'd pulled away just far enough to speak against his lips.

The exhaustion, the constant weight of deaths on his conscience, melted away as she twirled from his hold in a wave of shimmering ruffles. Though he'd always enjoyed watching the ballet, he hadn't truly believed he would enjoy it for anything more than combat purposes until she'd begun training him after Altissia. Ballet required immense strength, endurance, control, and timing—particularly en pointe. There was something mathematical about the art that he appreciated—the way his hand would have to be in a precise location on a three-dimensional plane at a precise point in the music to take hers—the physical act measured out by auditory input in time.

Yet there was passion and emotion laced in their every move together as he shut down the analytical part of his mind to synchronize with her—the art of the flourish, his desire and appreciation for the aesthetics of her body, expressing his emotions through movement in tandem with her interpretation of her feelings.

Fouetté. Extend. Fouetté. Extend. Their private studio would transform to whorls of red and brown, of brick and wood, as his satin slippers would drill and skim and slide across the floor until his hips burned from holding up his weight. The pointework itself may have been useless on the field, but the muscle development made moving in battle near effortless and the vertigo from spinning all but disappear. But whirling until he nearly grew dizzy reminded him of their field just beyond Wiz's Chocobo Post—flooded with sunlight, bright green grass, and the scent of trees on the fresh air as they spun together at a thousand miles an hour and fell in love.

Moments like these—he felt truly at peace with himself, perfectly balanced between head and heart.

"You've been practicing," she said warmly, reaching behind her to scrape her long nails over his grey tights. "Your thighs are enormous."

He smirked a little to himself, as he certainly had been practicing in their basement . . . when he could spare the time. "I'm glad you're appreciating them."

She caught his eyes as she spun to face him. "The appreciating has only just begun." Grazing her fingers against his hips and reaching around behind him, she said with a flirtatious smile, "I don't care what anyone says about your arse, I think it's perfect."

"And just how many people are discussing this, I ask you?"

Her lips quirked further as her eyes sparkled with mirth. "You might be surprised."

He chuckled warmly, but as he bent to lift her high above his head, something about the authenticity of her cheekiness struck a chord with him, and he wondered. But he refused to ask, loath to break the spell and dump him back into his lonely reality once more.

He dipped her a little in warning before dropping her, allowing her body to freefall towards the floor in a whispering rush of tulle before catching her lightly by the ribs and thigh so she could brush the floor with a spread of elegant fingertips. There was something about the sensuality of these moments that allowed him to drown in the onslaught of his keen senses—the way the piano would weave with the mournful lament of the violin and echo off the bricks into his head with a fragile sense of nostalgia, the beauty of her graceful limbs brushing against his own as they created something together, their scents and the soft sounds of their skin combining with the rich colors of the room, the way his heart would leap right along with their feet every time their toes left the floor, the taste of her as he brought the back of her hand to his lips.

Catching sight of them in the mirror hung on the far wall—by the light of all the stars, they were poetry in motion together. The sight pleased him. When they'd first begun these lessons, he'd been able to keep a tight rein on his lust, but his senses were overwhelmed in this exquisite fantasy after so long without her. He let his palm drag down the length of her arm to interlace their fingers, his other hand spread wide around her hip as she leaned away from him and brought her foot up behind his head in an attitude croisé derrière. He couldn't help but flex his hips against her as she let go of his hand and bent to brush her toes, his tights stretching as he grew heavy against the fabric.

"Oh," she breathed, pulling herself straight abruptly and turning to face him. She spread her fingers along both sides of his jaw and pulled him down to her mouth. A surge of heat flooded his senses as her lips slid over his, and he clung to her solid, lithe body, his nerves trembling in anticipation. When she pulled him closer, every inch of his body fitting to hers like the interlocking pieces of a puzzle, he groaned, soft and low in the back of his throat.

He didn't say a word as he ripped his mouth from her, merely grasped her hips with his shaking hands and spun her so her back was pressed against his chest. But words didn't need to be exchanged as he lifted her by the hip and thigh and rushed her to the mirror.

Setting her down carefully on one pointed foot and letting the other lay extended along the long, wooden barre, he whispered huskily, "How long can you stay en pointe for me, darling?"

He didn't wait for her answer to run his hands up her velvety bare legs and underneath the sumptuous layers of her tutu, massaging her taught, muscular flesh as she quivered from the effort of holding her position.

"Oialë," she let out on an exhale.

"Good," he said in a gravelly voice against her shoulder before dipping beneath her skirt, pushing aside the strip of fabric between her legs, and _stars_ , after such a very long time, burying his mouth in her sex—as best he could in this position.

It was coming home—drenched in her scent, immersed in her sweetness, and delighted by the music of her sweet moans, muffled by her thighs and skirt between them. He whimpered into her flesh, steadying himself with one hand against her leg and reaching down with the other to stroke his own rigid length roughly.

He worked diligently—breathing her in, licking her, burning for her, wanting her—until she bestowed him with the gift of a soft cry of his name as she contracted around his fingers.

Somehow, she'd managed to stay en pointe thus far, and she held that position against the barre as he pulled back and yanked the band of his tights down. The satisfying susurration of tulle and silk tickled at his ears as he ruched the light layers of pink and gold up around her hips and eased himself carefully into her delicious wet heat.

"Rose," he groaned, catching her reflection in the mirror in time to see her sapphire eyes rolling up into her head and her mouth falling open. "Melethrilnya."

"Yes, Ignis," she cried out, flexing her foot so that she rose and fell a little on his length, wordlessly encouraging him to push deeper in. He complied, melting into her body and along her back.

Being one with her like this, breathing together, watching muscle and bone shift beneath her skin as she moved in tandem with him would always be one of the best parts of using his body to love her. That instinctual rush to drive the both of them to their conclusion while his senses drowned in every twitch of her body, every rush of pleasure in her mind, would never cease to set his heart pounding in his ears as his body clenched in anticipation.

But something was missing. He didn't have to speak the thought aloud before she was lifting her leg off the barre and up over his head. They separated completely when she leapt up and he caught her around the backs of her thighs to rest her against the barre, but it was only too easy to push back into her and resume their tightly controlled dance—this time with her face mere inches from him. His arms encircled her to gather her closer, and she wrapped hers around him in return, kneading insistently at the back of his neck and gripping his hair as he thrust against the weight of her on his length.

It wasn't enough. He wanted more— _needed_ more. He wanted to inhale her sweet scent until his lungs were saturated with her. He wanted to drink her in until his thirst was sated.

"I know," she panted open-mouthed against his lips, against his wordless plea. "I feel it, too." And then she leaned down to take his demanding mouth with hers, pulling him even closer as their tongues danced together.

This . . . this was what he needed—desperate roaming mouths, his arms and knees growing weak as she clung to him, her fingertips digging into his shoulders as she gasped his name into his devolving thoughts. The tingling pleasure and increasing pressure demanded at the base of his brain that he press her more firmly against the mirror, thrust into her with every ounce of strength he could muster.

It didn't matter for a second whether or not this was real—he was going to hold out until she quivered around him again.

"Please, Rose," he pleaded when his concentration on his telepathic ministrations began to falter, "come with me."

"I'm . . . almost . . .," she pushed through heavy, humid breaths against his shoulder.

But it was another minute before she exhaled sharply against his jaw and dropped her head to his collarbone, crying out, her sex pulsing along his rigid length. He felt as though his body were about to dissolve between the burn in his arms, the trembling in his knees, and the pleasure running from his balls to his brain, but he jerked one final thrust, her name falling from his lips before he, too, was shuddering his wet release into her. The wave of bliss that washed over him forced him to press her tighter against the glass to keep his legs from collapsing beneath him as he continued to fill her.

The last drops of his release were still being pulled from him when she pressed her cheek to his chest and let out a long, slow breath. "Go ahead and fall," she said softly, and he obeyed without question.

They fell backward together, but a downy soft featherbed was there waiting for them, cushioning their landing, and he was finally able to release his tight grip and allow the blood to return to his aching hands as he ran them soothingly up and down Laura's back.

"I have to say," she sighed, grazing her nails over his ribs and sending shivering chills down his back, "I wasn't expecting _that_ when I woke up, but I'm glad you didn't try to do something silly, like take it easy on me."

He caught her right hand on its next circuit up and brought her fingers to his lips. "So, it's true. This is real."

"It is," she confirmed. "I'm awake . . . sort of."

"I . . . I need to wake up. I'll leave tonight—"

"Hold up there," she said sternly, propping herself up on an elbow to glare down at him. "You're not going anywhere. You're clearly exhausted; you fell asleep at your desk, love. How about I come home to you tomorrow?"

He let the tip of his middle finger run along the edge of her cheek and down along the shell of her ear. "You're not up for a strenuous journey, and I've been taking care of myself just fine on my own, thank you. Are _you_ all right? Have you eaten? Has Kimya checked in on you? Are you comfortable?"

"I'm _fine_ ," she growled. "The chickens will look after me for the trip, and anyway, I've been getting more sleep than you lately."

"The matter of sleep will always be difficult when even an extra hour may cost hundreds of lives."

"Remember, lives can be lost just as easily because you're too tired to perform at your best." She let out a long sigh, snuggling into his chest as he brought his hands up to hold her close. "I'll be able to help soon."

Elation threatened to bubble over as he grinned up at the vaulted wooden ceiling, squeezing her warm body and stirring inside her at the thought of doing this again in reality.

"Insatiable, you are," she chuckled. "You _do_ look incredibly handsome with your hair like that, by the way."

As she pressed a brief, sweet kiss to his chest, he said disbelievingly, "This is real. You're really coming home to me."

"Tomorrow."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

The translation to the lyrics of Somnus were too fitting not to use, so I pulled them from the wiki and changed only the gender of the deity. In the context of this story, Eos sleeps beneath the planet while Solheim creates the virus, of which they lose control. It kills her, and the tragedy of the Astral war divides man and god, god and god. In despair, Eos waits, looking to the dawn of the prophecy, which will free her from her torment.

Bahamut and the other gods cannot bring people back from the dead in this world, contrary to canon.

I know very, very little about swords or swordfighting. The sword forms were taken from Wheel of Time.

The photo of the tutu is taken by Caroline Holden of the Birmingham Royal Ballet's Beauty and the Beast.


	89. Chapter 89

**Author's Note:  
**

Warning: Brief mention of vomiting.

* * *

His heart wasn't beating in his chest; his bond had grown still as though on bated breath, but it was drowned out by the searing chill of the Crystal freezing its way down his nerves.

Everything was wrong.

Ignis hadn't realized just how reliant the human body was on time to measure out its existence, more than a mere convenience but a necessity for survival. How long had he existed in this frozen realm of sparkling blue, neither living nor dead? Had he been standing in the comfort of his familiar world, he would have estimated a fraction of a second, but laughable human concerns such as seconds didn't exist here in this place.

The longer he loitered, the more the atmospheric pressure increased, pressing down on his lungs and skull in an alarming way that made him wonder if his eyes and tongue would burst from his head if he were to remain in this timeless dimension much longer. Despite his body's protestations, he strode forward in a weightless, sightless daze—past the wispy shadows he couldn't stop to identify—choosing to forgo a more elegant gymnastic maneuver as Noct had always performed, at least for this first time.

Reaching out with his Intuition, he felt for the dagger he had tossed back in a world where time and breathing and life existed, and—there—a ghostly impression of the armiger, the pool of fiery gold that was Laura's magic, and the vast ocean of turbulent energy from the firestone in the blade's hilt. He closed his hand around the shadow he could feel in his teeth more than he could see and thrust forward with all his might.

The jarring vibration that radiated painfully up his right hand told him that he'd hit his mark, but the sudden reassertion of time and air and life and bond dumped over him like a shock of icy water. He gasped indignantly at the sheer unpleasantness of the sensation drowning out his senses—until the roiling nausea tightened his stomach, forcing his sight inward in an attempt to control his constitution.

 _Oh, love, it's rough the first few times, but it gets better. I promise._

Laura's words brought little comfort as, for the first time since Pitioss, he dropped to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach with a gut-stabbing heave. As the liquid spewed from his mouth onto the brittle grass beneath him, he distantly supposed that at the very least, it was a small mercy he'd prepared for this and had only had water this morning.

And to think, Noct had begun training for this unpleasant process as a mere child.

"Holy shit," Libertus muttered under his breath as he hustled to Ignis's side. "I gotta stop being surprised at what you're capable of, quick as you picked up hardcasting. You're gonna be airstepping in no time."

Ignis let out a final cough before sucking in the largest lungful of cold, morning air he could muster. "I should consider myself fortunate if I can step my way back inside the city," he choked.

As he sat back on his knees in the brown grass, he pulled his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wiped delicately at his mouth. A hand appeared in his peripheral vision, and he reached up to grasp it as Libertus pulled him to his feet.

"I gotta admit, I didn't think that dagger would work," Libertus said as Ignis yanked it from its place buried in the trunk of a dead tree and dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Never seen a bond with a weapon that strong. It's why we usually do this kinda thing out here. More dangerous with the daemons, but you're less likely to miss the blade end up inside a wall and kill yourself."

"They are my preferred daggers. Perhaps that we've been through so much together has instilled a deeper bond," he suggested, though he knew that wasn't the reason. "I find my favored lance and katana slower and less powerful, so I tend to use the daggers almost exclusively unless I'm aiming to keep a distance from my opponent."

"It's not that," Libertus replied, jerking his head back toward the city walls that barred the wilderness from the road into town. Ignis did his best to maintain a smooth gait on his shaky knees as he followed, but a veil of lassitude settled over him as he clumsily threw his leg over the bar and stepped onto the asphalt. "There's a little spark of something in every weapon, something that connects to the ground the metal came from, our home. It's why Glaive Guardians can warp with a brand new weapon. But those . . . I dunno, they feel wrong . . . cursed or somethin'. Where'd you get 'em?"

"A gift from my wife," he said, his tongue wrapping oddly around the words. When Libertus cast him a dubious look from the side of his eye, Ignis explained further, "I'm familiar with the sensation to which you're referring. It's not a cause for concern."

"It's got something to do with your connections to the Royal Family, doesn't it?"

 _That_ particular question seemed to wipe his head instantly clear of the fog of exhaustion threatening to pull him under. "What on Eos would cause you to say such a thing?"

"You can do everything a Glaive can and a lotta stuff we can't—that elemental stuff with your blades, and you can do more stuff with spiritual magic than anyone I've ever seen . . . way beyond casting cheer with that sigil from the Wanderer. We're not stupid, you know. Figured you must be second in line for a reason."

 _I don't think your spiritual magic has anything to do with your distant relation to the Caelums,_ Laura said.

 _Nor do I. Noct was never particularly adept at the skill, and neither was His Majesty._

 _I've been reading over that journal you found for my research, and I've been wondering about this guy's abrupt changes in opinion and what he said about the Queen being able to sway hearts._

 _Oh? You think my ability is a product of my Solheimian heritage?_

At Ignis's silence, Libertus continued with a sigh,

"Listen, I know people talk without knowing what's goin' on. Back in Insomnia, I usta be one of 'em. But for what it's worth? The Guardians are behind you no matter what, with or without Cor and Gladio. We wouldn't've made it these last five years without you."

 _Why not?_ _Part of the burning knowledge he received could have been the passion to inspire fellow man,_ Laura said. _Your mother has it too, and it's not as though everyone in your family has lived a life that allowed them to be tested for magical abilities. Your regenerate and overwhelm techniques are_ _ **so**_ _strong when no one else I've met possesses anything like it._

"You have my thanks," Ignis replied just as the gate taken from one of the blockade walls came into view. "Out of curiosity, does that include those who have recently had their memories restored by the Draconian?"

It was, perhaps, a boorish question to ask, but the concept of traitors walking freely among them, despite the gods' claim that they had regained their honor after betraying King Regis, never sat quite right with him. Besides the shock value, he couldn't fathom a reason for why the gods had taken away their memories, except perhaps to allow them to let go of their bitterness long enough to see that serving the people was more important now that there was no more King of Lucis or Niflheim to fight.

 _Cursed, traitorous armies are nothing new in the multiverse, love. I worked with a dead one once in Middle Earth._

 _I would still feel more comfortable sending them out on field missions—gathering shards, keeping watch over Angelgard, watching for Noct's return. You know, they found the Royal Vessel last week._

"Yeah, even them," Libertus answered. "I know you don't trust Bahamut's word, but you can trust mine. They've pledged themselves to hearth and home, and Lestallum is home now."

 _That's good to hear. I'm telling you, someone in Calcano probably used it to flee to Lucis. I bet they didn't moor it properly when they landed, and she floated away._

Libertus waved up at the guard standing sentinel on top of the concrete wall, and the metal doors pulled apart just far enough to allow the two of them to pass. Ignis stepped to the side into a small black booth and closed the heavy curtain behind him. He closed his eyes as blinding white light flooded the tiny space—the UV treatment required of every person entering from the outside no matter how brief the absence. After several seconds, it grew dark again, but it was only the sound of someone pulling the curtain back that convinced him not fall asleep right there on his feet.

 _You're exhausted. Come home._

 _I must stop by the office first._

 _Ignis . . ._ , she warned.

 _I'm right here. It will only take a moment,_ he argued. _Luke likely left a paper on my desk._ _I'd hate to see it go to waste._

The border patrol operative stepped up close, scanning Ignis's face carefully for any signs of hemorrhaging as Ignis obediently turned and presented each side for inspection.

"All clear, Your Grace."

"Thank you."

After a wave of thanks to Libertus and a promise to meet him for practice in a few days, he crossed the road at the gas station and made his way to the empty Council headquarters.

 _It's Hootd Eve,_ she said exasperatedly. _Doesn't anyone get the day off?_

 _Are_ _ **you**_ _taking the day off?_

 _All right, I guess you have a point._ _Have you seen my jacket? I was going to do a load of your laundry before Prompto got here for his blood test, and I wanted to throw it in there._

 _Apologies, it's draped over the arm of my desk chair. I patched it up while you were out training Iris this morning._

 _You didn't have to do that, especially considering how late we stayed up last night._

He smiled a little to himself, recalling the cozy sepia-colored light under the blanket tent in the living room he had come home to the night before, where Laura had insisted they lay like children among piles of soft pillows as he completed a report to the Council on Sania's research into daemon migratory patterns. Of course, he'd found a much more enticing use for the intimate space before they drifted off curled around each other.

 _I know, but I had a spare moment._

As he opened the front door of the building and stowed his keys away, Ignis stopped at the sight of Gladio hunched over on the stairs, his hands wringing restlessly in front of him.

"Gladio," he greeted with a nod. At the sound of his voice, Gladio shot to his feet as though he'd been caught doing something wrong. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just waitin' to talk to you."

"How did you know I'd be in today?"

"Pfft. It's you. Knew you couldn't resist if you were gonna be within a hundred-yard radius of this place. How you feelin'?"

"I've discovered a newfound respect for the Glaives' constitution, but I'll manage. Was there a particular reason you were waiting?"

"Uhh . . . yeah. Got kind of a weird question to ask."

"Then perhaps we'd better take this to my office."

Ignis passed him on the stairs and made his way up to his office door as Gladio shuffled behind him. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

He ushered Gladio inside and shut the door before heading to his desk to sit, taking note of the paper lying in the middle of his desk and the updated population count written carefully in Luke's hand on the whiteboard behind him: 742,694 citizens left on this eos.

"The incident at the Norduscaean Garrison?" Gladio asked as he sat, nodding at the board.

"Indeed. No matter what I do, that number only seems to decrease."

"Gettin' harder to protect shit all spread out now that the power's back online everywhere."

"Yes, but the population is fortunately still large enough that the additional space is necessary. Crowding will do no one any good when a disease is running rampant. And the chocobos and livestock aren't exactly compact."

"Oh yeah, speaking of Caem, you heard the news from Prompto yet?"

"I haven't."

 _He's only just arrived in town. He hasn't made it to the house yet,_ Laura added.

"Well, minor thing is that chocobos are starting to turn orange from all those carrot tops we been feedin' 'em. And a big thing: guess you're a grandpa now. Calima and Saracchian's egg hatched."

The news lifted the fog of his drowsy thoughts for a moment. "Really? A boy or girl? What color?"

Gladio chuckled, shaking his head. "Everything about you guys gotta be fucking weird, I swear. She's a freakshow, but pretty damn cute from what I hear—black _and_ white."

Ignis sat back in the plush leather, closing his eyes even as Laura's bubbling excitement frothed across the backs of his eyelids. _Black and white? Like a cow? Oh! Can we call her Bessie?_

 _Whatever you wish, love,_ he sighed tiredly before adding to Gladio, "That's good to hear. Last I heard, Kaze and Sunny were growing rather close. Do we have a second set of lovebirds in our flock?"

"Dunno. Noticed Sunny's been coming when I call Kaze lately, so maybe. No eggs yet though. Which . . . uh, kinda brings me to my next point."

At the hesitation in Gladio's tone, Ignis opened his eyes and leaned forward to watch his shifty gaze and uncharacteristically fidgety hands.

Gladio stared down at a bare spot on Ignis's desk, a deep frown tugging at his lips. "Can't believe I'm askin' you . . . of all people," he muttered before letting out a long sigh. "You uh . . . got any condoms left these days?"

Ignis blinked. Of every topic he could have imagined Gladio to bring up, this had certainly not made the list. "I haven't. Not for some number of years now."

Though he still refused to look up, Gladio's dark brow furrowed. "Uh . . . what've you um . . . been using all this time then?"

Ignis stared down at the identical spot on the desk that had captured Gladio's interest so. Surely this was obvious? He and Laura were different species, after all.

"We've never used anything." Which technically wasn't true, but Ignis wasn't about to detail how his first and only box had been used against trees and boulders when the retinue had been out hunting and they hadn't had access to showering facilities afterward, and the last one in the back seat of his Insignia.

"Shit," Gladio spat, and they both met each other's eyes. "I know you had a special education growing up, but maybe they never told you . . . that's how you wind up with kids, you know that?"

"Of course I know that," he snapped, then looked away again. The muscle in his jaw twitched involuntarily before he managed to say under his breath, "She can't have them."

Ignis had enough time to contemplate how off-center the staple was on the corner of his latest Galdin Quay report before Gladio spoke in a soft tone, "That explains why you keep stalling with your parents. What about the line?"

"Damn the line," Ignis growled. He'd long grown weary of having this discussion. Laura had only just soothed his parents' frustration on the subject, citing the ineffectiveness of driving a wedge between them, and he was only just beginning to trust that they wouldn't suddenly ambush him with the topic.

And now Gladio.

"Hey, you think I don't get it?" Gladio asked, raising his hands in surrender. "Eldest son of a nearly-extinct noble house. I'm not puttin' pressure. I'm just askin'."

Even with his capitulation, Ignis couldn't completely dispel the edge of impatience to his answer. "The line dies with me, as it was always meant to. It begins and ends with Ignis Scientia. Why do you think I've been so careful to name the line of succession?"

"I dunno. Uncertain times, I guess—even though I think you're a damn fool for putting me next."

"I did nothing. The job was always meant to be yours, and since you've taken your place as High Commander, it's only appropriate."

"Cor would've been better for this."

"General Cor would be adequate, but he doesn't have the full scope of your diplomatic training."

"Still manages to be more diplomatic," he muttered.

"And the rest of the old regime is dead. We must begin choosing our own senior advisors," Ignis continued. "Unfortunately, in my case, that will include choosing an heir to my estate—at the very least for the sake of my father's position."

Gladio's lips lifted in a crooked smirk. "Listen to you, talking about your dad like you're human or something. I always figured one day you'd come out and confess you were Magitek or a god or something."

"I assure you I'm as human as they come . . . unfortunately."

He had already shaken off his brief wave of melancholia when Laura gently inserted herself into his consciousness.

 _Ignis . . .._

 _I'm all right,_ he said reassuringly.

"How you been takin' that? We're not gettin' any younger here, and she ain't gettin' any older."

"Give her _some_ credit. I didn't make a single decision regarding her blindly. She ensured I was fully aware of all the consequences before I committed myself."

"Yeah, but dealing with them is another thing."

He sat in silence for several moments, backing away from his connection with Laura and debating whether he should even bother putting to words that which he'd hardly admitted to himself. Finally, he opened his mouth and laid everything on the desk between them.

"I won't lie and say that I've never had the fleeting fantasy to create life with the two of us. However, neither of us possesses any great desire for child rearing—again, in my case, and the point is that it's impossible regardless. Man was not meant to wrap a net around the wings of a goddess and tie her to this world, but that won't stop my selfish soul from doing so for my own sake. No matter the cost, I'll never regret choosing her."

Gladio didn't speak for several more seconds as he scratched absentmindedly at his beard. "Don't think I'll ever get how you just . . . so casually tossed out the whole dating experience. This is the rest of your life we're talkin' about, man. How'd you know you were done?"

"I've always known precisely what I wanted as soon as I've decided—and, if you'll forgive me, I've never been particularly interested in the ordinary."

The fleeting thought flew through his head to inquire about Gladio's intentions for his own line, but he bit back the thought, as he'd had quite enough soul-searching with friends for one morning. Grateful that Gladio had introduced this somewhat awkward topic with a confession of his own, Ignis turned the tables on the conversation.

"As to your predicament, historically speaking, people once used lamb intestines. Although they aren't effective against sexually transmitted disease, they do offer protection against pregnancy with 98% effectiveness if you use them properly. I'd still recommend not engaging while your partner is fertile, however, just to be on the safe side."

"That's . . . disgusting," Gladio said, his eyes widening in horror.

"Honestly, you can field dress an anak, but you can't handle bedding a woman properly," Ignis replied with a huff. "If the advice puts you off, then perhaps I've managed to be of some help, after all. Otherwise, the best contraception would be oral . . . though you'd be expected to reciprocate."

Gladio leaned forward suddenly, choking on his own breath. "That's . . . I can't believe I just heard that come outta your mouth."

"Yes, well, sometimes a man's limits can be tested." He stood and folded the paper, placing it in his jacket pocket. "Please, forgive me, but I must be getting home if I am to be playing a gracious host this evening."

Gladio stood abruptly from his chair and turned toward the door with him. "Oh, yeah. Hey, hope you guys aren't goin' all out for this thing tonight. It's just the four of us. Leave the fancy shit for the big shindig tomorrow."

"Laura's handling all the preparations for both gatherings. I'm afraid I could only commit to a couple of seafood dishes at Cid's insistence," he said, stifling a yawn. "Tonight will be simple and traditional—tea and cake."

Gladio patted him hard on the back as Ignis closed the office door behind him and turned to lock it. "Good. Now go home and get some sleep, man. You look dead on your feet."

* * *

Ignis was shivering in his Crownsguard jacket by the time he reached his front door—the winter chill in this nearly sunless world piercing through his clothes down to his bones. Before he was able to begin fumbling for the correct key with his nerveless gloved fingers, the door swung open to reveal Laura, who pulled him inside by the lapel of his jacket and planted a brief kiss to his frozen cheek.

 _I'm sorry; Prompto's still here. And since you refuse to sleep while we have company, why don't you go upstairs and change into something warm and comfortable?_

Ignis closed his eyes and nodded wearily before heading upstairs without a word.

He was certainly in no mood to entertain after the morning he'd had, but this was the price he had to pay in exchange for one of Laura's rare stays here in Lestallum—bringing her research home with her. It wasn't as though Prompto's visit was merely social, either, so Ignis could hardly fault him for being here while Ignis would have much rather preferred a hot bath and a bed. Tremors washed down his body in long waves, making his teeth chatter as he defied instinct and stripped down. He pulled on his oldest, softest pair of dark blue jeans, a long-sleeved white button-down, and his favorite heavy black knitted sweater with the sleeves that fell to his fingernails.

He was just stepping out of the bathroom, daydreaming about a steaming cup of herbal tea to warm him, when his attention caught on the journal laid open on his desk—not the one that contained his lists and recipes. A weary helplessness weighed him down as he let his fingers trail over the places on the page where tears had dripped off his nose and turned the ink into watercolor as he had written this particular entry and created a humble attempt at a sketch of her profile—hunched furtively over a desk in the corner of an Altissian hotel room in the middle of the night.

 _Waking up next to her for the first time, I knew the moment I opened my eyes and saw how the Lestallum light hit her hair and the curve of her hip to dance across her skin that I was forever a broken man, destined to adore her and no other for as long as I lived. Yet for once in my life, I became a willing slave to it with the absolute, doubtless knowledge that she felt precisely the same._

 _The scent of her lotion and shampoo—the freshest Duscaean pine and sweet, floral kithairon—combined with the musk of her sex and mine, inciting a fiery desire to fill her again, to allow our scents to intermingle until we were both permanently etched into each other's skin as she had permanently etched herself into my heart._

 _Oh, Astrals, how could I have forgotten, there on that altar? For the briefest span, I knew true completion before slaughtering her with my own foolish recklessness. The least I can do is to never forget a single detail in testament to her memory and all she has given me. This I vow—to never, ever forget._

The memories of utter despair continued to batter at him as he read his own desperate words, echoing the unspoken plea for everything to be reset to before he had learned the truth of his future, before he had lost her and Noct. Clenching his teeth, he flipped the book shut with a satisfying thud.

 _I'm sorry,_ Laura said, her concern wiggling its way into his turbulent thoughts. _I was cleaning upstairs, and you'd left it open. I swear, I didn't read beyond that page. You don't still feel that way, do you? That day . . . it was all my fault._

 _Yes and no. It's complicated,_ he replied shortly as he fished the paper out of his blazer pocket and dismissed his jacket.

She retreated a little in contrition. _I really am sorry. You know how I read. Just a glance._

He let out a breath, clearing his head of his irritation and steeling his patience as he made his way downstairs. _It's not your fault. I shouldn't have left it out if I didn't wish it to be read. I was merely adding some memories this morning . . . and remembering._

As Ignis trudged downstairs, Prompto's overenthusiastic voice rose up to the ceiling. "Hey, how come you don't have some tiny super computer from the planet Zyrtec or something to like . . . I dunno, cure the whole world?"

He may not have been able to see the two of them in the kitchen, but Ignis could imagine her biting her lip as clearly as though she'd been standing right in front of him. "It's complicated."

In his naïveté, Prompto couldn't have realized the depth of the pool he'd just waded into, one that had often kept Ignis and Laura up debating late into the night. The use of parachronistic technology from other worlds and universes to change the course of history of this one could wind up killing them all if Laura wasn't very, very careful. Even after having learned so much of time travel and how much her limitations held her back, it was difficult for Ignis to accept that the key to solving all their problems could very well be a summon away, could very well be the microscope he'd brought back from the second Solheim, but that threat of the end of the world or creating a divergence point with Laura's involvement was always hanging over their heads. The temptation alone was why she didn't typically keep tech or advanced weaponry in her Pocket.

"Hey, Iggy!" Prompto greeted, leaping from his seat to wave frantically. But a shadow passed over his face the moment he had drawn himself up, and Laura laid a heavy hand on his shoulder to push him back into the barstool.

"No standing up for another couple of minutes, and drink your juice," she commanded, pointing to the glass of vibrant scarlet fluid on the counter.

"Good morning," Ignis greeted in return as he carefully arranged himself in the far corner of the sofa to face them.

Laura danced to the counter by the coffee maker, grabbed a mug, and came over to press the steaming porcelain into Ignis's hands.

 _I hope you don't mind spearmint,_ she said, but he could still feel and hear the remorse oozing deep blue between them.

He cupped the tea gratefully between both his numb hands, but before she could turn to head back into the kitchen, he caught her fingers briefly and squeezed them.

 _Thank you_. She gave him a tender smile before turning back to Prompto, and looking over at him, Ignis asked, "Are you well?"

Of the four of them, Ignis believed that these past five years since Gralea had been hardest on Prompto. He hadn't been quite right for a while after Penelope had died, his smile dimmer and his laugh a little more forced. But his love for her had been cut off at the very pinnacle, and no amount of distractions with chocobo training was going to return the authenticity to his expression. It had only been in the last year that Ignis had seen a bit of that old light returning to his eyes—despite this most recent development.

"Guess we'll find out when Laura runs the next sample!"

Laura paused after pulling out a plaster and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you're fine. We just need to keep an eye on you."

"And this is all cause my sample from last time grew scourge faster than anyone else's? It's not cause of the thing with . . .," his voice shrank a fraction lower, "Penelope, is it?"

"No, dear. It's just that of the samples run so far, your DNA has mutated the fasted. Since I'm pretty sure anyone under the protection of the Crystal has greater immunity, I need some blood this time to figure out why. That psychopath screwed with your DNA to make it easier for you to transform, and I need to figure out what he knew."

"Whose was the slowest to transform?" Ignis asked.

"It's pretty much the order you would expect. Mine, Ardyn's, and Noct's didn't transform at all. Then you, Gladio, and Prompto in that order. I've noticed a similar trend for Glaives, Guards, and Hunters, as well. Glaives are the most steeped in magic and are therefore slower to contract the disease, but the Hunters don't have the Crystal's protection, which is why they're getting the brunt of it."

"And where, might I ask," he began, a hint of warning coloring his tone, "did you obtain a DNA sample from Ardyn?"

A sly smirk spread across her lips as she said mysteriously, "Invited him over for tea once upon a time."

"What's that guy up to these days, anyway?" Prompto asked.

"Rumor placed him outside Pitioss after it was destroyed," Ignis said.

"He's bored," Laura said with a shrug. "I catch fleeting impressions of him around Lestallum sometimes, probably spreading those terrible rumors. He definitely follows me from time to time, and let's just say the location of those nidus nests can be rather convenient."

"He's following you? You never told me that," Ignis said accusingly. "Doubtless he's trying to find the lab. I've never cared for you working with Dr. Yeagre and Kimya in that decrepit shack of hers; that's no sort of protection."

"Ignis," she sighed, removing the cotton ball from the inside of Prompto's elbow and applying the plaster. "Sania and I are more than a match for anything that finds us out there. And I can't work with scourge samples on the farm for the same reason I can't here in Lestallum—we can't risk another outbreak."

"If there's another outbreak, does that mean I'm definitely gonna get it?" Prompto asked. "I mean, you'd think after all the times I've been bitten . . .."

"You still have the advantage of the Crystal's protection, but please be more careful in the future, yeah? Don't want to lose you," she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his temple.

"No way am I goin' anywhere! Got chickens to train, after all!"

"Speaking of, tell me about our new little girl. I so wanted to be there for the hatching, but I couldn't set up the timing right with my samples."

Sensing a rehash of every chocobo hatching since Laura had last been in town, Ignis let his eyes wander sleepily to the paper in his hands.

 _ **Last Public Edition of the Eosian Times! Look to Your Community Bulletins for Additional News!**_

 _Paper is becoming a precious commodity. Get your news at your local bulletin board instead! Regular editions of our e-newsletter and morning radio show will still be available on your tablets and phones._

 _ **Lucian Population Swells as Terraverde Declared Abandoned**_

 _The last of Niflian and Tenebraean citizens were evacuated from the freezing climes of Fenestala Manor last month by Niflian president Aranea Highwind, leaving the entire continent to the daemons. Yet years after establishing peaceable relations with Lucis, Niflian refugees are still the focus of bitter sentiment stemming from the war, but recent efforts to further integrate the populations by Lady A prove that she's just as talented in government policy as she is with a polearm . . ._

 _ **Light Restored to Lucis!**_

 _Five years after the catastrophic power failure that took out EXINERIS's entire grid, Holly Teulle is pleased to announce that with the exception of Insomnia proper, electricity has been restored to all of Lucis. Additionally, thanks to the efforts of Cindy Aurum and Prompto Argentum, essential outposts have been converted to wind and water power to prevent such a disaster occurring again . . ._

 _ **Main Man of Maagho More Than a Politician**_

 _Lucis's very own Deputy First Secretary Weskham Armaugh, representing Accordo on the Council of UNE, has finally released the secret recipe to his signature dish, Lasagna Al Forno—previously known as Maagho Lasagna in Altissia's famous Maagho Café—just in time for Hootd season . . ._

 _ **Rare Aspidochelon Sighted: Breeding or Breakfast?**_

 _The Aspidochelon, a creature known for storing considerable nutrients in its hump, is capable of feeding two hundred hungry mouths or more in a single sitting, and Guardians are faced with a distressing dilemma. Do they hunt the creature roaming south Cauthess down, or do they send it to a farm in the hopes of breeding more?_

 _ **Crush on Kenny Crow**_

" _He was always decent on the field," Mat Kishimoto says, "but these last couple of years—it's like he's one of our best now, and we still have no idea who he is."_

 _Speculation swept through Lestallum when the mystical mascot appeared on scene the day after EXINERIS's famous power grid failure. The pugnacious crow simply began showing up to lend a wing wherever he was needed before sharing a meal at a haven then flying off without a word besides his famous slogan._

" _Sometimes he's missing for days, even weeks at a time," Kishimoto adds. "I just wish I knew where that short little dude goes when he's not on our team . . ."_

 _ **Royal Retinue Rounding Up Royal Sigils**_

 _These boys are fast proving their mettle with their heroic feats and valorous contributions to humanity. With the holidays coming up, let us all take the time to recognize their efforts and thank them for all they do!_

 _Starting with Prompto Argentum: the conscientious companion of the King has earned six sigils from the Kings of Yore, but the public is eagerly awaiting what his latest act of heroism will bring. Seventeen lives and a shipment full of supplies were saved as a direct result of Argentum's actions when a cargo ship full of refugees was attacked by the Devil of the Cygillan . . ._

Ignis snorted in derision as he skimmed over the list of his, Prompto's, and Gladio's accomplishments over the last few years and the sigils they'd received as a result. These seals of power and protection were being gifted to everyone, it seemed, but Ignis and the other two refused to equip one. Not only had they found that they could only be wielded one at a time and often enhanced abilities they didn't need or want in combat, they also hadn't received a straight answer as to the cost of using one. Ignis still hadn't forgotten the Old Kings' trickery towards him in the other universes, and the fact that not a single king had approached Laura also contributed to his decision.

He closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. Heroic feats, indeed . . ..

* * *

Ignis flinched as he felt the handle of his mug fall from his limp fingers, but as he waited with his eyes closed for the thud of the porcelain hitting the rug at his feet, the silence of the room indicated that not only was his mug not falling, but that Prompto had also left.

 _Rose?_ He blearily cracked his eyes open to find that his glasses had slipped to the very end of his nose, allowing him a clear view of Laura on her knees in front of him, tugging at his house slippers with a contrite frown on her face and concern brewing in the back of her mind.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, setting the slippers aside and rubbing both her hands up and down his thighs. "I knew you were tired, but this was the happiest I'd seen him in a while."

He clumsily brought a hand to slip through the long tendrils of hair that she'd left hanging loose from her clip. "'Tis the season for good deeds," he mumbled. "It was good to see him on his own for a bit. I see neither of you as often as I'd like."

"Well, he'll be here tonight. And . . . he's bringing friends to the party tomorrow."

"Last minute guests?" he groaned.

"Don't worry about it for a second. I'm handling everything." Her hands paused over his knees, and she gave the left one a tight squeeze, frowning ever so slightly. "Has this given you any trouble?"

"Mmm, not since you took care of it," he said thickly as she squeezed her way back up his thighs.

"Good. You're about to pass out on me again. Did you want to sleep upstairs or right here?"

"Who is he inviting?" he asked, grazing his fingertips over the apple of her cheek.

He felt her smile more than he could see it through the veil of his heavy eyelashes. "Gutsco . . ."

"Oh, _Astrals_ , not _him_ ," he moaned. "That man is utterly useless. An insult to the uniform he refuses to wear."

"Oi! You leave him alone! It's not easy to keep going out there and getting killed like that."

"The only thing keeping me from calling him in front of the Council and accusing him of sabotage, and yet I wonder if even that is beyond him."

"Ignis Scientia!"

"What?" he asked, cracking an eye open to glare at her indignant expression. "I'm sorry, but the King relinquished a portion of his life force for each member inducted. I expect them all to perform, at the very least, beyond the level of that of the most mediocre Accordion foot soldier."

"He wants to do his part, even if he's bad at it. No matter how many times that poor man dies, he still comes right back and puts his name on the list for the next mission."

"Galahdians _are_ well-known for their hard-headedness."

"And Insomnians, too, you'd do well to remember," she chastised, but her expression softened as she continued, "Plus . . . I think it's sort of cute the way he matches his jacket to the element he's using that day."

"Does he really? I hadn't noticed." Letting out a weary sigh, he said, "Very well, Gutsco is coming tomorrow night. Anyone else?"

"Delilah. I think Prompto's been seeing her."

Ignis's eyes shot open at her words. "The amnesiac white mage with the crossbow?"

"The very same. But as I said, I'm taking care of all the preparations. I even sent Prompto over to dispatch to talk Monica into making something other than that tentacle soup she calls the Eternal Abyss."

"Thank the stars for that."

"I do hope you'll forgive me for any inconvenience I've caused," she said, taking his hand and bringing his palm to her mouth. His skin was always a touch more sensitive when he was sleepy, and this morning was no exception as her soft, plump lips and warm, tickling breaths prickled across his hand and down to his wrist. The hand that was still stroking his thigh moved to the zipper of his jeans. _Will you let me make it up to you?_

He let his lips part at her words as he inhaled deeply, the image of her servicing him searing itself onto his mind's eye. Astrals, but he couldn't seem to get enough of her; it had been two months since she'd last been here in Lestallum. Doubtless, she could feel him swelling beneath her hand at the mere suggestion of intimacy, but he removed it from the front of his trousers and reluctantly got to his feet, pulling her up with him and leaning down to press his lips briefly to hers.

"Mmm, perhaps later? As pleasant an experience as it would be, I don't believe I could ever forgive myself for falling asleep on you," he mumbled, attempting even in that moment to stifle a yawn.

"Come on, love," she said, leading him toward the stairs as he slumped against her shoulder. "Let's get you in bed."

The next thing he recalled was a vague impression of leaning down to steady himself as he stepped out of his jeans, soft hands on his bare chest in the chilly air, then warm and heavy covers being pulled up to his neck. Had she mentioned being busy today? But never mind. He drowsily stroked at their bond as she wrapped her consciousness around his and pressed another kiss to his forehead.

* * *

"Noct would've hated this cake," Prompto giggled, stabbing at another enormous bite before shoving it into his mouth.

Laura leaned over the coffee table from her spot at Ignis's feet to shove at Prompto's shoulder. "Manners!"

"I won't deny some small part of me took relish in adding carrots to a cake batter," Ignis said with a smug smile, but it fell away at the thought of Noct sprawled out on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, moaning at Ignis's insistence that he put vegetables in _everything_.

Gladio set his empty plate on the edge of the table and leaned back into his corner of the couch, rubbing at his knees. "Damn good stuff though, Iggy. Been missing that cooking of yours. You grow the carrots yourself, Laura?"

"Ignis did. He hasn't let me up on the roof in months."

"Sweet indeed are the fruits of one's own labors," he replied, attempting to steer the conversation away from why he might have been keeping Laura off the roof.

 _Are you certain you're all right on the floor? There's plenty of room for a third here,_ he added to Laura.

Without looking back to him, she wrapped her arm around his calf. _I'll sit up there if I want. I'm fine down here with Prompto._

Ignis's attention shifted to Prompto, who had also finished his slice and was longingly eyeing the serving platter in the middle of the table between them. "Laura tells me you're inviting friends to our celebration tomorrow evening. I didn't realize you were familiar with Gutsco and Delilah."

"Well . . .," Prompto said with a grimace, "I don't know Gutsco really, but he and Delilah didn't have a place to go for Hootd, so when I invited Delilah, she asked if he could come too. Hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Laura said. "I told you it was, didn't I?"

"Not like we don't have plenty of space. That's the benefit of having most of the Council in the family—use of HQ," Gladio said. He leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs as he grinned ferally at Prompto. "So where'd you meet her?"

Prompto's smile dimmed a little as he stared down at his plate. "We're kinda just friends. Asked her to train with me just outside the power plant, and it was goin' really good! Then I might've . . . petrified her and taken a selfie."

"Oh, Prompto, you didn't . . .," Laura moaned.

But Prompto nodded. "Kinda? She totally buttslammed me after though."

"I haven't worked with her in the field, merely in lessons, but she's a talented healer," Ignis said.

Gladio snorted. "Who _will_ you work with in the field? Seriously, besides us and Trina, Talcott, and Iris, don't think I ever see you do a mission with the Guardians."

"I have my preferred group I'll work with. Iris and Talcott are specially trained in research and working without lights."

"Who'd've thunk when we left Insomnia that Iggy'd end up liking the dark?" Prompto laughed, leaning back on his arms.

"You've done a good job with Iris and Talcott," Gladio said. "Regular tomb raiders now, and that shit's deadly with the spells protecting the tombs getting weaker."

"It feels like only yesterday they were still children," Ignis said, remembering their bright, youthful faces when the retinue had first arrived in Lestallum after the Fall. "Lady Iris in particular has progressed immensely."

She was twenty now—almost the age Ignis had been when he'd left home for good. Time seemed to be rushing past them all far too quickly.

"Clarus and Jared would be proud," Laura said softly, turning to stare up at him with eyes wide with meaning and pity he couldn't bear to see.

"Our mom, too," Gladio added.

They grew quiet, each lost in their own thoughts as they sipped at their tea—Yucchi Wild Mountain Black, with its buttery, fruity, yam flavor that went so well with their cake. Ignis tried not to think about the future as he breathed the flavors of the warming liquid across his palate. How many years had passed for Noct in that vision? Would time work the same for him in the Crystal as it did out here in the world? How much longer did Ignis have left to discover a solution? The tombs of the Old Kings had yielded nothing in the way of helping Noct thus far—merely tales of lost loved ones, the regrets of mistakes made, and pleas for the future King of Light to rid the world of the foes they couldn't defeat themselves.

He wasn't certain what he was expecting to find, if anything, in the remaining five he had left to explore. The Old Kings seemed to be interested in following the plan set forth by whatever power dictated fate and weren't keen on offering up any information that could be used to deviate from that path. It wasn't as though the line whose founding member had struck his own brother from the history books would express much interest in revealing their secrets about Ardyn merely because they were dead now.

Still, he had to try.

Gladio was the one to break the silence by raising his teacup in the air. "To fallen friends and family."

"To Noct," Prompto added, rising up on his knees to join in the toast.

"To those we still have left to protect," Laura said.

"To Eos, to the dawn," Ignis finished, and they all clinked their cups together.

* * *

Ignis tied the blue and white striped robe more tightly around his waist and summoned his roof shoes to his hand as he stepped lightly downstairs, but he froze when his other hand brushed against something prickly. Cautiously, he peered over the bannister.

Ignis hadn't had the opportunity to share a living space with Laura nearly as much as he wished, but he'd found during her stays that while she was an immense help with chores, he often fell victim to her capricious whimsy.

This morning was no exception.

"May I ask why there is an enormous live tree in our house?"

Laura's head appeared from around the side of the tree, where she had apparently been tying large sparkling bows the color of champagne and cranberry to the evergreen branches.

"I thought you said you decorated your houses for Hootd."

"With ribbons, flower arrangements, and lights—"

"There are lights right here, see?"

"That's . . . not the same thing at all."

He came to stand next to her, staring up at what looked like the tip of a Duscaean pine rising up to their ceiling where the mostly useless television and stand had been only just last night. Strings of small, white lights twinkled in its branches, setting the deep green needles aglow and the bulbs and trinkets to glittering burgundy and gold.

"Where I grew up, we used to do this for Christmas. I've been growing this one out at Myrl for the past couple of years to share it with you," she said in that luminous voice she so often used when she was pulling him off on an adventure, but it grew deadpan at her next words. "And I made certain it won't come to life and try to kill us."

"Oh, is that one of your Earth Christmas traditions as well?" he asked, placing an arm around her shoulders and admiring the vibrant colors. "If so, I must say I'm grateful for your restraint."

"For most people, no, but it did seem to be a tradition for the Doctor." She leaned heavily into his side and breathed deeply. "Your aftershave reminds me so much of Christmas," she murmured. "Did you want me to start you a cup of coffee before we do presents?"

"That sounds ideal. I have a quick errand to run outside."

Ignis had learned their very first Hootd season together that even with his most creative thinking and planning, Laura was impossible to get gifts for. She'd traveled universes for longer than his country had existed and had long ago satisfied her every need or desire. Neither of them held much interest in trifles, so birthdays and Hootd gifts had either focused on sentimentality or survival.

As he'd found himself missing her physical presence so often this year, he'd gone with sentimentality.

Having climbed to the roof and clipped the bush, Ignis did his best to gently shake the morning frost off the bouquet of deep crimson Hootd roses before working the golden ribbon he'd wrapped around the stems into a bow that satisfied him. He carefully placed them into a long, narrow box and replaced the lid—already wrapped and topped with its own burgundy ribbon. Even after several years of this, it was still a strange experience not to be wrapping the latest Assassin's Creed or console for Noct, and he found some small part of him missed the frying pan or book he would receive in return.

He frowned, smoothing his fingertips over the paper one last time before tucking the box under his arm and heading back inside.

Astrals, but the sight awaiting him was beautiful—Laura's childlike giddiness bubbling between them as she sat on the floor at the base of the tree and their largest mug filled to the brim with steaming black coffee.

"Happy Hootd, love," he said softly, folding his legs beneath him to sit next to her and placing his gift under the tree next to the small silver box that presumably belonged to him. Reaching behind him for his coffee, he asked, "So, is there any additional fanfare to this process?"

"Um, no? We just . . . dive in, I guess."

"Please, after you."

His chest grew warm at the sight of her grin as she leaned forward and reached for the box he'd just set down, but an edge of anticipation and uneasiness slithered and coiled around his thoughts. Perhaps this had been too simple; perhaps she wouldn't understand what he'd meant by gifting her with these.

"Ignis," she breathed when she'd lifted the lid to reveal the bright red bulbs, due to blossom fully by this evening, if he'd timed things correctly.

"I realize it's in somewhat poor taste to present a woman named Rose with a bouquet of Hootd roses," he said quickly in the wake of her silence, "but I'm afraid my options for winter-blooming flowers were somewhat limited. And I'm certain you could have grown them better—"

"Shut up," she said with a light smack to his arm before leaning up to press her lips to his cheek. She leapt to her feet, skipping to the kitchen and pulling a vase down from one of the cabinets. "These are beautiful, thank you. I can't believe you used up valuable space in the garden for something ornamental like this. Caring for these every day for months on end . . . you really are a sentimental fool."

So, she had understood. Of course she would.

She set the vase on the bar, caressing one of the velvet petals with a soft smile, before returning to sit next to him again.

"Your turn?" she asked, reaching for his gift and placing it into his hands.

A rush of warmth flooded his cheeks as a slow grin took over his face. He let his fingers trail over the dark blue silk ribbon she'd tied in a perfect bow, wondering what on Eos there was left for her to give him. He took his time unwrapping the box, sliding his thumb under the tape at the corner and appreciating the way the silver paper caught the light even as Laura's impatience grew ever more noticeable.

"Go on, open it!" she urged, bouncing and fidgeting in response to his slow, methodical movements. "You have no idea how hard it's been keeping this a secret!"

"I imagine it was, impatient creature that you are," he chuckled as he revealed the box and lifted the lid. With a frown of inquisitiveness, he plucked out the small phial filled with a clear, viscous fluid and held it up to the light. There were a thousand guesses racing through his head as to what it could be—from magical ingredients to some sort of poison. He looked back down at her shining expression in bemusement.

"Behemoth tears," she answered his wordless query, her voice brimming with excitement.

"How?"

"Contrary to popular belief, you don't need to kill them to get some."

"If anyone could, it would be you."

She looked up at him with his favorite tongue-touched smile. "I couldn't have you out there in the field without all the best weapons! I already spoke to Cid. Just drop your lance off with him tomorrow, and you'll have your dragon whiskers lance a couple of days after. He said for you, he'd even throw in an extra buff, whatever the hell that's supposed to entail."

 _Thank you_ , he said, leaning down to smile tenderly against her lips. "I thought I might break tradition this morning and instead make something light for breakfast—toast and fruit. Are you interested?"

"I'll slice some pears?"

"Pears and toast it is, and a rather fine pairing at that, but there's no need to pare them. I can eat the skin just fine," he said as he pulled himself to his feet and offered a hand to help Laura up, but her hand paused before it could make contact, a grimace spreading over her face.

 _What is it?_

But the knock at the door answered his question. _Were we expecting anyone over this morning?_ he asked, already knowing that she would never invite guests over to the house in the morning, even if it was a holiday.

 _No, but it's your parents._

 _I'm . . . we're still in our pajamas,_ he protested, frowning down at her dressing gown, but he should have expected this, honestly. Still, he wasn't feeling up to answering their myriad questions about his life and having them leveled against the son they would've had had they raised him themselves.

"Blimey, we can hardly sit in the living room whispering and hiding from them," she whispered with some amusement. "Go upstairs and change; I'll get the door." _You're not under attack here, love. Prying is just how love works sometimes, or do you not remember Noct being just as irritated with you?_

 _Touché,_ he remarked as he stood to rush up to the bedroom. _Though Noct was actually in need of prying, whereas I tend to be more self-sufficient._

By the time he'd rejoined them downstairs, his mother and father were standing with Laura around the kitchen bar, watching as she cut into what appeared to be a ring of fluffy chiffon cake and placed the slices on four plates.

 _More cake_ , he said flatly.

 _I swear, you are so moody in the mornings,_ she chuckled, ducking her head to hide the smile spreading over her face. She placed a plate in front of each of them as she cajoled, _Come now, they brought it for us. Just eat it and skip dessert tonight if you want, but it's Hootd. It's part of the tradition._

"Ignis!" his mother exclaimed, her viridian eyes lighting up as she rushed over. "Happy Hootd, darling!"

Ignis braced himself for the hug he knew was coming as he replied, "Happy Hootd, Mother."

As she threw herself enthusiastically into his arms, he wrapped them quickly around her before stepping back. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his mother's affection, but it seemed that no matter how long he'd had to grow accustomed to it, she still felt a stranger to him, her touch more an invasion of his personal space rather than the familial connection he'd always expected when he imagined a mother's touch.

He wondered what was the matter with him. Perhaps he was just as cold and unfeeling as everyone claimed him to be.

"Come," she urged, taking his elbow to lead him to the kitchen. "With Laura in town this year, I thought we'd celebrate. I made your favorite."

 _Absolutely nothing is the matter with you,_ Laura said harshly. _Just because you don't run around hugging everyone you know doesn't mean you don't care for them. Somewhere, deep down, you must remember them, or you wouldn't feel that sense of nostalgia I can feel from you now._

"Son," his father said with a nod when Ignis came to stand by the bar, "Happy Hootd."

"Father. And to you."

 _And clearly, some things are genetic,_ she added amusedly. _I bet he's just as warm with Trina as you are with me._

 _I beg of you, please stop there before this heads somewhere unpleasant._

Ignis and Laura both waited patiently for his parents before eating, as they tended to display religious practices at the most unpredictable times. Sure enough, his mother bowed her head, her light brown bob falling forward around her face as his father began to speak.

"Our Lord Ifrit, wherever your soul now wanders, we offer up our thanks this Hootd season—for our health; for our good fortune; for our lovely daughter-in-law. But most of all, we thank you for our son—for keeping him safe and guiding him to become a man who . . ."

Ignis met his father's intense gaze before breaking eye contact to stare down at the perfectly light texture of the cake on his plate. ". . . despite some personal disagreements, we're very proud of. We also pray that whatever fate may have befallen you that you are safely returned to your rightful state. In the name of the Infernian."

The four of them remained silent as they glanced briefly at one another, acknowledging the sentiment but saying nothing. Ignis swallowed the lump that had caught in his throat when his mother picked up her fork, breaking the spell.

Ignis silently picked up his fork and cut a small bite from the slice.

As the flavors of his mother's cake spread over his palate, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Of course. He should have realized . . .

Fluffy chiffon cake with Mama Edea's Cinnamon-Churned Honey.


	90. Chapter 90

It seemed like every outpost was doing pretty good these days, all things considered, but maybe because EXINERIS was right there providing power and safety to the people, Prompto could walk down the brightly-lit streets of Lestallum and practically breathe in the confidence that everything would be all right.

He should really come here more often. He could use the reminder now and then.

As much as he'd been missing company, it'd gotten too crowded in that little house with Gladio, Iris, Talcott, Monica, and Dustin, so he'd left ridiculously early for the party and casually strolled through the winding streets, up into the higher cliff parts of the city he'd never visited. Not a single building was boarded up, not a single wall had faded or peeling paint, and not a single piece of trash could be found on the streets. Really, the place looked better than when they'd first visited all those years ago.

There was something to be said about a cheery front making it seem like everything was all right when the surrounding world was literally going to hell. He knew the feeling.

The streetlamps glowed a bright amber, making one particular intersection covered in paper chains and tinsel look so romantic that he had to stop and take a few shots of all the people crazy enough to brave the cold and celebrate Hootd outside. Neighbors huddled around fires burning in metal drums while kids played chocobo's bluff and drew patterns for hopscotch in sidewalk chalk. And he stood there and laughed as they crowded around to make stupid faces at the camera.

"Hey, brother," an older dude called out, standing from a table covered in way too much food for an apocalypse to be going on. "You got a place to go? You're welcome to join us."

"Thanks!" Prompto said cheerfully, throwing the group of twelve or so an enthusiastic wave. "Got a party to get to, but Happy Hootd!"

"Happy Hootd!" the entire table called back.

Maybe it was the season or the sense of security that came with living in the capital, or maybe it was just the cold making everyone kinder, but this sort of brotherly love attitude wasn't something he encountered much in the outposts, except maybe Caem. Places like Hammerhead and Cauthess always had a kind of blanket of edgy restlessness because they could be attacked at any second, and everyone always had to be on guard.

Prompto wondered how Hootd had become all about lights and noise when it was pretty obvious if the lights weren't strong enough, silence and darkness were the best way to ward off the daemons. The scourge having been dormant for so long might've had something to do with people getting it wrong or choosing to rebel over the centuries, he guessed, not to mention that EXINERIS had always provided the outlands with strong enough lighting. But looking down the cliff to the Pegglar Outlook District and seeing the silent, empty streets from this distance, he knew that the Niflians had a more real history with daemons. For them, Hootd was a season of fear, of keeping quiet on the longest night of the year.

No matter how people were choosing to spend this evening, they'd be all right as long as the power stayed on.

His ears just barely caught the upbeat melody of guitars floating on the air, so he turned the corner and followed another street back down, idly searching for the sound. He'd almost made it to the main thoroughfare when he found them—strumming and clapping and stomping their way through the longest night so far in the history of Eos. He stayed out of the way, snapping pictures and enjoying the feeling of moving his body to the beat of something again. But his heart wasn't in it, so he left them all to dancing and strumming against the dark to check on things at the power plant.

Cause he knew too well that all that happiness could be taken away in a heartbeat.

There was a party going down on the bridge to the power plant too—what looked like every EXINERIS employee and their families packed into the ginormous space so tightly that he had to squeeze his way past more than once to get inside the now brightly-lit plant and up the stairs to Holly's office.

He knew damn well she wouldn't be taking the day off just because it was Hootd, so he wasn't surprised to find her at her desk, gazing out the window that overlooked the entire plant as Cindy sliced into a chocolate cake to put on plates for her and Cid.

"Hey! There's one of my favorite Hunters!" Holly exclaimed, and he beamed back at the nickname.

"Hey! Thought I'd stop by and check on things."

"Aww, well ain't you a sweetheart?" Cindy laughed, placing a slice on a plate and handing it to Cid behind her. "Always lendin' a hand."

"Good thinkin', son. Day like this is the perfect time to catch us with our britches down," Cid said with a nod of approval.

"You wanna stay fer some cake?" Cindy asked, her hand going to the knife on Holly's desk, but Prompto shook his head.

"I better not. Still got Iggy and Laura's party to go to, and don't you?"

"Yeah, we're leavin' here in a bit. Wanted to spend some time with Holly here first," Cindy said.

"You're not coming? I thought Laura invited you."

Holly's expression scrunched together like she was trying to remember something. "I kinda remember one of you boys offering, but I gotta stay here and hold things down at the fort."

"Okay, well, I just wanted to check in, let you know I was gonna take a circuit of the place before heading out," Prompto replied, backing toward the door and grinning. "Happy Hootd!"

"Thanks for the extra hand! If you run into any trouble, just yell. Added some extra girls on security tonight just in case. Happy Hootd!"

He walked in silence along the suspended metal platform that encircled the power plant in a maze of spirals and stairs, but he stopped and cheerfully greeted each and every EXINERIS girl he came across, asking if they'd seen anything out of the ordinary this evening. They hadn't, and the normalcy was starting to make his fingers itch a little. When had he forgotten how to relax and have a good time? He was supposed to be Prompto Argentum—party animal.

He was grateful for the fresh, cold night air when he finally stepped back outside. The thermoelectric incinerators not only put off waves of stifling heat he wasn't dressed for dealing with, but the smell of burning meteor clung to the suffocating, humid atmosphere so that he could almost taste it when he breathed in. As he unzipped the coat Laura had given him to get some circulation going and took long, cleansing breaths, he wondered how the hell any of those EXINERIS workers ever got used to the temperature and smell.

From the power plant, he strolled along the main thoroughfare, past the noisy shindig that was probably mostly made up of Surgate's people, and toward the front road. He didn't turn his head to the right for one particular block because he didn't think he could stomach the sight of the last place she'd been alive.

His steps grew shorter and quicker as he turned onto the main road, the chill of the night definitely not stopping him from taking the long way to the Council's front door—because nothing ever would. Now that he'd entered the government district closer to the outskirts, it'd grown quiet enough that he could hear his steps on the pavement and cold enough that he could see his breath billowing out from his mouth like a cloud each time he exhaled.

The memory of him and Noct pretending to smoke on the days it'd been cold enough back in Insomnia rose up in his mind like a corpse in the Alstor Slough, but he shoved the thought away.

He was jogging by the time he'd reached the old Cotton Alley factory, even if he had no idea what he was running away from, but the air freezing his lungs with every gasping breath reminded him that he was alive, gods damn it, and he wasn't gonna give up no matter what. Even over the slapping of his feet on the pavement, he could hear laughter coming from inside the building as he passed, and he bet he was close enough that Laura could feel him out here, silently freaking out over . . . what, exactly?

As he turned down the street that led around the back of the building, he hoped she wouldn't come out here. He always wanted—needed—to be alone for this.

Prompto stepped under the corrugated tin overhang that had been built along the back wall of the training facility, averting his eyes away from the first four of the twenty glass cases that had been installed underneath the long row of barred, half-moon windows. Stepping around the dried flowers and half-melted candles and barely registering the near-solid surface of paper curling at the edges, his heart pounded a little in his throat at the idea of accidentally catching sight of someone he recognized. What if he found a photo of some long-forgotten person he'd once sat next to in high school? What if the guy that had served them burgers at the food cart outside the Coernix Station was up there? It was hard enough coming here to visit people he already knew were dead without running into those he hadn't known about, so he didn't let his eyes focus on the glass kept clean by the constant parade of volunteers until he had reached his one little corner of the fifth case, eye level.

He never could resist saying hello to her when he was in town, but then he'd always have to say goodbye.

And there she was. He'd taken that picture of her leaning against her truck and posing with his quicksilver the night of their very first date, which had been kinda shitty, since it'd only been a quick dinner at Takka's before they both had to get back to work, but that was the night his life had changed forever. Her rich brown curls had been catching the light from the floodlights that night, only making her smile that much brighter. But Six, what kinda person was he that he was starting to forget the exact sound of her laugh? That he couldn't remember exactly what she'd been wearing that evening she'd led him to his tiny apartment next to the chocobo shed behind the diner, sat him down on his own bed, and kissed him until he'd about died from the pleasure? Even the image of her biting her lip when she came was starting to grow a little hazy in his head.

"Hey girl," he said thickly, his stupid voice trembling with the effort of holding back everything he was feeling in that moment. "Thought I'd stop by and wish you a Happy Hootd." He placed his hand on the glass over her image and let his voice drop along with his head. "I'm tryin' to move on like you said, but it's kinda hard, ya know?"

He exchanged his hand for the top of his head as he stared down at his boots. "Looking on the bright side, I guess you showed me it was possible for someone to love me like that, but . . .."

Delilah. It'd taken him a while, but he was finally experienced enough with girls to have an idea when one was interested in him. He liked hanging out with her even more than Cindy these days; it wasn't often he could find a girl willing to join in his rants about the Assassin's Creed collab getting pulled from his favorite RPG before he could get the medjay assassin's robes for his characters. Most people just pointed out that things like videogames were ancient history without getting that he was just trying to keep some sense of normalcy, but she always understood.

But getting involved with her, letting her in deeper . . . he didn't know. The worst that could've happened to him had happened, and he lived through it, but he wasn't exactly enthusiastic about living through all that again. The experience had been ten thousand cactuar needles' worth more terrible than dying himself. And the fact that part of him was glad she was a Glaive so she'd be less likely to get infected had to be some kinda sign he wasn't ready to move on, right? How sick of a thought was that, anyway?

He wouldn't even be doing this weird in-between dating thing they were doing if it weren't for that day on the bridge, when she'd thoroughly kicked his ass, stood over him with that disarming smirk and green eyes so dark they were nearly black, and told him right then and there that she expected a rematch the next time they were in the same place.

He'd been honest with her when she'd started getting flirty, so she at least understood why he was being a dickwad. But then she and some of the other Glaives had had their memories restored, and she seemed to need comforting even more than he did now.

As he stood there with his bare forehead pressed tightly against the glass thinking about the girl that wasn't in the photo he was standing in front of, an intense, bluish light shined through his eyelids, growing bright enough that he knew exactly who had interrupted his moment. He'd been expecting this, so he merely let out a tired sigh before turning to face whichever king he'd pleased because of what he'd done in Galdin.

Like a sigil had really been the reason he'd done it.

" **Prompto Argentum."**

"Um . . . hi—uh, Your Majesty," he stuttered, just remembering to fold himself into a bow.

He never recognized these old kings by the wacky battle armor they wore, and this guy with his long curtains of heavy fabric and chainmail was no exception. His helm was tiny compared to the rest of his body, kind of reminding Prompto of a duck's head set onto Gladio's body, with the curling wings of Angelgard rising up on either side of his neck.

He tried not to let the thought pass through his head, but he wondered if this king had died in battle because he couldn't see a gods damn thing on either side of him. Living in a war zone was starting to make him think of weird little things like that.

But recognition dawned over Prompto when the old king raised his trident high in the air—Luna's trident, so this must've been the Oracle King.

" **Child of Man, you have grieved for the souls of those you have lost, for the souls you have yet to lose. The time has come to take up their banner and carry the battle in their name."**

The soul he had yet to lose was the very scenario he'd been trying not to think about every time the topic of Penelope came up, but he still had time before it would be Noct's turn. Iggy was still working on things, so he shoved the Lucii's certainty aside for the time being.

So this visit obviously wasn't about Galdin, but he didn't get how his thing with Penelope was . . . oracley enough to warrant a visit from the Oracle King—or even his business at all—so he asked.

" **As I took up the staff of my Oracle upon her death, so too, must the Sword-Sworn take up the staff of those who would fight against the darkness and carry on, for the darkness in one's soul can conquer even the brightest of the Warriors of Light."**

"Oh, okay. Thanks," he said, dipping into another bow, even if he still didn't think it was any of this guy's business whether he moved on or not.

" **Then take my sigil, Child of Man."**

Prompto held out his hand and waited until the light from the Old King's spectral image faded away before he looked down at the sigil—that same ornately carved silver shield as the rest of them, but with an inlaid golden image of a sylleblossom on it. He dismissed it to his armiger without a second thought, intending to ask one of the Glaives later just what the hell it was supposed to do. As he approached the front door to the Council building, he wondered if Delilah was already waiting for him, since she'd been staying in the bunk room attached to the training center.

That was the shitty thing about being an amnesiac Glaive, he'd realized when he'd started spending time with her. She had no one to stay with when she visited outposts, no friends besides the Guardians she'd gotten to know since the Fall, and no family. People in the streets would always go quiet when she and the others passed, even though she and her fellow Glaives had done a literal fuckton for people since then. Even Iggy acted kinda weird in the rare cases he was around them.

Thankfully, Bahamut hadn't restored their memories of what they'd all done on the day of the Fall. He thought he could forgive Delilah for whatever she'd done in the name of her home, but it would've felt like a betrayal to Noct's dad to do it, especially with his own crazy origins and already questionable loyalties.

"Prompto," Laura breathed when she'd opened the door before he could. Even though it'd only been like, twenty hours since he'd last seen her, she pulled him into her arms and squeezed him like she hadn't seen him in years. "Happy Hootd, babe."

"Yeah, you too," he replied, and she pulled back to lead him by the hand to the training room.

"How're you feeling?"

She was giving him that side eye, and really, he knew she was only bothering to ask to be polite because she knew exactly how he was feeling, but hey, fake it till you make it, right?

"Awesome!" he exclaimed. "And you?"

But he had to stop and gape like an idiot when the door to the training room opened to reveal what she'd done with the place.

Things had been pretty scary for those first few years—with the power outage, rescuing all the stranded people, and everyone in Lucis hating Iggy and his government—so Hootd season had been all about him and Cindy sharing a ration in the middle of a circle of lights in the garage as the generators roared in the background. Even now in this time of relative prosperity, stuff like gift giving was pretty rare and had more to do with precious commodities for staying alive than the kinda stuff he used to get as a kid. A pulse bow that shot out ten thousand kilowatts of electricity was gonna do way more to keep Delilah alive than anything else he could've gotten her, but it made him feel kinda bad that his gift hadn't been more fun, like the zoom lens she'd somehow managed to find for his camera.

But the live trees, twinkling lights, bright draping fabric covering up the depressing white brick, soft instrumental music that seemed to come from nowhere, the food, the groups of people talking with their laughter echoing off the walls—it all combined into a whirling tornado of color and sound that made him realize he'd grown used to bare and quiet. This swank room filled with people was almost too much for him now. When had the King of the Arcade become an oversensitive wimp?

In the center of the room—made so much larger by Laura folding back the walls to the two practice rooms—sat the long wooden table that the Council of the United Nations of Eos used for their meetings, covered in more food than Prompto had seen in one place since the ball in Altissia.

"You all right?" Laura asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm good," he said softly. Searching for a reason to escape her standing there _knowing_ everything about him, he pointed to Gutsco sitting alone near the end of the table. "Gonna see if he's seen Delilah." Without waiting for her response, he rushed over and plopped down on the empty seat next to him.

"Hey! Happy Hootd, buddy!" Prompto greeted, slapping him on the shoulder like they were friends, because he seemed kinda like a lonely guy. And it wasn't like Prompto wasn't aware of his reputation.

Prompto remembered what it felt like to be him.

"You too!" he said with a smile. He side-eyed a silver dish of scalloped potatoes before turning to toss Prompto a quick, awkward wink. "Delilah isn't here. Wanted to make an appearance at a Guardian party before she came back. You check your texts?"

"Oh, no," he said, pulling out his phone, but he hadn't gotten any new messages. "Got used to not checking since reception's still kinda weird around Hammerhead and Caem. She hardly ever texts cause of that. Why didn't you go to the Guardian thing?"

"Oh, um . . . I didn't feel like it," he said shiftily before leaning in close and lowering his voice. "I uh . . . kinda dunno what I'm doing here. Think I got invited by mistake, but I don't got anywhere else, so I figured—free grub, ya know?"

Laughter bubbled over from the other end of the table, where Talcott had just opened a new set of plunderers and was leaping up to hug Cid and Cindy. Prompto had already given him his gift last night—one of Delilah's old crossbows that he'd upgraded a little—and he knew Iggy and Laura planned on giving him a box of all different kinds of poisons.

Weirdest Hootd ever for a twelve-year-old kid, but he guessed those were the times they were living in nowadays.

"Nah, you totally belong here!" Prompto said, turning back to Gutsco. "I asked Iggy and Laura myself if you could come. They said they'd love to have you."

Gutsco's eyes widened a fraction before he ducked his head, wisps of his long brown hair falling out of his spiracorn tail.

"I remember now, thinkin' I was pretty good back in Galahd. Guess Delilah was always tryin' to look out for me. But I'm not stupid, no matter what people say. I'm outta shape and not really good in a fight. _Everyone_ here is like . . . a living legend."

It was Prompto's turn to be surprised as he took in Gutsco's words. _Everyone_ a living legend, even him? To be honest, he still kinda saw himself in Gutsco's position, on the fringes, not good at much . . . even the overweight thing if they were including when he was a kid. But it was true he'd been to hell and back with the gang, and he'd found his happy spot between training the war chocobos with Laura and Wiz and handling the tech and machinery with Cid and Cindy. Well, as happy as he could get, anyway.

Maybe that was Gutsco's problem—finding his happy spot.

"Well, what's your weapon?" Prompto asked, wondering if he could maybe help him out with some equipment or something.

"Magic mostly, but I use whatever I'm in the mood for—shuriken, mace, katana, polearm . . .."

"Well there's your problem!" Prompto laughed. "You can't be good at all the weapons. You gotta choose one, maybe two!"

"I'm beginning to believe our weapons specialists need additional training," Cor interrupted as he took a seat across from Prompto. "They'd allowed King Venetus to use a rapier, of all things, for years."

Prompto felt two hands settle on his shoulders and squeeze, and he looked up to see Trina beaming down at him. "Prompto!"

"Happy Hootd, Tr—Your Majesty," he said, correcting himself and hoping Gutsco hadn't noticed how he'd almost called the Queen of Tenebrae by her first name, but then again, she'd always been pretty familiar with him. Was it okay for him to call her Trina in public? He didn't really know the rules.

"Cor," she greeted with a wide smile as she took a seat next to King Venetus. "Happy Hootd."

"Fortunately," Venetus said, frowning over at Cor, "I wasn't in a position where the oversight could have gotten me killed. It's quite another matter for a Guardian to be inappropriately matched. See to it that this ceases to become an issue, General."

"I'll make it my first priority tomorrow, Majesty."

"I'd also like to see about setting up some sort of screening procedure for the general population regarding magic."

"Oh?"

"We've operated in a world for so long that relied on House Caelum's access to the Crystal that we've forgotten that Niflheim must be able to wield the power to some extent to create their Magitek, and in the same vein, Solheim before them."

"Venetus and I have gone all our lives without knowing we could access the Crystal without the King," Trina added. "How could such a thing have happened?"

"I knew about your spiritual magic, but I didn't realize His Majesty also displayed an aptitude," Cor remarked, leaning forward in his chair.

"I can cast some faint fire and healing spells, but nothing with the potency of the Glaive or Duke Scientia," Venetus added.

Iggy sat at the end of the table, nodding in greeting to everyone before he said, "Even I am beginning to learn to access my magic without the aid of my bond through the King, though my spells are far less powerful. It seems as though society has come to rely on House Caelum for its connection to the Crystal and by extension, magic itself. I wonder why?"

Prompto was waiting for him to continue when Iggy's eyes darted up to a point above Prompto's head, and he turned to see Laura standing behind him with a serious look on her face. He frowned back at her. The exchange lasted no more than half a second, definitely not long enough for anyone at the table to be weirded out by it.

Then Laura said, "It's probably because technological advancements had reached a point where it could accomplish the same things as magic but without the hassle of extensive training and human error. Then people relied more and more on the houses that could create magic without the Crystal and tie other people to the Crystal for stronger magic. Why go back to the old way when the new way is easier and more powerful? Why even test the population for independent Crystal users when it isn't necessary?"

"Was this what you studied in school, Your Grace?" Trina asked. "I thought you were a doctor."

Prompto was starting to get a little antsy glancing down at the empty seat next to him, so as Laura waved a vague hand in the air and said, "Ohhh, I'm a bit of a polymath," he stood and quietly asked Gutsco to save both their chairs. He threw a quick wave to Dustin and Monica as they took their seats next to Iris and Talcott and had almost made it to the open door that led to the Council building when Laura's voice right behind him stopped him in his tracks.

"You're not going far, are you? We're going to eat the second Delilah, Gladio, and Aranea get here."

"Nah, just wanna look down the street to see if Delilah's almost here. Maybe send her a text. Sania not coming?"

"She hasn't been by Myrlwood for a while now, and I couldn't pin her down in one location long enough to invite her." She took a step closer, searching his eyes. "Really. How are you doing?"

This was why he didn't wanna make a big deal out of inviting Delilah; it'd been so much easier to figure out his own mess of thoughts and feelings and move on when everyone wasn't watching him so closely. This DNA thing wasn't exactly helping, either. He'd donate as much blood as Laura wanted him to if it meant finding a cure, but he kinda didn't want to know about how him being born in a test tube was gonna affect him for the rest of his life. Who knew what kinda weirdness would come back to bite him in the ass because of that? As it was, he already knew far too much about his own future for his liking; it was bad enough inspecting his hairline every morning.

"I'm good . . . really!" he added when she twisted her lips doubtfully at him. Because as he looked around at the glowing room filled with food and laughter—and all the people actually wanting him there—he figured he was really one lucky son of a gun, surrounded by more people who cared about him than he'd ever had back home. His parents might've been dead and not who they'd said they were, and his creator might've been a psycho. His first real girlfriend might've been dead, but he had a family for the first time in his life.

That was the kinda thing he definitely wanted to keep with him forever.

"Lemme go see what's taking her so long, and then I'll come back and get some shots of everyone, kay?"

A funny kind of smile crossed her lips as she tilted her head. "All right, and could you usher Gladio and Aranea in here when you go out there?"

"Uhh, yeah. No prob."

But he found out nearly immediately the reason for that smirk on Laura's face and why her request was gonna be more difficult than walking into the room and telling them to hurry it up. As he passed through the open doorway between the thick brick walls and the dull roar of the party lowered to a murmur, he heard Gladio's voice, higher pitched and whinier than usual.

"Come on, real quick. No one would notice."

"You're nuts if you think you're gonna talk me into this. I'm hungry," Aranea said in a low tone that sounded to Prompto like she was kinda pissed. He squinted into the dim room, lit by the streetlights coming in through the half-glass front doors, and he could just make out the silhouette of her spiracorn tails pulled back, swinging back and forth as she shoved at Gladio's shoulder. "Besides, maybe I'm less into quick ones these days as a full-grown woman. Maybe I prefer long ones."

"Mmm, I got a long one for ya right here, baby. Just come on upstairs with me."

A part of Prompto really wanted to interrupt, because if they found him standing here listening, he wasn't sure which one of them would end up decapitating him first. But there was something sickly fascinating with the way Gladio worked—like he knew for sure Aranea wasn't gonna hand his balls to him on a platter for talking to her like that. He knew for a fact that Gladio was still trying to get into the pants of every woman he came across, including Sania, so what made him think Aranea would be cool with him playing her?

"Call me 'baby' again, and I'll rip your balls off."

Prompto had to cover his mouth and remind himself just how scary Aranea could be to keep from snorting with laughter, but Gladio answered, "Come on, show me how you work a lance. You're the best I know, and you know it."

He could hear the smirk in her voice as she replied, "You could probably stand to be taught a lesson or two in using your own . . .."

Prompto had just enough time to register a soft step from behind him as Iggy's smooth, calm tone interrupted. "Unfortunately, the training room isn't available for lancework at the moment, given the Hootd celebration, and the only facilities available upstairs would be my office. I daresay my desk is hardly appropriate for sparring. Won't you join the others instead?"

On Iggy's first word, the two shadows that had merged into one snapped apart so quickly they looked like they'd been hit with a thunder spell.

"Uh . . . yeah. Sorry, Ig," Gladio muttered as he smoothed the hair he had half tied back.

It seemed like Aranea didn't have anything to add, and neither made eye contact as the two of them shuffled past into the larger room. Would they really have ended up having sex on Iggy's desk if someone hadn't interrupted? Talk about living on the edge.

Prompto thought Iggy was going to turn and follow them back to the party, but he bowed his head a little instead, gesturing with an open hand toward the front door of the administration building.

"I believe you were going to send Miss Delilah a text."

"Oh yeah," he said as he fumbled to pull out his phone and headed toward the door. As he pushed the lock button, a missed text flashed across the screen.

 _Warping my way there! Sorry running late._

"Yeah, she's on her way. Sorry about her being late."

"Dinner will keep, and it's good to be reassured that all is well," he replied smoothly, but the way he crossed his arms and fixed Prompto with a penetrating stare made Prompto feel a little like he was on trial for his choice in friends. He knew one of Iggy's biggest things besides cleanliness was punctuality, and he was already weird about amnesiac Glaives. He wanted Iggy, Laura, and Gladio to approve of Delilah—probably more than he should, but there was pretty much no worse way for her to start off on a bad foot with Iggy than running late for something.

"Yeah, it's really great you guys got everyone together like this. All this . . . family stuff—it's a good reminder, ya know? Sometimes it can get sort of isolated out in Hammerhead and Caem."

"No man is an island. We all need reminding now and then of what we fight so relentlessly to keep."

"That's our Iggy," he chuckled. "Spreadin' the love."

"Love in all its forms is vital to the survival of mankind. It's part of what makes us human," Iggy said, not meeting Prompto's eyes as he stared out the glass panes of the front door to the lit-up street outside. "But it's also important to remember that though love enriches our lives and can inspire us to become better people, it doesn't necessarily have to define who we are."

Prompto had missed when the philosophical debate had started on love, but Iggy's words and Prompto's sudden, instinctual reaction to them brought a sudden, sharp moment of clarity that laid the path in front of him suddenly open and easy to decipher. Even though he knew he wasn't gonna be able to match any kinda philosophy Iggy could come up with, he did happen to have an opinion on this one.

"Maybe it does for me. And maybe that's okay."

Iggy still didn't look over at him as a single eyebrow arched above the frame of his glasses. "I suppose . . . to each his own." After a second, he narrowed his eyes, squinting out into the street. "Is it . . . snowing?"

Prompto followed his gaze to see fat, white flakes falling intermittently here and there among the black backdrop of the sky, turning amber as they caught the light of the streetlamp and flurrying their way to the ground. Had he been in Insomnia, the sight would've made him ecstatic. He and Noct might've rushed out to his balcony to catch a few and examine them. But things had changed since then, and the sight of snow kinda made him sick now.

"Yeah, looks that way," he said in a low voice.

He jumped when Iggy suddenly barked out a laugh—full and joyous in a way Prompto definitely wouldn't've expected to come from him with his eyes still heavy from too many restless nights.

"Uhh . . . you okay there?" he asked.

Iggy's laughter slowly trailed off as he bent his head to wipe his eye from underneath his glasses. But as he looked over to meet Prompto's gaze, they were bright green and glittering. "Apologies. It's just that I've never had the opportunity to enjoy the snow. We'll all have to go for a walk at some point this evening—a life adventure with the lot of us."

"Hey Iggy?"

Iggy sobered immediately at Prompto's tone. "Yes?"

"You got any news on saving Noct yet?"

His smile fell away, and even though Prompto hated being responsible for yanking away his second of joy, he really needed to know. "No."

"Oh. Is there anything we can do to help?"

Iggy let out a long sigh, running a bare hand up into his hair to smooth out his pompadour. "You can assist by continuing to help the people, as they are our top priority. As I've told you all before, I can only leave when things are running smoothly."

"How many tombs you got left?"

"Five."

"Well, it's only been five years, right? So we got time? How much longer until Noct wakes up, do ya think?"

"I don't know. We don't know," he said, a rumbling growl of frustration hinted in his tone, and Prompto grew silent, wishing he could've brought this up on another day.

Through the shimmering curtain of falling snow, Prompto spotted a moving patch of white in the distance, growing larger the longer he watched.

"That's her," he said, pointing to Delilah's signature white Galahdian Glaive coat.

Iggy nodded and turned back toward the party. "Then I'll allow you to greet her in private."

"Thanks, Ig. And hey, Happy Hootd."

"And to you," he replied.

Iggy let out another long, slow breath as he strode to the back door. Before he passed through the doorway and into the blast of sound, Prompto thought he heard Iggy chuckle bitterly.

"Halfway out of the dark, indeed."


	91. Chapter 91

**Author's Note:**

Warning: NSFW. Also sparring while angry, but not at each other.

* * *

There were no prickling points of light emanating from the bright yellow house attached to theirs, nor from the cerulean blue house behind, so there was no one home to hear the pounding bass she could feel vibrating through the basement up to the street above. Still, Laura was wary at what could have upset Ignis so badly that he should indulge in his increasingly frequent habit of blasting metal and beating the will to live out of the punching bag they kept down there.

The heavy, electric beat and the screeching vocals floating up the stairs paired with his seething dark thoughts threatened to drown out her own staggering despair and helplessness when she opened the front door, and she debated for a second whether she had the energy to handle this right now or if she should just collapse on the couch and sleep as she hadn't for the last week. She tentatively reached out to stroke the wall they both always kept between them these days, sending him her concern, but the barrier remained rigid and unyielding.

He'd been doing this just before she came to Lestallum lately, as though purging himself of everything that had been eating him alive in the last four months so it wouldn't pollute their time together. She couldn't blame him for the practice, as she'd adopted a similar, if less violent, habit of wandering into the tiny slice of Myrlwood she'd converted years back and meditating until she was ready to make the journey and face him. But this—they'd been blocking each other out far too much lately in the name of protecting one another.

He wasn't expecting her home for another three or four hours, and she didn't alert him to her presence as she slowly took off her boots, socks, and the jacket Iris had made as part of her new Crownsguard-style uniform, which left her barefoot in tight-fitting jeans and white collared button-down. She paused for a moment with her hand on the heavy brass doorknob, taking a slow, deep breath in preparation for facing him when she knew he'd rather be left alone to exorcise his more 'disgraceful inclinations.' Tonight was _supposed_ to have been a romantic evening—with her cooking him a special dinner in celebration of her being home for an entire week.

Their damp, rock-walled basement was dark and claustrophobic, despite its high-beamed ceiling. Because he'd dispensed with turning on the overhead light, he'd be using his Intuition to make up for his blinded sight and deafened hearing as he let himself go on the bag that hung from a massive old crossbeam. Laura didn't know if he could sense her as she silently sat on the edge of the top step and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees so that she could watch him work. He didn't acknowledge her presence, which would be completely unlike him if he was aware. But the fact that she was unsure was likely a sign they'd let things slip too far.

His labored breath had nothing to do with exertion as he stared down his bulky opponent, his bare feet padding against the mat as he slowly circled the bag. He suddenly flung an arm out, his fingers spread wide, and cast the spell that would send a web of sparkling blue to push the bag away from him and set it to swinging. He timed the swing as he shot forward, leaping into the air, throwing his feet above his head, and twisting into a flip—one, two, three—before meeting the bag just as its arc reached him.

 _Smack._

She couldn't decide if it was the sound of the top of his foot slapping against fake leather or the savage grunt of exertion he allowed to pass between his clenched teeth that was more erotic, but either way, she couldn't help that surge of pride and heat for just how far he'd come over the years.

His long body bent as he fell backwards onto his hands, retreating only to warp forward, squeezing himself into time and reappearing effortlessly without a blade for a reference point. He sprang forward once again to strike the bag before planting the landing in a strong, wide stance. Even in the weak illumination from the nightlight in the corner, Laura could see that the fever dancing over his skin had broken free in amber-lit beads of sweat rolling off his brow, dripping down his face and chest to soak the light grey t-shirt he wore.

But she was close enough now to read him visually and passively, to see for herself that self-loathing, resentment, and failure twisting his elegant features into a bare-toothed snarl. For how much of these past four months had he been a twenty-nine-year-old man with the weight of the world on his shoulders while she'd been allowing him to push her away? None of them knew for certain how long they had until Noct woke up, but they were running out of time and certainly running out of options. Almost eight years it had been since he'd disappeared into the Crystal, and all their explorations had yielded scant information that had done little in helping them come up with a cure for the Starscourge or avert Noct's fate.

Most of what they'd accomplished had really been Ignis—risking his life and limbs delving into those crumbling Solheimian ruins and flinging himself across dimensions with this universe's Jack Harkness, of all people. Most of her practical discoveries had been inspired by that journal as she'd attempted to sort myth from fact. Redefining what divinity was and wasn't had become a daily part of her struggle as she tried to determine just how much power Eos had held. If she'd really been responsible for life on this planet, did that make her a god? Still no, in her mind—no more than a mother was.

The fruitless endeavors they had undertaken since she'd awoken had mostly centered around the tombs of the Old Kings. They should have known better than to search for information in the old tombs when the Caelum line had wanted to take the secret to their grave. Any attempts to ask during those sigil ceremonies had been completely ignored, and Regis . . . while he hadn't yet made an appearance since his death, Laura tended to doubt he'd be offering any more information than he had when he was alive. There was just too much he'd neglected while he'd been King and hadn't told any of them about—the assassination attempt from a mysterious Royal Armiger user before Noct was born, the assassination attempt with the marilith when Noct had been a child, the lack of research done on the 'disappearing disease,' the festering resentment and racism between Insomnians and outlanders he'd allowed to flourish, Noct's upbringing, _Ignis's_ upbringing. Hell, she was beginning to wonder if Aulea's death hadn't been an assassination, for as little as anyone ever spoke of her.

She'd _thought_ she'd been asked to take this journey because Noct needed protection from his own allies, but it unsettled her that she wasn't certain whether he had been including himself on that list. It had seemed a simple matter to side with the kingdom that had been on the defensive for hundreds of years. But the more she learned . . . Laura and Regis might not have been able to do anything to stop Insomnia's invasion by the time she'd arrived, but he certainly could have prevented much of this years beforehand.

House Caelum had likely been responsible for the people forgetting that they were capable of accessing the Crystal's magic on their own, as well, allowing a superstitious aura to build around the kings and magic in general until people like Kimya became ostracized. Thanks to their actions, magic would likely die out with Noct if the thousand or so people left on this planet didn't have children with their capabilities. And even if the rare practice of magehood was somehow able to continue, magic would be far weaker on this world without the King acting as a magnifying glass to the Crystal.

The more she learned about the Caelum line and the details of their rule, the less she trusted them, but it wasn't as though her own reign were above reproach.

"You're mine!" Ignis growled as he sent a volley of punishing fists into the bag, and the sound of his voice hoarse with anger brought her back to the present—and what was most important in this moment.

This heartache was her fault. No matter how many times they'd discussed it, he just didn't fully understand that the work she was doing held a terrifying depth that could end them all if she wasn't careful how she went about it. And still, she was failing him—as a wife for not addressing this increasing distance between them sooner, as a researcher for not solving this faster, as the more powerful of the two of them who should have been able to handle the responsibility of a species after all she'd been through. After so many millennia, she would've thought she'd have learned from her mistakes, but she was floundering with this human race much as she had with her own people. This was far too similar to that final week seven thousand years ago, only now, her husband's planet was dying more slowly, each life slipping through her fingers as she did her best to grasp them tighter.

When he couldn't muster enough energy to hurl himself at the bag anymore and wrapped his arms around it to slow its swinging arcs, she stood and silently drifted down the stairs to come up behind him.

 _And what about me?_ she asked.

She had a second of wordless warning before he whirled on her, crouching to sweep a leg out in an attempt to knock her off her feet. She leapt lightly over it without a thought. This was how he wanted to clear the air between them? That was just fine with her. He wasn't the only one feeling bound.

 _Come on,_ she taunted as she bounced on her toes and took several hopping steps backwards. _Don't hold back. Come at me._

The muscles in his ribs and arms twitched in preparation to throw his left fist toward her face, but his entire body jerked as he hesitated.

 _Are you certain? I feel . . . this feels . . . wrong._

They'd never sparred angry before, and even if their fury and frustration wasn't directed at each other, she could understand his reticence at the idea of attempting to hit a woman in anger. _Under any other circumstance, I'd say it would certainly be suspect, but I have no intention of letting you hit me. Just let go. You're not the only one that's feeling like this._

She didn't give him the benefit of a warning as she threw a punch towards his jaw. He swiveled to avoid her flung fist, but she had to adjust the trajectory by a hair to keep from grazing his chin with her knuckles.

 _And it looks like you could use the practice,_ she added lightly.

"Don't toy with me, woman," he murmured, and if she'd been human, she might not have heard his growl over the music beating against her skull. "Not today."

The tension in his limbs and mind were holding him back as they moved together, slowing him down so that she more than once had to stop or pivot so as not to hit him. He was faster than this—they both knew it. No matter how much she wanted to work out her frustrations in a decent spar, he was refusing to fling himself against her with his heart full of rage. His stubborn ass wasn't going to shut his mind off and release the full measure of his strength and speed on her, so she decided to settle them both down a bit and lead them to more familiar territory. She took a step back and began to weave back and forth in the familiar pattern of the capoeiristas she'd taken him to see in São Paulo, and the rigidity of his posture relaxed somewhat the moment he'd recognized what she was doing.

No dance in their repertoire was more suited for sparring than capoeira—its ruthless flipping, kicking, and contorting in perfect coordination with one's partner ideal for releasing this feeling crawling its way up both their throats. Honestly, it was basically the identical concept as their version of sparring, but if it had to be packaged as such for his sometimes infuriatingly courteous mind to rationalize it, then so be it.

Using the momentum she'd gained from weaving, Laura hurled her foot toward his head, twisting to knock him off his feet. The edge of her toe brushed delicately across his shoulder as he dropped to the side. But his dark eyes were already leading in the direction he intended to straighten himself, so she planted the left foot and flung her right, raising it to smack him lightly against his cheek.

"Relax," she barked. "Pay attention."

Ignis's expression fell into a scowl of concentration as he nodded once. Without a word, he fell. His hands hit the wood floor, his ribs rising and falling under his skin with each breath as he straightened his legs towards the ceiling. She stood at the ready as he took several deep, cleansing breaths.

 _Let me in,_ she pleaded to the wall between them. _Please?_

He didn't comply as he let go, twisting his feet around to send them flying towards her, and it was only then that they began to dance. They were a seething storm together—extremities transforming into projectiles as they contorted into cyclones of movement and writhed together as one.

 _Let go of your center,_ she instructed as he attempted to bend and sling his foot in a 360-degree arc around him. _Use your right leg as the pivot, the left foot as the counterweight._

 _Yes,_ he said softly, and the slightest loosening of his mind like a scab on their bond almost brought tears to her eyes.

She tossed her leg toward his head and followed up with a fist. He countered with a sideswiping aerial cartwheel in perfect synchronization with her as she folded like a tree in hurricane. Leap and twist midair. Kick and tumble. Duck and thrust forward; bend and flip backward. Attack and retreat; give and take. The aggressive beat pounded painfully in her ears, accompanying the demons swimming in her head. She was minutely conscious of every shift of air around his body, his every intention with the movement of his eyes and muscles.

The music stunted his awareness and slowed him down somewhat, but she didn't concede as she twisted in a spiral of legs and feet in a half-hearted effort to knock him to his back. He sprang forward, clapping a hand around her neck and attempting to push her to the ground, but she surrendered to the momentum, curling beneath his touch as she ducked and skipped back a few steps. Sweat poured from his lank hair and into his glaring eyes. A flush of heat creeped down his neck.

Something about this was working, however, as the tension in his mind wriggled and eased with the increasingly satisfying fire she could feel burning his abs with each aerial maneuver and every grunt pulled from heaving his body around their basement. She retreated from him as his movements grew more frantic. He advanced, a flash of irritation at her acquiescence bolting through her chest in response.

He allowed his hips to roll sensuously as he stalked forward, backing her into a corner as his hands shot forward to grasp hers and entwine their fingers.

 _Yes_ , she breathed, staring up into those burning green eyes staring down at her, her chest brushing his with every heaving breath. His hold on her hands tightened to pin them against the smooth rock behind her head. His hips tilted forward to press his entire length against her. But his pupils were still dilated in fear, their bond still tainted with guilt. He wasn't ready to break yet, and since he wanted precisely the samething she did, she didn't see any harm in commanding him, _Do it._

He flashed forward to take her lips savagely between his teeth. But she met him halfway, scraping the edges of her teeth against his lips as he pulled her tongue into his mouth to bite.

 _Rose_ , he choked when he tore his mouth from hers, and he _finally_ dropped his every barrier to show her what he was feeling. _I'm . . . failing._

What could she possibly say in response to the dizzying onslaught he was feeding her? What could she possibly do to ease his burdens? For all that they all saw her as the ancient, powerful being, she was just as lost and drowning as the rest of them.

The failures with Noct that she'd expected to hear weren't his only issue. The Council had been debating back and forth for days whether they should outlaw abortion with the human population continuing to die out like a spent candle. Attacks from wild animals driven mad and two more vicious outbreaks of the scourge she hadn't yet found a cure for had reduced the number that haunted his whiteboard to a mere 564,732 souls left in their care.

To make matters worse, the Eosian Science Institute was having trouble assembling a staff to process the ingredients from Myrlwood necessary in making the euthanasia compound for Quarantine. As it stood, they both already despised the need for the practice. Each death represented a failure on both their heads. But oh, god, what if they had to begin resorting to Somnus's methods and rely on a more brutal form of sterilization?

There were also quiet, rumbling calls for democracy stirring among the populace because they didn't believe in the prophecy of the King, not that she could blame them. Even if the Guardians supported him, it wasn't as though they could go to war against the people on his behalf. The part of Ignis that wouldn't be deeply shamed would be secretly relieved at not having to be the one in charge, but what chance would this planet have with someone else at the helm? How could Ignis face Noct when he returned having lost control of his kingdom?

Their previously stimulating academic debates had soured as of late, transforming into deliberations on ethical dilemmas that had very real and immediate consequences for his world, and of course, she'd had to maintain a careful subjectivity so as not to influence him or any other Council members, stating cold facts and nothing more. Perhaps that was when he'd begun to retreat from her—to hide his frustration at her lack of a clear answer.

And there was still Ardyn to take into account. Who the hell knew what he was up to these days?

 _Please, Ignis,_ she said, shoving him away just long enough to tear his soaking shirt from his body and throw it into the corner with a wet slap. When he returned to press himself against her, he grazed his palms over her breasts deceptively gently as he waited for her to speak again. _I need . . . we need . . .._

 _Yes,_ he agreed, moving to fumble at the buttons on her shirt with uncharacteristically clumsy fingers.

She dragged her nails across his chest, over his pebbled nipples, and down to his twitching abs, forcing a shudder through him as he finally worked her top off—perhaps scattering a button or two across the wood floor and exercise pad in the process. They crashed together again, tongues dueling, hands groping and grabbing to squeeze any flesh they could reach.

She could hear him asking himself what was the matter with him as he bent to take the tip of her left breast into his mouth, wondering where the balance he'd been working so hard to achieve had flown off to. But she was right there beside him with her hands buried in his wet hair—desperate, out of control, helpless to everything they were feeling.

Her belt nearly ripped in two as he yanked it open, but she spared him the work of peeling her out of her jeans by stepping on the cuffs and wrenching both layers of clothing down to her ankles. By the time he'd kicked his sweatpants to the side, she was ready for him, leaping up onto his hips as he wrapped his arms around her. He spun them around and fell backwards on the mat beneath the bag, pulling her on top of him.

She curled her fingers into his hair as he moved from her mouth to her shoulder—nipping and scraping just barely to the edge of delicious pain, but never so hard as to mark her skin. Always, she'd done the same for him—setting his nerves to singing when they were in their more carnal moods, but never enough to bring back unpleasant memories of his youth.

It was her turn to pin him down this time as she skimmed her nails up his forearms and grasped his wrists, and he tipped his head back to allow her teeth better access to his throat. Bloody hell, she could finally feel him—that same savage madness and desire to fuck—feeding her and making her breathless and desperate. Her body had grown slick as she slid back and forth along the length of him, slipping over his sheen of sweat, a bodily function she definitely didn't miss about being human, but god damn it, it was him and she didn't care.

"No. You're mine," she panted, nibbling at his neck when he struggled against her hold to roll them over and take charge.

"Rose," he growled, thrusting up roughly just as she slid down on him, ramming himself sharply in to the root.

Pain blossomed from her center at the sudden intrusion of his girth, and he froze when she released a small whimper of surprise into his left ear.

 _Are you all right?_ he asked, extricating his hand from her hold to cradle her neck.

She closed her eyes and sent him a wordless affirmation, and he leaned up to press small, apologetic kisses to the side of her mouth. Truthfully, it hadn't hurt _that_ much, but their lack of coordination was a sharp reminder of how out of sync they'd been lately.

He wouldn't be able to hear her over the still screaming music, so she moved her lips to his ear and whispered, "I'm fine."

 _I'm so sorry._

 _It's all right. Lie back and feel me._

Even though he let his head fall back to thud against the pad as she'd directed, his eyes remained large and shimmering with repentance in the low light as she slowly rose and fell on him.

Hoping to find home in their connection, she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his, feeling for her thread in his mind and reaching for it, using it as an anchor to pull them closer, to dive deep into his frightened psyche and do her best to deliver some comfort.

 _Forget with me,_ she murmured, inhaling aloud when his fingers had found her sex to supplement the sensation of him filling her. _Forget just for a moment._

 _Yes,_ he whispered as he mirrored her actions, pulling on his thread and soothing those vicious black streaks of stress that had been pulsing against her skull for ages now. Gold and burgundy were interlacing tightly on their bridge, warm and apologetic for ever having shut each other out, even to protect one another. Their minds finally resonating on the same frequency, she could feel him unclench beneath her as they found solace in each other's mindscapes.

 _I'm here for you,_ he added, searching her face as he soothed a palm across her temple and down her cheek. _Please don't shut me out anymore._

He let his free hand roam unchecked as she coiled around him, his body gliding against hers in smooth, slippery strokes. The shiver that rippled over her skin as he skimmed the very tip of his middle finger where her breast met her ribs sent an identical chill through him, and he suddenly pulled both hands away to grasp her shoulders and yank her flush against him, restricting her movement. He curled his hips upward in response to her grinding down, seeking that secret spot deep inside her and adding telepathic fingers to her swollen sex simply because he wasn't willing to let her go.

Wishing she could turn off the music that had grown far too incongruous to this intensive expression of comfort, she tucked her face into the juncture between his shoulder and neck, closing her eyes and nestling into their bond.

 _I'm sorry_ , she gasped as one of his hands skimmed down to find the flare of her hip, a gentle yet insistent thumb grazing back and forth along the bone. _I'm not handling things as well as I should be._

 _It's all right,_ he answered. A bead of sweat dripped from the tip of a lock of hair and rolled down the bulge of his jawbone, centimeters from her face. The pressure on the back of her neck increased until her lips were pressed to it, his salt and distinct male flavor invading her mouth. She could barely move. But they'd found the precise combination of grinding rhythm and angle and supplementary touch that would satisfy them as they rocked against each other.

He felt stiff and heavy, perhaps on the edge of being on the edge at any moment, and that shiver had grown constant across her nerves as she involuntarily gasped every time his head pressed just right inside her.

 _Let go, Rose,_ he urged with delicate lips across her cheekbone as her telltale trembling around him intensified. _I'm right here with you._

She cried out, her breast swelling against his chest from her following sharp intake of breath as the wave overtook her. He released his vicelike grip on her hip and shoulder as she went rigid, allowing her to move freely to draw out their pleasure. But that first rush of his warm and wet release into her compelled her to bear down on him with a bite to his shoulder

 _I'm sorry_ , he said when they'd both gone slack. _I've been so wrapped up in my own nonsense that I've neglected to acknowledge your struggle._

She bent to press her lips to the spot just below his ear, running her free hand through his hair and up to his jaw. _I didn't want to add to your already ridiculous burden. Are you all right?_ she asked, pushing back so she could meet his eyes.

He rolled them over carefully and gently pulled himself out before drawing himself up on his knees. _I feel bloody disgusting,_ he said with a grimace, gesturing to the sticky plastic mat and his skin covered in drying sweat and fluid.

 _You've gotten spoiled— all those times in the shower when I'm away or in the comfort of our bed when I'm in town,_ she said as she sat up. Of course, those stolen moments when they were finally in the same place at the same time weren't _always_ routine.

Almost eight years they'd been together now, and they'd chased after every aspect of enjoying one another's bodies that piqued his curiosity. It had been a thrilling experience to discover what he enjoyed, since he was willing to try almost anything at least once. He'd learned he didn't care for 'extraneous distractions' during sex for the most part—restraints and devices and all the games humans felt the need to add in this expression of the most secret corners of one's soul. She wasn't surprised to learn he preferred the act to be much as he preferred most things in life—simple yet beautiful, though perhaps sometimes with a touch of the luxurious or frenzied fervor.

He'd once told her he hadn't expected to be so profoundly moved by the act of physical pleasure at all, so he'd been surprised to discover that he had a weakness for when she would do herself up in beautiful things. She, in turn, would always be weak to him being a bit more feral and aggressive. But these were never performances; they expressed with their bodies what they felt in their soul—no strutting necessary, no deciding who would be dominant and who submissive until organic to the situation.

 _Really though, are you all right?_ she asked again.

 _Your pleasure brings me calm,_ he answered, which he had to know wouldn't satisfy her. He reached over to _finally_ turn off the music that no longer reflected this inexplicable tranquility that had settled over them despite the issues that still plagued them. _Honestly, I am as well as I can be given the current circumstances._ _At the very least, I can be of some help to you._

She rolled to her feet and bent to gather their clothes as he pulled on his sweatpants and straightened the glasses that had slipped too low on his nose.

"I may be able to help you, too. I've been thinking of every line we've investigated . . . and there's one left we never did."

He didn't stop on the stairs as she followed up behind him, no doubt too eager to leap into the shower to slow down for a moment. "Oh?"

"I'm not sure we ever found exactly whatever Ravus wanted us to find in the library."

"We searched the Imperial Library thoroughly, and we did find several useful tidbits of information," he pointed out.

"What we found wasn't significant enough to justify a man's dying words. There was something personal about that message."

When he opened the door that led to the kitchen and stepped into the cooler, drafty air, she could see the goosebumps pebbling down his back and arms as he stopped and turned to her, furrowing his brow in thought. "A message, perhaps, as revenge against the man that had killed him?" he mused. "We could hardly expect to find something personal in a public library, but then . . . to which library do you suppose he was referring?"

She ushered him towards the second set of stairs with flapping hands, urging him to move before he got too chilled. "The problem is that we've been looking in places that belong to family lines that had something to protect. And since I doubt Ardyn would keep any evidence against himself in a library, that leaves us with—"

"The Fleurets. Fenestala?"

"Maybe?"

"It's a high risk to travel across the seas in these times, particularly as our reception would be met with naught but abandoned cities and daemons."

"I think we've run out of options. At least I'll be able to go with you this time."

He stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs, his mind still and silent. Without turning around, he said in a low tone, "No, you can't."

"Don't you dare think I'm letting you go alone after Steyliff. Ignis, you could've died."

"I won't be going alone, but I need you to stay here and take care of matters on the home front," he said as he stepped off the stairs and into their bedroom.

She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off as he spun to face her. "We're running out of time, so the time for taking some _reasonable_ risk is nigh," he explained in that pedantic, slightly condescending tone she knew he couldn't help but still irritated her nevertheless. "But one of us needs to stay behind and keep an eye on things, and we both know it would be better for you to continue your work."

Damn him and his stupid logic sometimes. "You'll take the rest of the team, at least?"

"Of course. I'll arrange a trip as soon as everyone's schedule allows." His step faltered as his feet hit the cool blue and gold tiles of the bathroom floor. He turned to face her again, his expression softened as he stared down intently at her. "You've been on the verge of a breakthrough for some time now."

"Only to discovering what it _is_ , exactly, and how it works, not even an inkling as to a cure yet," she said, summoning their favorite bubble bath as he turned to the clawfoot tub and started the water running.

"I realize I've only minimally been involved in your work, but why don't you explain it to me?" he suggested. "Perhaps the mere act of talking it over will help."

"I don't want to add to your burdens, love."

He casually dropped his sweatpants to the floor before picking them up and placing them in the hamper. Even after all these years, he still had the physique of a wildcat—long, lean muscles that rolled sensuously beneath his skin as he obliviously bent to run his fingers under the deluge to check the temperature and add the soap she'd handed him.

"You've eased my mind considerably simply by giving me a next step in my search. Kindly allow me to do the same for you, if I'm able." He pulled himself straight suddenly when he realized the view he was presenting her with, a flush of pink creeping over his high cheekbones in a way she'd thought he'd long outgrown. But she smiled gently and stepped up close, soothing her warmed hands over his cold and somewhat sticky collarbones down to his broad chest.

"All right," she said softly, sending him a wave of admiration as her fingers danced lightly down to his squared-off hip bones. Jerking her head toward the tub of warm, space-colored water covered in a layer of white foam, she added, "Get in first."

Ignis stepped in and sat carefully against the back of the tub, spreading his knees wide and gesturing for her to sit between them. The peppermint, citrus, and cedarwood curled up from the bubbles to hang heavy on the humid air and fill the small room. She removed the clip from her hair and climbed in after him, sighing when she felt his fingers stroking the strands from root to tip, from her scalp to where the ends hit the surface of the water and began to float away.

"Talk," he commanded gently, reaching around to grasp her chin and tilt her head back as he poured a cup of water down her back. "You've identified the individual elements of the scourge to which the Solheimian scientist was referring?"

"Yes. From the looks of things, it's made up of _Plasmodium malariae_ , rabies, and that oily black liquid."

"The Voidmatter whose replica we found in Pitioss," he confirmed, and she nodded as he poured another cup of water over her hair. "It's a pity the meteor that fell on the Archaean is no longer available for testing."

"It doesn't matter; none of the elements on their own have any transformative properties, just as the scientist said. But I would have liked to have seen some in a clean state for another reason. Sorry, but I'm a bit anti-religious, and I'm not buying our building blocks of all life theory. Pitioss was supposed to be a play, a representation, not a literal recounting."

"Why rabies, do you suppose? Given the erratic behavior of the infected, it stands to reason. But in the terms of using the virus to control the gods?"

"My guess is that they needed Eos to survive more easily down there in the dark. Between the Voidmatter and the photophobia from the rabies . . .."

He was quiet for several moments, the soothing sound of water splashing and his mind racing with prickling thoughts the center of her world. When he spoke again, his voice was like delicate shards of glass as he asked softly, "Why didn't you succumb? Why did Eos die and not you?"

"I was in better shape than Eos, for starters. Telepathic shielding, non-Eosian nucleotides, and the Time Lord healing coma all saved my life." She debated whether she should add this last part, but finally decided he likely already knew. "But it was a close thing."

Knees clenched at her hips as he asked, "Are you immune now that you've recovered? Could you possibly possess anti-bodies?"

She squeezed his thighs in return. "No. I could still contract the scourge, same as you. And as far as anti-bodies go . . . our physiology is too different for me to create a vaccine, but don't think I haven't studied myself thoroughly in trying to figure this out. And . . . rabies, Ignis. When I was born on Earth, people still died from rabies if they didn't get a vaccine before showing symptoms."

"And we're having issues mustering enough people as it is to make the euthanasia compound for Quarantine, so even if you were somehow able to create a vaccine . . .."

"I'm sorry," she said in a low voice. "I won't give up, but it's looking more and more like this can't be cured by medical means at your civilization's current level of technology. Which means magic—and the prophecy."

"All right, so the malaria," he said immediately, dismissing her last words as unacceptable. "Because both Dr. Yeagre and Besithia identified plasmodium as part of the scourge, I assume this Mr. Brutus was unsuccessful in 'handling' it?"

"Actually, that's not true. The full virus contains the plasmodium bacteria—along with a synthetic T-cell. That T-cell is supposed to neutralize malarial infection on contraction, and since none of the infected present with any symptoms or evidence of malaria beyond the incubation period, Brutus was obviously successful."

Ignis's hand paused over the bottle of her kithairon shampoo. "You instructed me to tell Dr. Yeagre back in Altissia to look into viruses that affected T-cells."

"I did," she confirmed, closing her eyes and resisting the urge to lean back into his chest as he began digging his sudsy fingertips into her scalp. Tugging on their bond, she pulled him into the memory—less realistic while he was awake, but enough for him to hear the conversation.

 _Data's pearlescent skin shimmered subtly in the gentle, white light emanating from the table surface. Laura imagined that the effect was supposed to be romantic, but romance would never be on his mind even if they spent ten thousand years together, and that was okay. He might claim not to have any emotions, but that wonder he experienced every time they arrived at a new planet and that unquenchable thirst for knowledge always reminded her of James, always helped her to experience that joy again. They might not ever have a passionate love affair, but a life partner was more than enough for her._

" _It is not only the Federation crew members who have experienced the more perilous aspects of exploring deep space," he was saying in that cool monotone that always relaxed her after a near-death experience. "The_ Enterprise's _many civilian crew members have also fallen victim to the many dangers we encounter. Exactly three hundred and seventeen standard galactic days, four hours, twenty-seven minutes, and thirty-five seconds before you arrived on the_ Enterprise _, all organic life forms on board were infected with a virus that affected T-cells in the body, utilizing the patient's immune system to transform each of them into a different creature from his or her species' genetic pool. And then there was the time the children with the highest intelligence quotient were abducted . . ."_

She pulled him out of the memory with another sigh as Ignis curled his fingers to scratch at her scalp before spreading the shampoo to the tips of her hair in long, gentle tugs.

"He certainly was the loquacious sort," he noted mildly, but she could feel his undercurrent of pity at the memory. "But it can't be a coincidence that the scourge itself contains an engineered T-cell and there was a virus on the Enterprise that affected the crew's T-cells in a manner similar to the scourge."

"No, I suspect it isn't, particularly because an infected patient is flooded with those T-cells, but that could just be because it's working against the malaria and replicating."

"Have you no way of determining what causes the change?"

"I'm sorry, Ignis," she sighed, leaning forward rub her face with both hands until her skin tingled. "I told you I wasn't an epidemiologist, virologist, or geneticist. I know basic medicine, and that's it. I have no idea how a T-cell can affect the entire genetic makeup of a person, and I'm having to reinvent virology here to find out, since that quack Besithia obviously didn't know what he was talking about." She snorted a little, shaking her head. "I can't believe he attributed all this to _malaria,_ of all things. At least Sania has the excuse of being a biologist."

The scent of kithairon and fresh Arkhein needles had long ago overtaken the peppermint of the water, but it was only once they'd grown quiet for a moment that Ignis reached for the cup to begin rinsing her hair free of suds.

"I thought you said Besithia knew something to alter Prompto's DNA. Did you discover anything about the scourge's contraction from our blood samples that Solheim hadn't already?"

Laura tilted her head back as he poured another cup over her hair.

"Well, not just from blood samples, but also from Sania's data collection. Now that Luna's magic is weakening in the world, anyone previously healed by her has already changed, as far as we know. And it seems like those with low levels of serotonin and norepinephrine and high cortisol levels are also more susceptible . . . so, more of a coincidence than Besithia actually knowing anything."

"Those prone to hopelessness and despair," Ignis interrupted. "Our Oracle is dead. Our King is missing. The nights grow longer, so of _course_ the spread of infection is speeding up as the people lose hope."

"That's at least something you can work with to help the people—boost morale and immunity at the same time."

"Perhaps hope could be a vaccine of its own," he mused. "I could speak to Vyv about creating a campaign to make this information publicly available and combat the issue at its root. But are you certain? It seems as though more people we know would have succumbed by now."

She caught his hidden reference immediately and turned to give him a look. "Crystal servants have a higher degree of immunity, so the retinue is protected by the Power of Life and Light."

"That would explain why the Glaives are holding up despite their hardships," he noted mildly.

Turning beneath his hands rubbing her shoulders, she leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the lips before getting up on her knees to reach for the shelf for his shampoo. "Enough—I'll figure it out. Now, I was thinking of making us spinach lasagna for dinner this evening . . . unless you wanted something else?"

He frowned as he scooted forward, preparing for her to wet his hair. "Would you mind if we broke tradition just this once and allowed me to cook this evening? I came up with a new recipe the other day that I'd like you to try."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, her lips twitching up into a slight smile at the light kindling in his eyes. "Tell me about it."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

The ideas I've pulled together as my basis for the starscourge are mine, OS's from the FFXV subreddit Discord, and the Star Trek Episode "Genesis."


	92. Chapter 92

The first and last time Ignis had flown an aircraft in reality had been with a cargo hold full of Niflian refugees fastened to the walls on either side of the Regalia as Laura, Biggs, Wedge, and Aranea flew in formation ahead of him. At first, he'd been somewhat concerned at the high stakes combined with the unfamiliar controls, especially with Gladio glowering at him from the copilot's seat, but after a quick review, he found that flying truly was as simple as power, pitch, yaw, roll, and instinct. He would never, however, consider himself skilled on Aranea's level until he had the opportunity to practice in the real world far more than he had, which was why his eyes were pulled tight and his hands were gripping the yoke as he landed two hundred tons of screaming metal onto a small patch of dead grass in the pitch black. The three lives currently in the cargo hold were completely dependent on his memory of the brief glimpse he'd gotten before he had switched off the landing lights and the craft's landing pads settling onto solid ground.

"Prepare yourselves for the likely event of an attack the moment we land," Ignis called back through the open door of the cockpit.

Due to the dearth of open land surrounding Fenestala, they'd had to land several layers below where they would likely need to be for any library Ravus had tried to direct them to, which would mean some distance to travel before they were inside. Their roaring engines screaming in for a landing after the entire continent had spent so long in silence was hardly what he would call a subtle entrance onto the deserted isle. Doubtless they would attract every daemon in the area. But the need for keeping the Magitek engine close by overrode the prudence of landing farther away, where the unpopulated areas meant there would be fewer daemons.

Needs must, so he lowered the landing pads with a resigned sort of reluctance.

The second he felt the jolt of the craft touching down in the little clearing, he immediately shut off the engine, skipping over the post-flight procedures, and slammed the protective metal windshield screen Cindy had installed across the glass, plunging the interior of the craft in pitch black as the faint green glow from the instruments slowly faded. As he stretched out his senses, he found it more difficult to detect that cloying, oily scent of scourge that seemed to cling to the back of his teeth from inside the thick shell of the aircraft, but it was certainly there. Perhaps twenty or so daemons to start, with more on their way if they weren't quiet.

 _A safe landing,_ he remarked, both to Laura and Eilendil, who was tucked safely away beneath his shirt. _Is everything all right there?_

Laura's relief flooded through him as she answered, _Your father and Weskham are discussing the possibility of bringing refugees over from Altissia in the next couple of years. They're starting to get wind that our living standards are better in Lucis. I'll review the meeting for you when you're asleep._

 _Very well. Keep me informed should it come to blows, if you please. I fear for the state of the city with that much stubbornness in one room._

 _Not like you could do anything from that far away besides fret._ She paused for a moment, mischievousness clouding their connection. _Perhaps I should really liven things up and invite Cid in on our discussions._

He unbuckled his restraint harness and swung his legs out to stand before making his way out of the cockpit, shutting the thick door behind him.

 _You wouldn't dare._

"Do . . . do you think we're okay?" came Iris's whisper from the far-left wall, from the direction of the table bolted to the bulkhead.

Ignis had opened his mouth to answer when an echoing metallic clang sounded from the wall just to his right—a small body, from the sound of the reverberation, likely of the goblin family, given that the region tended to be thickly populated with that particular species.

"Ignis, what do we do?" his mother asked from just next to Iris, her tone calm—that of a subordinate requesting orders.

"It's been a long journey," he said on a sigh. "We should eat and rest for now. They'll grow quiet after several hours. We can leave at daybreak, and with any luck, we won't encounter much resistance so we can enter before nightfall."

"Is it safe to turn on a light, do you think?" Talcott asked from the far-right corner.

"I've shut the door to the cockpit."

Ignis reached into Laura's Pocket, pulling out the stack of fried rookie on rice containers she'd prepared for this mission, just as Talcott flicked the switch that would illuminate the refurbished cargo hold. The four of them froze as the thuds against the hull increased to a continuous hammering, setting the floor to vibrating beneath his boots. Ignis scanned the small space—checking the thick, metal walls behind the bunks and table for soundness—while signaling for Talcott to do the same to the small lavatory in the far corner.

"This is totally worse than when we had to sleep in Dave's shack that one time on our way back from Keycatrich," Iris said with a soft smile when Talcott had finished his inspection and sat down next to her.

"Who will take first watch?" his mother asked.

Satisfied that all would hold through the long night, Ignis set a container on the small table in front of each of his team before taking a seat next to his mother.

 _I will keep watch, Ignis Scientia,_ Eilendil said before he could begin to work out a schedule. _I may not be able to see or hear, but I sense your daemons. I will know if one tries to enter._

 _Are you certain?_

 _Let him. He's there to help you,_ Laura added. _It's seven hours until the sun shines over there, right? That's a full night's rest for all of you._

 _Thank you,_ Ignis said as he turned to his mother. "That w—"

"Not you, dear," she interrupted, her denial barely audible over the reverberating impacts on the ship's hull. "You've been flying for hours now."

He shook his head and lifted the lid of the steam-filled container, sniffing to identify what exactly Laura had put in this dish. "A watch detail won't be necessary this time."

Talcott's eyes widened as they dropped to his collar. "Did Laura lend you her talisman again?"

"Yes. It's necessary for searching the contents of the library as quickly as possible."

And despite the sacrifice they'd had to endure for such a convenience, Ignis was grateful. Low bonded as they were, Laura and Eilendil were unable to contact each other across long distances without using Ignis's high bond as a relay. For the first time since meeting them, Ignis was privy to conversations he hadn't been an intended audience for, and he was dismayed to find that he wasn't quite as adept at telepathy as he'd hoped. After lifetimes spent communicating with each other at the speed of thought, and impressions flashed between them like lightning more often than the words and feelings he and Laura still shared. Ignis could only glean a small fraction of what passed over their bridge between them, but he got the sense that they missed their direct bond terribly, as though Laura didn't feel complete without Eilendil sleeping in the back of her head.

Eilendil's heart was also Laura's means of accessing her pocket universe, unlike Noct's armiger, which she could fully access through the Crystal. Fortunately, she'd added his Crownsguard pendant as an access point years ago when she discovered Ignis could reach into it on his own, but for as much as the skull pendant King Regis had given him years ago meant the world to him, he couldn't help but think the sight of it settling between her collar bones just hadn't suited her when they'd traded just before he'd left.

Trina stabbed at the fried egg draped across her rice as she frowned over at him. "Where did you say she studied magic again? Her spells are so peculiarly specific and unlike any I've seen."

"Her education is far too varied for me to list."

"That's just how Laura is though!" Iris laughed softly, but she recoiled at the protesting shriek of nails on metal near her head and grew even quieter. "I wish she could've come with us. We never get to see her anymore."

"Yeah," Talcott agreed, cutting into his yolk and mixing it into the rice. "She's the only one that'll let us spar with edges and not flats."

"Am I not considered an adequate partner any longer?" Ignis asked with an indignant sniff.

"No! It's just that . . . you're busy . . .."

 _Pfft. He likes shooting that crossbow at me, now that he's finally worked up the nerve,_ Laura said. _And no one else will let him do that._

 _With good reason._

"Eight years, you've been married, and still we hardly know a thing about her . . . or you," his mother sighed.

Ignis toyed idly with his rice, balancing a few grains on the tines of his fork before letting them fall back into the bowl. Looking up to meet her accusing glare, he smiled politely at her thinly-veiled attempt to con more information from his and Laura's pasts. It seemed she wouldn't cease digging for something personal until she found whatever it was she was looking for. Of course, he could hardly share much of the secret part of his and Laura's life. He took a moment to ponder precisely what sort of expression would cross her face if he were to calmly and nonchalantly tell her that his most passionate hobby was exploring time, space, and universes with his immortal alien wife.

 _That would be something,_ Laura said with a snort. _You know, I'm not averse to telling them._

 _I am. I've been placed in enough awkward conversations as it is over the years because too many people know too much about us._

 _Three people on the entire planet?_ She sighed wearily. _All right, I'll see what other normal stories I can scrounge up. As long as she doesn't ask where I was born. I hate lying to her, and I don't think she'd accept the Miriásia explanation as easily as you did. She's much more well-traveled than you were then. But you know she really only wants to hear about you._

Honestly, he'd told her all he could that was happy of his childhood—stories of his music lessons, sneaking out with Noct, playing board games and reading to Noct during his convalescence, and the adventures they'd found themselves in while on the road, but nothing seemed to satisfy her. For reasons he couldn't fathom, that furrow in her brow would deepen every time he mentioned Noct, and Laura's thoughts would grow faraway and melancholy in response, just as they were in this moment.

 _Are you_ _ **ever**_ _going to explain that?_

 _No._

When his mother realized he wasn't suddenly going to spill his life story for all to hear merely because she'd implied, her tone grew lighter. "I realize Laura's doing important work these days, but she's so infrequently in town long enough for us to get to know her. Why don't you both come over to dinner the next time she's in Lestallum? Perhaps I can coax some stories of you from _her_."

"I'll speak with her to see if a meal can be arranged," he answered. _Thank you_ , he added to Laura. _For being patient with them._

Because nothing made him feel more like a banal child than having the woman who had seen the very end of more than one universe sitting at a dinner table spooning at his mother's overly-dry mashed potatoes and fielding questions about where she was from or how she'd come to be a vegetarian.

 _You only have your parents for a short while,_ she said wistfully, an image of Jackie Tyler shimmering into existence between them, _and then they're gone forever_.

He sent her a brush of affection as he took a bite of his rice, more to have an excuse to no longer participate in the conversation with his mother than because he was hungry, but he was transported away the moment the flavors blossomed over his palate. Of course, he should have recognized that scent, even if he'd never smelled it here on Eos. The memory of tawny light streaming through wide gaps in worn, wooden boards in thick shafts replaced Jackie Tyler's image. He could taste the old wood mixing with the sweet, nutty, umami flavor as a Jirathan boy sifted vibrant red maramala through a woven grass basket to separate the warm, toasty spice from the hulls of their seed pods.

 _I thought you could use the reminder_ , Laura said affectionately, and a tender smile twitched at the corner of his lips of its own accord. _Even when you aren't here, I'm still holding your hand._

 _We won't' allow ourselves to lapse again,_ he said tenderly.

Eilendil's faint revulsion was beginning to pervade their connection when he swallowed and met his mother's eyes. Her brow was furrowed, her fork bouncing back and forth as a gesture toward her rice, and Ignis's attention shot toward Iris, who seemed to flawlessly take the hint from his wide-eyed stare and turned to Talcott.

"So Talcott, it's um . . . been a while since we all went raiding together. Which weapon are you gonna end up going with on this trip?" Iris asked.

Talcott glanced down to his bowl. "I can take both, but . . . I dunno. I sort of prefer the crossbow these days," he mumbled, his eyes darting furtively over to Ignis.

"One's choice of weapon is unique to each individual and should not be dictated by sentimentality," Ignis advised. "You must choose that which speaks most to you, as it will be your life in your hands in combat."

"Well-spoken," his mother agreed before looking to Iris. "Are you still using the durandal?"

She shrugged. "It makes the most sense to me. Holy light for the daemons, heavy enough to do some damage, light enough to carry and kick 'em in the face if I want."

"You're just lucky that wristband lets you use the armiger so you don't have to haul that thing around on missions," Talcott said. "I tried a one-handed sword for a while, and the scabbard just got in the way for me."

"It's not like I'd have to carry it often, even without the armiger," Iris mumbled, staring down at her lap.

Sensing some sensitivity of the fact that Cor was only just beginning to allow her to go on missions other than with Ignis, he turned the topic to something that might cheer her. "And your clothing stand? How goes sales?"

 _Oh, you didn't just . . .,_ Laura began, but she didn't finish her thought beyond the jagged lines of putrid green she was sending him.

 _What?_

He didn't see the issue. Ignis held a genuine interest in Iris's clothing designs, and asking about her work could only serve to lift her wilted spirits, certainly? But he got the sense that Laura was refusing to answer.

"I'd say pretty good considering she's never around," Talcott said, but he winced and stopped speaking when Iris shot him a glare and jerked toward him in a gesture Ignis could only assume was a kick under the table.

"How would you know? You're either gossiping with Guardians or studying with Trina. Anyway, I have meetings and stuff with donors and my fabric supplier, which is why I'm out a lot, but sales are going really well!" she gushed, her expression transforming into a bright smile instantly. Ignis's smug wave of satisfaction had just registered with Laura when Iris continued, "I've had a few people ask me about the Crownsguard design I made for Laura—the black jacket with all the angled zippers and buttons really seemed to catch people's eye—but don't worry! That design's exclusive to her."

"I've no doubt," he replied, but he noted the heavy bags under her eyes despite her bubbling animation. Everyone appeared exhausted to him these days. "She appreciates immensely your exclusion of skulls on all the hardware."

"I _have_ taken to making some iconic looks available to everyone though . . . like Aranea's old armor, maybe even my own outfit too, but they've been really popular!"

Swallowing a bite of the warm, runny egg yolk, he looked up at Iris's lively expression, still managing to shine regardless of the sound of slowly abating slams against the hull. Something about angle of the curve of her lip and sparkle in her weary brown eyes reminded him fondly of Gladio when he would get excited about having Cup Noodle for supper or finding the first hunt of the morning. Who would have thought those days on the road, bereft of their homes and families, could have also been considered 'the good old days'?

He fervently wished brighter times lay ahead for them that missions like these wouldn't eventually become the 'good old days' as well. In the meantime, the task was on them to find the joy in their work, even if it wasn't precisely what they wished to be doing.

"And do you find your Roen-inspired designs more or less popular than those modeled after your other influences?"

* * *

The frigid summer wind whipping through the confined streets of Fenestala made him shiver into his snow gear the second he'd dismissed his blades, in spite of his constant rigorous movement this 'morning.' Ignis pushed his visor further up on his nose with a finger, grateful for the additional eye protection after having nearly been hit in the face six times while dispatching hordes of alberichs and wraiths with the others. They'd only just managed to cut a path to the closest door of the manor's main building, but it seemed their two hours of daylight were up. One aspect of his new field eyewear that irritated him was the polarized tinting that made it even more difficult to see in the fading light, but he'd been fortunate to have gotten what he could in his prescription. He needed to protect his last traditional pair, and it wasn't as though anyone was manufacturing corrective lenses these days.

"Is everyone all right?" he asked softly when the final wraith had melted into the cobblestone at his feet.

"We're all okay," Talcott said with a nod.

"Very good, and excellent aim, Talcott," he replied, examining the darkening sky. "There's no guarantee the manor will be safe, but we need to hurry and get inside."

Fenestala was an anomaly as a seat of power. Completely isolated from the general populace at the highest geographical point of Tenebrae, it stood proudly on a series of narrow cliffs far from the humble, old-fashioned hamlets that dotted the rest of the country. The term 'city' as they'd called it in the past was technically a misnomer, as it was more of a pastoral abbey than a palace surrounded by citizens. The presence of noble houses, support staff, and their families had necessitated additional facilities, however, so the home to the Tenebraean royal family also included a few shops, a small school, and apartments situated among the lofty, tree-laden towers and narrow cobblestone streets leading up to the heart of the manor.

The beauty that had spoken to Ignis the last time they'd visited had grown wild and decrepit—the formerly lush plants having taken over the gold-trimmed flourishes outlining the window panes and ornately-decorated building facades before dying and icing over with the cold. Occasionally, his eyes would catch on the flash of carved, golden oak leaves edging the high columns and doorframes among the peeling white paint, or the dull blue of sylleblossoms on a dark stained-glass window set between neglected masonry. Brown tufts of moss were beginning to rot in patches on the once-vibrant Tenebraean blue shingles, further threatening the structural integrity of the roofs by holding moisture fast to the surface before they'd turned to frost.

It had been fortunate that his father hadn't insisted on joining them to see what had become of his beloved homeland. Even without the sense of responsibility innate to those who were born here, something about the slow decline of this once stunning country pained Ignis to see. This place reminded him of home, of Therinal and Lliaméra. When this long night was over, Ignis vowed he would assist both Noct and his father to see these bastions of human achievement and architectural accomplishment restored to their former glory.

His thoughts turned to memorizing the area for the likely event that it would be pitch black when they left. As they crept quietly along the narrow, walled street covered in ancient vaulted arches, their rubber-soled footsteps echoed dramatically off the masonry—at least to him—which would provide him with a rich picture of their surroundings come nightfall. Navigating by sound would be no issue for any of them in these enclosed, echoing spaces—even for his mother, who wasn't quite as skilled at finding her way in the dark as the other two. Trained from a young age by Dustin, Monica, the retinue, and the handful of sight-impaired Guardians based in Lestallum, Talcott and Iris had become two of the most sought-after Hunters of the Guardians, so their vast experience should be sufficient support as they made their way back down to the ship.

"The door leading to the royal apartments should be close, at the base of the tower up ahead," his mother whispered from just behind him, and he hummed in acknowledgement. "I'm not sure, though. It's been many years since I was last here."

"I understand," he whispered back, but he suspected her assessment was correct, as her instructions seemed to align with what Aranea had told them.

A few more steps proved her correct as they approached a recession in the light grey masonry, at the back of which stood a scallop-trimmed door. He signaled for the others to keep watch while he pulled out the heavy brass skeleton key Aranea had given him. The lock's mechanism was stiff enough that he'd had to use both hands to turn it, but the wooden door finally gave way with a groan of protest that made him wince. The four of them froze, not even breathing as they scanned the area and waited for the whisper or creak of a daemon cutting through the skin of the world. Try as he might, he couldn't sense any pools of seething black, but that wasn't always an indication that none would sneak up on them.

 _You've been lucky thus far,_ Laura noted, an edge of concern in her voice. _Please get inside before it gets too dark._

 _The domicile is not deserted,_ Eilendil said. _Their souls are stale, but they reside still within its walls._

 _Thank you for the assessment,_ he replied, reaching out with his less sensitive Intuition to feel what Eilendil was sensing, but he could detect no pockets of dark scourge; taste nothing but dusty, deserted air; hear nothing but the roaring silence that almost seemed to beat at his eardrums.

"This way," he added to the others, just barely above a whisper. "There should be a spiral staircase just up ahead. Be sure to close the door behind you, Talcott."

He soaked in every detail of the space as they crept upstairs and filed it away for their journey back. The hall leading to the central grand staircase was lined with towering windows spanned by columns decorated with swirling flourishes of gold leaf and Tenebraean blue. As they were led to the vaulted ceilings of the reception room, the winding white staircase drew his eye with its intricately carved handrail and glass railings. This palace must have seemed glorious in better days, when it was flooded with sunlight. The dead plants he could smell as they sat long-rotted in their corners would have been spilling over with lush greenery, filling the room with life and color. Princess Lunafreya would doubtless have kept numerous bouquets of sylleblossoms scattered throughout the manor, which might explain the ghost of floral scent that still seemed to haunt the air along with the lingering aroma of stale smoke from the fire damage to the uppermost floors.

Ignis's steps paused on the landing of the fourth floor of the winding staircase when Eilendil sent him a wordless signal, and he reached out to touch the seething pool of scourge ahead—just where he estimated they were supposed to be, of course.

They silently turned to the right, their footsteps now muffled by a dusty plush runner that spanned the long hall. It had grown dark enough now that he'd begun to rely solely on his extra senses, but if he squinted into the feeble light cast by the small window at the very end of the hall, he could just make out the shadow of the fourth door on the left, inlaid with mother of pearl and gold flourishes and Tenebraean oak leaves.

"Be prepared," he whispered as they cautiously drew closer to the pool of scourge. "There's a daemon guarding the door."

"Of course there is," Iris muttered.

It appeared as though they hadn't been silent enough in their approach, however. As they drew closer, the soft, shimmering light cast by the daemon as it ripped its way through the floor might as well have been a floodlight. Ignis could hear the others behind him pulling their weapons out as he waited to identify what it was they were facing before he chose his blade.

The daemon that rose and solidified before them was approximately two meters high—with long, spindly yet muscular legs that ended in vicious blue claws; sharp, sickle-like arms; and two curling horns extending high from its too-small head. Ignis wondered why this creature had been named after the platformed towers of ancient Mesopotamia on Earth—yet another out-of-place reference to a planet light years away from his own.

Though he had already identified the creature as a ziggurat, this uncharacteristic appearance above ground gave him pause. Its aberrant behavior would make it no less formidable or sadistic than those he'd encountered in the depths of caves he'd previously explored, but he thought it best to check, just in case. He lifted a finger to push his glasses up higher on his nose and breathed in a deep lungful of air.

 _Taste the life,_ he remembered from all those years ago, and he did. Ignis sent that air running through his lungs, through his blood, through the magic coursing through his entire being. He exhaled it through his pores in a cloud of gold, concentrating on the flavor lingering on his skin as he would a fine wine across his tongue. Light and electricity felt _right_ to balance the equation between them—the stabbing length of a polearm perfect to dodge its long, razor-sharp appendages.

As the others had no elemental skill or additional weapons to draw upon, he didn't need to dole out instructions beyond the strategy.

"Mother, with me," he muttered under his breath before the thing could gather its wits. "The two of you take it from this side. Talcott, watch the angle of your aim that you don't hit us." He ushered his mother to the other side of the doorway with a gentle touch to her elbow. "The scythes are long; I would recommend you attack only when its back is turned."

"Right," she said as she readied her daggers.

Ignis leapt forward, summoning his radiant lance just as Iris landed a blow across the creature's nearly non-existent neck. She landed on bended knee, swiping a leg out to kick the daemon off balance just as the tip of Ignis's spear pierced its chest. It threw its head back, roaring as it lashed out toward Ignis's ribs with wickedly sharp, bladed arms.

"Ignis!" his mother called out.

A flash of nostalgia shot through him as he phased in a haze of blue, entering the lifeless realm but not attempting to make a grab for time passing him by. With detached interest, he watched the bolts from Talcott's crossbow as they rippled through the air toward the ziggurat's back. He glanced down to see the daemon's razor-sharp appendage had passed through the space his body would occupy as it whirled for an attack on Iris and Talcott, so he let the magic go with the release of a breath.

 _I despise that sensation,_ Eilendil growled when they'd appeared in their realm once again.

Ignis stepped back to allow his mother room to lunge forward and bury both her blades on either side of the creature's spine.

 _Apologies, but needs must. Please—don't distract me right now._

"Excellent, Iris," he praised as she thrust her durandal up into the daemon's gut. Using the buried hilt as leverage, she flipped herself up over its head.

"Hyah!" With a vicious, fleshy yank, Iris withdrew the sword and slashed it across the ziggurat's neck before landing on both feet with a hard thud to the carpet. "No sweat," she said with a laugh.

He settled into his own form as the others worked, dancing along the currents of air kicked up by the daemon and his team, tasting that heavy scent of scourge in the atmosphere, listening intently to the dull scratching of claws on the carpet as their quarry dug in to steady itself before swiping at them. He countered the daemon's every move without thought, concentrating on swift strikes to the scythed arms and attempting to break them off to make their battle safer as Talcott aimed his fire on its trunk.

A burst of blue magic in his peripheral vision followed by a sudden rush of exhilaration made him glance over to his mother, who still had her hand spread wide, the power still fading from her fingertips.

"Thanks Trina!" Talcott beamed at her as he reloaded his crossbow.

Something tingled at Ignis's instinct as the ziggurat turned—the way the creature's muscles tensed as though gathering itself. They'd scattered in the battle, spreading out so that they weren't bunched together as easy targets for the daemon's vicious swipes. He didn't have the time to analyze in which direction the creature would leap; he knew before it had finished facing its intended direction.

"Mother!"

He summoned and launched a dagger at the ziggurat's head to buy himself some time before twisting out of this realm, but he'd been too slow. Someone else was already there with him, hurling herself toward his mother's frozen form. Iris and Ignis exchanged a glance as they drew closer to one another, wordlessly communicating the strategy.

They reappeared in the same moment—Iris to topple his mother to the ground and Ignis to dismiss his still-spinning blade and summon his radiant lance once again to his hands—just as their adversary lurched chest-first onto Ignis's upheld blade. The pole jerked in his hands from the weight of the creature settling itself deeper into the mythril tip fortified with holy light. But the burn in his forearms lessened as it lost its hold on corporeal form, dripping off his weapon and melting back into the floor to regather its strength.

Ignis stood for a moment in the sudden stillness—waiting.

Once he was positive that they hadn't awakened anything else in the manor, he realized that he could no longer see when he turned in a circle to check on everyone—the loss of daemonic light in the hallway and the sun having given up its fight for the day immersing them into darkness. Ignis closed his eyes and cocked his head, holding his breath so he could better make out three individual sets of elevated yet regular breaths.

"Is everyone all right?"

Two feminine hums of acknowledgement and an "Iris, what'd you _do_?" assured him that no one needed medical attention, at least. He dismissed his lance in a flash of silver psithurism and turned in Iris's direction for an explanation.

"Well?" he asked as he took his mother by the hand and helped her to her feet. "As far as I know, the power wristband your father gave you should be imbued with enough of the King's magic to possess an armiger, _not_ to warp."

"Oh, come _on_ ," she huffed as she got to her feet. "Haven't we been through enough together to know each other's secrets? You all know; stop pretending like you don't!"

"Know what, dear?" his mother asked.

"Seriously? The disappearing for hours or days at a time? The constant training? Why I didn't tell Cor to shove it when he told me 'no'?"

"What're you getting at, Iris?" Talcott asked.

In truth, Ignis hadn't paid much mind to Iris's day-to-day habits, and neither had Gladio, as far as he knew. Even Dustin and Monica were far too busy with their work with the Guardians to watch over them beyond ensuring Iris and Talcott kept up with their studies and training. They were both always punctual for their private lessons with him. As far as he knew, neither had missed their required or supplemental sessions with anyone, which he'd _thought_ explained her vast improvements these last few years.

Still, this was hardly an appropriate venue for a drawn-out confession.

"We hardly have the time for this now," Ignis said, striding to the door that Aranea's directions had indicated should be the library. "So either say what you mean to say or save it until we're safe."

"Ohmigods, I'm Kenny!" she exclaimed, somehow still managing to keep her voice low as Ignis opened the arched door with a creak. "Kenny the Glaive? After Laura brought me back from Caem, I got some help from the Rogue to supplement my wristband so I could warp. Had to sneak out to Old Lestallum to buy a costume from Johnny though, so everyone would think I was a dude and Gladdy wouldn't get suspicious."

"That was quite irresponsible of you," his mother chastised.

"Explains a lot, though," Talcott added.

"I'm really sorry I didn't tell you . . . especially you, Ignis," Iris said in a more subdued tone. "You've done so much for me, but I just wanted to help."

"We'll discuss this later. Shut the door behind you, and we can risk the night orbs," Ignis said as he stepped through the entryway into what sounded like a grand, circular room. The echo of his steps on the polished floor arced around them, growing softer before dying suddenly, letting him know they'd likely found the correct room lined with books along the outer walls.

When he heard the gentle clunk of the door shutting behind him, Ignis pulled out the small orb that Prompto had given each of them before leaving—an invention of his designed to provide a small circle of light that wouldn't bleach out the user's eyes. Ignis pressed the button at the top, and the gentle ember in his hand lit his face from below and cast a small glowing red halo in front of him.

The room was exactly as he'd imagined it—white marble flooring embellished with gold scrollwork, high windows with gold-patterned panes framed by wispy Tenebraean blue curtains, bouquets of dead and dried sylleblossoms collapsed across curvy vases, and dark wooden bookcases encased in glass and leafy carvings. The décor reminded him so strongly of Therinal that even Eilendil's and Laura's attention caught his flash of homesickness before he shoved it aside.

"Read the titles of all the books," Ignis said to the three red-lit faces standing nearby. "Pick up anything that may be of some use."

 _It's time,_ he added to Eilendil, opening his mind wide for the deeper connection. He felt the rough, slithery presence settle behind his eyes without a word, and Ignis began his search.

With the help of the dragon's memory, Ignis was able to scan the shelves instantly, allowing words and images to float over the surface of his thoughts without having to pause to read the spines in the dim light. Trusting in Eilendil's judgment of any books they would need or want, he progressed through the shelves quickly—opening the glass doors and placing a hand on several works to dismiss to Laura's Pocket. Books on gardening, Tenebraean cuisine, history, art, music, architecture, genealogy—all disappeared under his hand in so many flashes of silver that he felt as though he were standing in the middle of a lightning storm.

"Hey, found a book on the tomb of the Oracles," Talcott said softly.

"I thought Oracles disappeared when they died, like Lady Lunafreya," Iris said.

"We believe Her Highness disappeared when she died because she was Chosen to complete the prophecy with the King," his mother said. "Queen Sylva did not disappear and was likely buried in this tomb with the rest."

Ignis's hand paused over the door to the next glass case. "Did father not attend?"

"King Regis expected trouble. It was the first time the King and the Chosen Prince had left the Wall, after all. I'd remained in Lucis to spread rumors, but when the Empire invaded Tenebrae, it was your father's job to smuggle them through the country and to where the yacht was moved."

"I see. Keep that with you, Talcott," Ignis said as he opened the case and reached up to dismiss a book on Solheimian ruins across Tenebrae. "I should skim through it before we leave. We'll likely need to add more to our agenda."

 _Should I tell your father you'll be delayed a couple of days?_ Laura asked.

 _Yes. A source of historical information uncensored is too great an opportunity to miss. He likely didn't inform me of its existence because he didn't wish me visiting._

 _I think he thinks your efforts to learn more about the prophecy are a waste of time. It doesn't help you weren't entirely honest about your goals._

 _No,_ he answered shortly, though he doubted his father would support his efforts if he knew Ignis was attempting to defy the gods and save the Chosen King from his fate.

He heard Talcott heave a soft, frustrated sigh. "Lord Ravus said, 'She's in the library. Air is in the library.' Right? But what does it _mean_?"

"Well, air is definitely in the library, and everywhere else in this place," Iris added. "We can breathe just fine, but I don't think that's what he meant."

"You're setting aside every biography you come across, correct?" Ignis confirmed. "And anything that could be a reference to the Zephyrnian."

"Yes, but I'm not seeing anything really standing out," Talcott said doubtfully.

"Perhaps this isn't the library he was referring to," his mother said.

"I certainly hope it is," Ignis said as he passed to the next shelf. "It's no simple matter to come here." Though that wasn't the true reason for his wish. This was the last thread he had to investigate on Noct's behalf.

They searched in silence for a few minutes, with the other three placing books of interest on the table behind them for Ignis to dismiss later. Ignis had just dismissed a biography of Lady Ravus Magus Fleuret when Talcott's voice cut through the silence, laced with confusion.

"What? This can't be right."

"What is it?"

"Can you come and check to see if I'm translating this right?" Talcott asked. Ignis turned to spot his backlit silhouette staring up at a painting across the room. "I think this says that this lady was the First Oracle, but the Cosmogony shows King Somnus being blessed by the Messengers with a dark-haired Oracle by his side."

A shiver of premonition passed over Ignis's skin as he strode across the room to inspect whatever it was Talcott was reading. So far, Ignis and Laura had kept to themselves the details of Laura's vision of Noct killing Luna and a flash of Ardyn's face. Ardyn himself hadn't admitted to killing his Oracle, but if he had committed murder, then it would have been impossible for the Oracle by King Somnus's side to have been the first. She would've had to have been written out of history alongside Ardyn, for how else could her death have been explained away?

As he approached where Talcott's sphere of red light was cast up onto the wall, he was able to more closely inspect the ornate gilded frame and life-sized oil painting, faded with time but clearly recognizable as a young woman almost identical to Lady Lunafreya. She had short blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a long, white dress, and a geometrical gold headband whose design seemed almost Solheimian to Ignis. On the wall next to the frame hung a golden plate lined in sylleblossoms that read in etched circular Solheimian: THE FIRST ORACLE OF THE ROYAL HOUSE FLEURET.

 _That's it, Ignis,_ Laura whispered, her tone brimming with the infectious thrill of adventure and discovery. _I caught a flash of blonde hair the first time Ravus sent me the message._

 _Let me get a closer look._

Drawing nearer, Ignis raised the red orb of light higher so he could read the smaller print—the more familiar alphabet of informal Lucian or Tenebraean—on the gold plate at the bottom of the painting.

Aera Mirus Fleuret.

She's in the library. Air is in the library.

Aera's in the library.

"Talcott?" he queried softly, his eyes not leaving the painting. "Would you mind terribly handing me that book on the Oracle tomb?"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

The power wristband Iris uses in game was given to her by her father and imbued with the King's magic. I can only assume it was what allowed her to summon, as Nightyswolf pointed out to me that she summons moogles while in battle with you.

OS, once again, amazing person that she is, helped with extrapolating on the world building for Tenebrae based on what little we see in Brotherhood, the game, and KG.

To clarify, Iris is the AI Kenny, NOT the boss Kenny, who has so many powers he shouldn't, he has to be a Messenger or Ardyn himself.


	93. Chapter 93

**Author's Note:**

Warning: Canonical character death (though in non-canonical fashion)

* * *

The smallest fragment of what was left of his soul could perhaps admit it was a tad overdramatic to say that he walked in and among the darkness, but it was true. Long had his eyes had time to grow accustomed to the bristling black that resided behind his lids and soaked his corneas with every blink. As a result, this world that was fast becoming a reflection of his creation was a simple matter for him to navigate, for the corruption had become his dearest friend and guide, even on the blackest of nights.

It had also never lied.

Ardyn had long grown bored of toying with the little 'Guardians,' raising nests of scourge and watching them dance with the daemons they spawned while he chose which would be the next for him to consume and gather his strength. Even his most delightfully diverting activity when he found a spare moment—disguising himself as common townsfolk and meandering the sickeningly hopeful streets to sow dissention and spread vicious rumors—had become more tiresome than amusing. But these were merely distractions for the spare moments between seeking out his true goal—finding Solheim and exacting his vengeance.

Pitioss had been the key; he'd felt it. Ardyn had never wondered where it was the Infernian was always wandering off to since Ardyn had awoken him thirty years ago because the god's heart and soul belonged to him now. But upon learning that the mourning son had created a play to wallow in his grief! Such an opportunity to capitalize on misery ought not to be wasted.

But what he'd discovered there . . . oh, what he'd found . . ..

The story Pitioss told was inconsequential—for millennia had he known of his grandmother and the betrayal of the iniquitous Six. His only surprise had stemmed from the possible discovery of a Seventh, but he imagined Ifrit the Betrayer took great relish in placing the head of the Necronian on that barge as a primitive savage would place his rival's head on the end of a pike for all to see.

No, the true discovery had lain in Solheim's contribution. The Power of Eos had burned him alive as he stepped on switch after switch, and when he emerged from that farce of his father's birth, he could feel in his blood that he'd made some progress in locating those witless cowards. But checking all similar gates of which he had been aware—in Perpetouss, near Malmalam, and inside Costlemark—had yielded no fruit.

Perhaps he'd been more correct than he'd realized when he attempted to finesse an answer from the Advisor on the girl's whereabouts all those years ago. She seemed to have moved on to other projects since, based on the few times he'd followed her, but he'd ceased looking in on her and the children once he'd discovered just how accurately she could taste his essence on the air from a distance.

Besides, he didn't believe he could stomach how terribly . . . domestic their little love nest was.

Ardyn had heard a rumor or two of her resurfacing now and again since that day, but since he'd ceased attaching her name to vicious stories in town, information on her had been surprisingly lacking, as though she no longer existed. Perhaps when he returned from his final errand in Gralea, he would devote more of his attention to tracking her down and discovering what she had been up to all these years beyond undoing his efforts.

But first, this tour of his last, solitary link to the possible location of the children of Solheim.

He vaguely recalled visiting this place exactly twice in his life—once with Aera and once in that rather unfortunate incident when Niflian forces had cut down the Oracle in an attempt to capture the Lucian king and his Chosen son. But in coming here a third time, he hadn't expected to be presented with the delightful gift of company in this deserted continent of his playthings.

"What did my father know of this? Why didn't he tell me?" the Advisor demanded, his frustration evident even over the waterfall rushing over the rocks just ahead. Ardyn raised an eyebrow in curious thought. He hadn't paid any mind to the boy's origins while following them through Eos, as any effort beyond leading the little princeling to his end would have been dreadfully dull . . . until Haulhex Armory. But what little he'd had the time to glean so far was that the child had appeared from nowhere much as the girl had—the son of unknown, dead parents. He'd suspected . . . with the boy's similar appearance to Ifrit . . . but then he wondered who the elder Scientia might be and whether he were still alive.

"You know as well as I that the royal families kept their secrets—circular Solheimian one of them," an older woman of nobility answered. "Who besides another Fleuret would've known she was anything but one of a hundred of Her Highness's ancestors?"

What were they doing here, of all places, at a time like this? It couldn't merely be to admire what sounded like Aera's portrait in Fenestala. Researching his origins? If so, he had to begrudgingly acknowledge the Advisor's creativity to seek resources beyond those of the false Lucian kings. His brother may have been willing to leave behind puerile symbols as a reminder that their heritage bore with it both divinity and death, but Somnus would not, under any circumstances, renege on his word to erase him and his deeds from history. No information was to be found within their rotting sarcophagi, for certain—Ardyn had verified himself.

"This is where it all happened—Prince Ravus and Princess Lunafreya left behind the day Queen Sylva was killed," the woman said over the roar of rushing water, her voice muffled against the moist, moss-covered tree trunks.

"What were they doing here though?" a young boy asked. "I mean, Prince Noctis had already been healed by the Queen, right? They had been at the palace for a while at that point."

"I was under the impression it was a ceremony before they left—a reaffirmation of the link between House Caelum and House Flueret," the Advisor answered.

"And my dad was there, right?" Ahh, he believed he recognized the high-pitched shrieking that belonged to the daughter and sister of the Shields. "I saw him in the pictures standing just behind King Regis. Why didn't he protect them from General Glauca?"

Ardyn couldn't help but release the smallest of chuckles at the back of his throat at her innocent question. Perhaps it was true of all Shields of House Amicitia to fail in the most desperate of times. Such had certainly been true in his day. Such a shame for a virile line to prove over the generations that their failings ran blood-deep—brawn without talent.

"Quiet," the Advisor barked. "Do you feel that?"

"No. What is it?"

"I thought I felt . . .."

Ardyn tilted his head, squinting at the long, slender silhouette of the Advisor stood frozen at the base of the gushing waterfall with his own head tilted and eyes closed, as though he were listening for something. It wasn't possible that the child could have heard him from this distance standing next to the crashing water as he was. Then again, he shouldn't have been able to walk as freely as he had been in this darkness, either—leading his little band of followers through the black as though he were born for it.

When the intruders started forward again, Ardyn maintained a careful distance in case the child truly could sense his aura as the girl so clearly could. There was no discerning what he was capable of under the careful tutelage of that wife of his—and there was a curious thought. Weary though he'd grown of toying with humanity, the girl was still a rather enticing enigma to solve . . . and now the boy by extension. He may have determined that she was a parallel Eos—an anathema to this world—but he had yet the opportunity to take the full measure of what she was and what she was capable of. She was hardly a forthcoming creature, but perhaps he could find the opportunity this evening to prod at the Advisor to see what he could deduce of the goddess herself.

Just so long as he was careful not to jostle that molten silver and gold pool at the back of his head. With the Crystal safely tucked far away in Gralea, awaiting Ardyn and his remaining MTs to bring it to its final position to view the closing act of their little play, that ocean of magma and power had settled to a dull ache—somewhat irritating, but not specifically malevolent to his existence. Its dormancy could change without even a moment's notice, however, so he would need to proceed with caution.

Ardyn remained where he was, safe on his lofty perch on the far side of the roaring white water, as the four children left the river's rocky banks to scramble up the knotted mass of muddy, mossy tree roots hanging exposed at the base of a bone-white Tenebraean oak. The colossal tree had been ancient even when he had been taken here for his first and only trip to Tenebrae before all had fallen to despair.

The journey had been far more difficult in those days—clinging to the rigging of one of civilization's last cutter ships while attempting to keep ahold of one's lunch. He vaguely recalled the stirrings of excitement at seeing Aera for the first time—the Oracle recently gifted with the power to speak with the slumbering gods and wield her namesake with her gods-given trident. As the eldest member of House Izunia—no, Caelum—he was to have taken the eldest member of House Fleuret back to Duscae to assist them in determining whether Ardyn could answer the gods' demands and thus prove himself worthy to be the Crystal's Chosen King. He recalled the burning desire to explore this new continent, but also the need to get back, to begin healing the land and the people so he could begin a new civilization free of the shackles of Solheim's sins.

Oh, those foolish days of carefree youth—when he'd trusted his brother completely and taken the gods at their word. It had been for the best, he supposed, that they'd never intended him to marry his second cousin. He'd always possessed a certain fondness for the naïve brat; however, in retrospect, her death had been useful in a number of ways.

The Advisor and his acolytes reached the zenith of their climb and were making their way to the temple made of forest, where the clean, white tree trunks grew long and spindly, so close together that they formed walls of towering arches like a cathedral carved in living stone. Once upon a time, verdant underbrush and delicate ferns would dance and shiver in the gentlest of breezes that swept through the arching tunnels, their leaves brushing together to whisper secret confessions. Even the layers of rushing water attenuated to a reverent whisper in the hushed air, making it easier for Ardyn to overhear the group as they resumed speaking.

"There's supposed to be elements of Solheimian ruins here, too, not just the tombs of the Oracles," the woman said softly. "I found it in one of the books we read last night."

"Can we risk a little light, Ignis? What about the orbs?" the girl asked.

The Advisor hesitated, his step faltering as his silhouette cocked his head to the side. Ardyn took a careful step back behind the trunk that formed the corner of the solid wall of trees, placing his feet precisely on the browning moss so as to muffle his steps.

"I don't . . . _feel_ anything concrete. Whispers. Shadows. Purity and desecration."

"What?"

"Perhaps we could risk a single orb," he mused. "Close your eyes while I summon one."

A dagger stabbed behind Ardyn's eyes as a burst of sickeningly familiar silver light flared out of the entrance to the tunnel before settling into a dull, red glow that reflected off the white bark, transforming the hundred-meter-tall entwined trunks to countless rivers of blood. It had taken him years of study and discovery to learn that this place had been sacred to those bloated imbeciles who'd thought his people to be primitive savages. They'd believed it to be the home of Eos and built a temple here in her honor—long before they'd turned on her. How terribly befitting for a holy site of Solheim to reveal its true colors at last.

"Wow," the boy breathed in awe.

"This place was breathtaking once, so similar to . . .." The Advisor stopped, and Ardyn listened carefully as he entered the tunnel once more, knowing in his bones that his next word would contain some delicious tidbit of information, but the churlish cur trailed off before even the shadow of it could reach Ardyn's ears.

"Do you think Laura can fix it when the dawn breaks? Bring it back to life?"

Ardyn froze at the boy's question, his brow raising in interest. His power had been limited to gathering the scourge within him while he'd been alive, but once he had laid his hand on the Crystal—or perhaps once he'd died that first time—he'd found he could raise the shadows of men through the corruptive forces that kept him alive. Reviving the dead in their pure state, however, was another matter entirely. Was this Eos capable of such a power on this world? Why had she not demonstrated an inkling of it thus far to save the ailing human race?

"She isn't certain. It depends on the complexity of the plant and whether it is truly dead or merely gone dormant. Given what she went through before, I have my doubts."

"She saved our lives though," the girl said softly.

"At a cost," the Advisor said in a clipped tone. "Now, keep a whether eye. These crypts we're passing are getting older and more geometric in design."

"Yes," the woman agreed. "Closer to Solheim's influence, no doubt."

"Do you see the way the branches have been coaxed into intricate rosettes and solar discs? Their wall paintings bore a similar style on Coruscant. We must be drawing near the first and oldest tomb."

At the Advisor's words, the most fleeting glimpse of a memory passed over his sight—of him and Somnus as they played among the pile of Solheimian rubble in south Duscae, tossing small chunks of masonry and attempting to piece together the dizzying murals. But Somnus had never had the patience for it, for examining every piece as an individual and foreseeing its role in the entire puzzle. It was one of the reasons why he'd always lost at chess.

But those pompous displays of Solheimian superiority had long since peeled and faded away in millennia of sun and wind and sand, leaving only the more hastily constructed, barer mausoleum and so-called 'tower of learning,' a front for the weapon that had begun the Astral War. Where could the child have seen them?

"Perhaps . . . this one," the Advisor said, leading them inside the first alcove.

Indeed, if they were searching for Aera Mirus Fleuret, it was the correct alcove to be searching. Aera had been the first in so many respects—the first Fleuret, the first Oracle, the first to be conned by the gods to speak on the people's behalf. Though 'blessed' she clearly had been through the line of her blood, perhaps their people had been just as dull-witted as the Solheimians had claimed, for she had also been the first to be buried in this, the home of the forgotten goddess herself.

As the Advisor's glowing red light shone from the tomb's opening, creating the illusion of an ancient clay oven on fire, Ardyn was able to draw closer without fear of being spotted, though not as close as he had wished. He stopped just outside the entrance, tilting his head to listen.

"You're familiar with the procedure by now," the Advisor instructed. "Search for clues for a place to hide a chest, documents, artifacts. Check between the branches in the walls, the sarcophagus itself . . . look for buttons, latches, hidden hollow pockets."

"Ignis, do you see this date?" the woman asked. "She died before King Somnus ascended."

"I know. Things are . . . more complicated than I've led you to believe, and for that, you have my apologies."

"The thing is, the Rulers of Yore monument back in Insomnia talked about the First Oracle," the girl said. "That dark-haired woman standing beside King Somnus supposedly helped him rid the world of scourge the first time."

"We only _assumed_ that monument referred to the First Oracle, since King Somnus was the first king. But it appears as though this oracle was written out of history much as Ardyn was. I wonder . . .."

The Advisor paused briefly in thought before continuing. "A report from Gilgamesh has stated otherwise, but if Ardyn was already able to heal the scourge, could this woman have also possessed the Power of the Blessed Star? Were they _both_ oracles?"

Ardyn had begun to slide his shoulders along the wall that he might catch a glimpse of the intrepid travelers as they plundered his fiancée's tomb, but a blast of air and light that drowned out the Advisor's red orb bade him still.

" _ **No, blood of my blood,"**_ a familiar voice reverberated through the small room before blasting out into the hall. _**"An Oracle's duty is to speak to the gods on behalf of the people and no more."**_

Oooh, now _this_ was certainly a delicious new development. As far as Ardyn was aware, Aera hadn't made her holy, pious presence known since the day she'd died, and he was curious if her tone dripping with an overly ethereal quality meant that she had taken an astral form with as many liberties to her true body as Somnus had. Overpuffed, self-important cockatrices that they were—the hatred he'd thought long tucked-away frothed to the surface of his thoughts, and he bathed in it, allowing it for once free reign in his head.

And to think he could have become one of them, strutting about in that garish, ghoulish armor amidst all the inevitable heraldry whenever they appeared, passing on enigmatic and indecipherable advice to the ignorant babes carrying on in his name—an eternal servant. How crude.

" _ **My blood gifted me the Power of the Zephyrnian over the winds alone. When the Anathema's Power of Life was lost to the world, my sister was called upon to take up my mantle."**_

"And continue the Fleuret line," the Advisor finished in hushed tone, but it grew harder with the bitterness of years of disappointment and suspicion when he added, "Why appear to tell us this?"

" _ **You are blood of my blood. You seek to spare the King of Light his fate."**_

"Yes," the Advisor said breathlessly. "How? Please, tell me."

" _ **It cannot be done."**_

"I refuse to accept that! There must be _some_ way!"

" _ **The Anathema once believed the same. He felt not duty-bound to save those of this world, for he had jealously guarded his heart against those who would hold him bound here on Eos when he lost it to the fates."**_

"Like Ignis and the others do for Noct?" the boy asked, but Aera didn't acknowledge his query.

For his part, Ardyn could merely sneer in contempt at her words. _Love_. Ardyn had found only betrayal when he'd come searching for support, so he highly doubted love could have ever been found among that group of power-hungry thieves. It had seemed they'd tried to repeat history by assigning the new Chosen with his own who would love him, and this time, the dependent infants had fallen blindly for such trickery. What was it about the little King that inspired such an emotion? Two indebted as slaves from birth and one who had enslaved himself to escape his own inadequacies . . . and why should a king love such a desperate, pathetic lot in return?

" _ **When he learned of the gods' true plan for him, he sought to circumvent his fate, revealing the depth of his corruption."**_

By now, the company of children would doubtless be so distracted that he could chance a glimpse unseen. It had, after all, been over two thousand years since he'd last laid eyes on the filthy betrayer that was to have become his wife. He deserved the barest glimpse into those cold eyes, at the very least.

Carefully, silently peering around the arch into the alcove, Ardyn had to take a moment to allow his eyes time to adjust to the radiating light. The small vault seemed to glow from every place at once—the curling ivory walls of tree trunks; the glittering marble sarcophagus laid out in the center of the room; and most of all, the blonde figure floating serenely at the back, her diaphanous white gown fluttering in an unfelt breeze.

"What happened?" the Advisor asked.

Aera closed her eyes, her aura glowing brighter and brighter until even Ardyn was swallowed whole by the light.

" _ **Allow me to show you, blood of my blood."**_

* * *

Some small, unpolluted part of what may or may not have been left of his soul knew where he would find himself when he opened his eyes once more, but still he turned his head to deny the sight with which he'd been presented—that loathsome expanse of clean, white marble encircled by high carved columns; those steep steps leading up to the suspended rock that had ruined his life forever. He breathed in, but the scent of salt and sea on the breeze and the sound of distant waves crashing on the shore made him want to . . ..

Caem—this was the day he'd died and lived forever.

And there they were—Somnus, Aera, and Gilgamesh—doubtless discussing how best to betray him.

"I was under the impression the gods have been asleep since Ifrit was laid asunder. How could they have been so involved in this?" Gilgamesh asked in a passionless baritone.

Aera's tone was softer, subdued as she stared down at the floor and delivered her news. "They have dispatched their Messengers to inform me of the change and demand to know why we have left his side. The Crystal doesn't yet know of his corruption and has thus not yet made the final call, but Gentiana and Umbra tell me that . . .." She bit her lip and looked away. "That he must be forced to finish his duty and be brought before the Crystal."

"I regret to see what has become of my brother," Somnus said forlornly, shaking his head, and Ardyn's jaw twitched at the lie. "My methods may be seen by history as cruel, but how else should I employ my gifts to save our people? Every day, more and more succumb while he can heal only one at a time. He only thinks of the worth of those he's saved and turns away from the thought of how many have died in the meantime."

"I agree," Gilgamesh said with a nod, "For every one he saves, five more are killed or infected. The Solheimians are already extinct. Shall we allow him to toy with what is left of humanity?"

"Even if he were to succeed, for how much longer can he hope to hide his condition? How can a monster become King? Already, he spares nary a thought for those suffering. This persistent refusal to accept reality is not a trait of a good king."

"If you have need of it, you have my trust, my shield, and my sword," Gilgamesh vowed, unsheathing his sword. His long, gray hair fell forward as he bent on one knee and bowed to Somnus with the blade held in both hands. "I swear on my bloodline that I shall not rest until I have seen this through."

Aera finally looked up to meet Somnus's eyes. "Our duty must be to the people first," she said in a hard voice. "You have the faith of the Oracle and the word of the gods. You will be named the King of a new kingdom and given a Ring that will allow you to more easily wield the Crystal's powers. We are to form the kingdom in the name of Light and adopt a new tongue by the magic of the gods."

"Very well. When will my brother arrive?" Somnus asked.

Gilgamesh glanced toward the high, golden doors at the outer edge of the circular room, from where hurried steps could barely be heard, approaching fast. "I sent word to his preferred village this morning. My men should arrive with him tomorrow."

The footsteps grew louder until they echoed across the floor and out into the open air, and the three mutineers grew silent, turning to identify the fool who would dare interrupt a meeting of the highest houses of Eos.

Ardyn knew all too well the identity of that fool.

"Somnus!" the familiar voice called out as the doors shot open and banged against the stone walls. "Brother, I need your help!"

Three sets of eyes widened in shock. "What is it?" Somnus asked.

The younger Ardyn rushed up the long velvet runner and halted in front of the three, panting. "I . . . this may sound mad, but I believe the gods mean to betray me. I believe they wish me killed once I've finished their task."

Ardyn let his eyes travel up his younger self's appearance, noting the mud-spattered robes; his black hair coming loose from its tail and lying in wispy, stringy tendrils across his pallid face; and wild, blue eyes darting back and forth between Aera and Somnus. Apparently, his younger self hadn't yet acquired the subtle skill that was the art of keeping up appearances. Disgust flooded over him as he inspected this pathetic, sniveling excuse of a creature, who should have had better sense than to enter the coeurl's den seeking aid.

"And what would you have us do, brother?" Somnus asked as he, too, examined Ardyn's appearance carefully. "Fight the gods?"

"Yes! I've been gifted with powers, Somnus, which the gods fear and which this world cannot afford to lose. With each of our people that I save, they grow stronger. With the three of us together, we can unite our divine powers and fight back against their prejudice! We could rule our own kingdom free of the gods' purview."

"You speak blasphemy," Aera said flatly. "Your guide is corrupt."

"The guide that led me down my path is none other than the gods themselves. If your logic says I am corrupted, then so are they," Ardyn snapped, but his voice immediately turned soft as he took a step toward Aera, his eyes large and pleading. "What happened to us, Aera? We were friends once upon a time. All those warm and sunlit afternoons spent in the ruins. Do you not recall telling me of your girlhood passed in the fragrant sylleblossom fields? Trust me now as you did then."

Aera took a step back to position herself between Gilgamesh and Somnus as she summoned her trident to her hand. "You were a different man then. I no longer recognize this creature that places his own needs before those of the people. You may have forgotten your duty, but I have not cast mine aside."

Ardyn took a step back in turn, his eyes darting over each of them. A veil of stillness passed over him as realization dawned that he would be receiving no support from his brother, his Shield, or his fiancée. His breathing slowed; his expression grew placid.

"I _heal_ the people," he said calmly, rationally. "You tell me you would side with my dear brother on this matter?" Ardyn reclaimed his conceded ground by taking a small step forward and staring daggers down at her. "You cannot pretend that he and that brute of a Shield don't roam the countryside, burning alive all those even suspected of scourge. What sort of a king of the people could he be? Who are the gods to allow such a man?" he murmured.

"I do what I am able. We must do what the gods ask of us with the powers we are given," Somnus said coldly, placing a shoulder to block his line of sight to Aera. "Surely you realize yours cannot be a long-term solution. How long until you succumb? A month? A year? You cannot become King as you are."

Ardyn raised his right hand across his chest. "I _will_ become King!" he declared in a snarl.

He threw his hand out toward the three traitors, releasing his loathing into an intentless, instinctual blast of power. Though he hadn't expected the explosion of deep purple to erupt from his palm, he had to say he'd been satisfied with its results.

Somnus and Aera threw themselves to the ground as the foolish Shield leapt between them with his shield and sword raised. Before he could so much as swing his blade toward Ardyn's neck, the current of magic hit Gilgamesh square in the chest, slamming him into the base of the high pillar next to the stairs. His head snapped back as he hit the masonry before sliding down to the floor in an unconscious heap.

A Shield of the King, indeed.

By the time he had drawn his favored rakshasa blade, a gust of wind kicked up, picking up speed until it became a whipping gale, tossing his hair against his face and pushing him back toward the door. Ardyn leaned forward into the pressure, determined to reach his murdering brother and . . . do . . . something.

Somnus utilized Aera's distraction and scrambled to his feet with his blade in hand, his dark blue robes and cape beating against the backs of his legs as he stood to his full height.

They locked eyes.

And burst into time.

They reappeared in the same instant, metal meeting metal with a ringing clang that sent painful vibrations licking up Ardyn's bones. Clenching his teeth against the sensation in a distorted sneer, he shoved Somnus's sword back to swipe at his gut, but the prongs of a silver trident thrust between them and twisted, wrenching Ardyn's blade to the side and nearly out of his grasp.

"He's turned you against me. Stay out of this for your own good, Aera!" Ardyn shouted, regaining his hold and batting the weapon away.

"You'll not speak to me as though I were a simple child," she growled, attempting to make a stab for him, but he leapt back from her reach. "The power of the gods runs through my house the same as yours."

When he spotted Somnus advancing again, Ardyn warped away from the fray just as his brother disappeared in a haze of blue.

But Ardyn and Somnus had spent far too many years together, far too many sticky summer afternoons exploring the ruins and pushing chess pieces across a board at each other. They knew each other too well, and try as he might have all those long hours, Somnus had never been able to best his older brother when he always wore his heart on his robes for all to see.

So Ardyn knew precisely where to appear in the temple throne room—at the base of the steps to the throne and Crystal—just as Somnus phased into existence.

His brother had no time to react to the swirling cyclone of miasma that threw him back into the stone steps. Though the sickening sound of flesh hitting stone echoed in his ears, Ardyn didn't pause to verify his brother's status. Without looking in her direction so as to give her no warning, he slapped another wave of power in the last place he'd seen Aera before twisting away again.

When he reappeared, he smiled in triumph to see that he'd hit his mark.

She lay stunned on her back as he took three swaggering steps forward to loom over her. This wench was the last woman standing between him and the throne—the harlot he'd thought to be his dearest friend and confidant. Her blue-grey eyes were overly large in her pale face, but a flush spread over her cheeks as she grit her teeth and brandished her trident up at him.

"Ardyn," she said softly. "Don't do this. I _will_ kill you if I must."

"Oh, but my dear," he said with a gentle chuckle, "you will try."

Steel hit stone as his blade crashed into the floor beside her shoulder—instead of the heart he had been aiming for as she rolled to the side. Aera followed the momentum through to get to her feet, her body heaving as she sent the flat of the fork flying towards his head. Pain radiated across his cheek as the metal made contact with his face, igniting that primal instinct to avenge the personal damage. His fist shot out reactively, connecting with her cheekbone and spinning her around to fly back to the floor once again.

As he slowly approached her prone body, the sight of her seemed to grow farther away. He felt disconnected—his heavy steps almost mechanical as he bent to curl his fingers around the cold metal staff of the trident, lifting it almost casually out of reach of Aera's desperately scrabbling fingers. But the moment he stood straight, she backed away in fear—docile, subservient, disarmed. He could stop now, if he wanted. But she'd _known._ As the mouthpiece to the gods, the bitch had to have known all along that they'd planned to betray him.

He hadn't realized it at the time, or perhaps he'd brushed each coincidental circumstance off as nothing of note, but from time to time, she would say the queerest things: 'Even if others forget your name, I will always remember.' Yes, she had betrayed him from the very beginning, and every moment they'd shared from their very first meeting in the primeval forests of Tenebrae to wandering what was left of the ruins of their former lords and masters until now had been a lie.

"Brother, no!" Somnus shouted from behind him. Ardyn had run out of time to make a decision.

Aera jerked up suddenly, raising a hand to cast the spell that would send him flying back, but he reacted on instinct.

He thrust forward.

Ardyn buried the silver prongs deep into the white fabric and watched with detached fascination as the metal disappeared into Aera's gut. Her open-mouthed shock crumpled to pain before going vacant—the life leaving her eyes a split second before falling closed.

Feeling returned to him with the scarlet of her lifeblood welling up from beneath the prongs, spilling and spreading down her dress like a leaking wineskin. He yanked the trident from her body, watching as the flow of blood gushed and creeped onto the white stone floor in an ever-growing halo around her body.

This . . . this was a move he couldn't take back.

What had happened to them? Once upon a time, she had been the only one to understand the burdens of their _gifts_ , which were not, in fact, a form of power but servitude. He'd thought she'd understood that becoming King and Queen in this superstitious, ignorant world would be the only power to keep veneration from souring to persecution. They would have allies in all those left—all those who owed him their lives. They would be safe from the whims of the gods and worshipped by man as the deities that they truly were.

"A—Aera," he stuttered, tossing the trident aside and falling to his knees. Oh, by the gods, her blood was still warm as it seeped through his robes and stained his skin.

"What have you DONE?!" Somnus roared as Ardyn pulled her light frame into his lap. "You've become the monster I've feared you to be. Surely, the gods will see you punished now."

Ardyn paid him no mind as he stared down at Aera's slack face, dragging a fingertip across her delicate chin.

What had happened to them? How had it come to this?

No. This had been her fault. She had betrayed him. _Somnus_ had turned her against him.

The same black that clouded his thoughts was falling onto her lily-white cheek now—tears splashing against her skin and sliding down into her golden hair.

"She . . . betrayed me," he choked. "But I never wanted . . .." He raised his eyes to the throne, to that accursed Crystal waiting for him at the top of the stairs. None of them had asked for this. Their house hadn't participated in the war between Solheim and the gods. None of them had wanted any part in the disease that had ravaged them all. All his life he'd been serving the sentence for a crime he hadn't committed, and he'd not once asked for favors as he did as he was bid in the hopes of _finally_ being recognized and rewarded for his efforts.

Today, he would receive his reward.

Gathering up Aera's body, he staggered to his feet and began his slow, stuttering procession, dragging her dead weight along with him as decorously as he could manage.

"What are you doing?" Somnus demanded as they passed. Ardyn didn't respond.

Time had ceased to exist as he marched forward, until he suddenly found himself in front of his goal. The rock that had been responsible for every moment of misery since the day he'd been born glowed innocently just above his head—fleshy pink and vibrant blue.

 _You and your Six did this. Somnus did this. Make it better. Bring her back. Name me King._

"Ardyn, don't—" Somnus began, but Ardyn ignored the warning and reached up to place his palm firmly to the side of the open cavity.

Images. Flashes. Fleeting impressions. A whirlwind of memories that belonged not to him, but no one he could identify. Not a rock—a womb, which had given birth to his and Aera's fathers. Betrayal, mourning, pain, wild wailing lamentation. All slammed into his feeble, mortal mind at once, freezing his thoughts as though he were stunned prey in sight of its hunter. A vast consciousness lashed out like a whip against his brain. Fear and instinct flashed like lightning in his head—combined with the need to heal and defend—it was wielded like a weapon as he was thrown down the length of the staircase to Somnus's feet, with Aera landing in a lifeless heap on top of him.

With the shock of his landing fading, Ardyn blearily opened his eyes to the sight of that damnable Crystal hanging high in the air above his head, its once vibrant blue surface hardening and clouding over with inky onyx.

How terribly befitting.

Ardyn finally understood.

He was never intended to be chosen as King of Lucis, no. That reward had always been saved for his dear brother, who, it seemed, was only too happy to betray his blood for the compensation he hadn't toiled as hard to earn. No—Ardyn had been chosen for nothing more than to offer up his life and talents in payment for the sins of the gods and the sins of an empire that no longer existed. His reward was to have been chosen for the honor of playing the part of a sacrificial lamb.

And the woman he'd once considered his dearest friend and second cousin lying dead on top of him, still draining her life onto his heart, had known. The man who had skipped at his side as a child, who was currently holding the tip of his sword through the soaked scarlet rags of Aera's dress to press against his chest, had known. For how long had they been conspiring with the gods against him? Did it matter any longer? Did _anything_ matter any longer?

 _No_ , he chuckled to himself. Nothing mattered anymore. Life, love, brotherhood, fate, the gods, the fucking prophecy of the Chosen—it was all a farce. He saw that now.

"What are you laughing at?" Somnus demanded, pressing the tip of his sword into Ardyn's chest so that it bit into the skin just above his heart.

"Oh, you've _no_ idea," Ardyn chuckled. He stopped suddenly, staring up through the wisps of reddish hair in his face and fixing his tawny yellow eyes on that most despised visage—the black hair and blue eyes of House Caelum. "I'll never forgive you, Somnus."

"I know. I'm sorry," Somnus whispered.

With a flick of Somnus's wrist, the foolish Ardyn of the past was plunged into darkness.

* * *

As illusion behind his eyelids faded and he opened them to reveal reality once more, Aera's apparition began speaking anew to the children.

" _ **The Anathema was imprisoned in Angelgard for a time until he escaped. My sister, Aurora, blessed with the Power of Light, helped Somnus set the scourge to slumber these two thousand long years."**_

"And your tale implies that Noct could fall into darkness should he attempt to escape his fate," the Advisor stated flatly. "I refuse to accept that."

" _ **Even so, blood of my blood, seek answers where you may dare, but you will find none among gods and men. I have told all I know and must now take my leave. The cleansing draws ever nearer, but fear not, I shall light your returning path."**_

"No, wait!" the Advisor pleaded as he flung out a beseeching hand and took a step forward, but Aera merely bowed her head before lifting her eyes to the vaulted living ceiling and fading away. "Damn!"

But for once in her life, she was true to her word. The soft light that dawned over the living cathedral of trees might have awed him millennia ago, but now the glow merely served to reveal his hiding place. Ardyn threw himself into the adjacent alcove just as the older woman chided the Advisor.

"Ignis. Language!"

As they'd huddled around Aera's light for story time, Ardyn had recognized the woman as the Queen of Tenebrae, but the way she was speaking to him as though he were a child . . . could she be? Their hair and eyes were similar, not that such superficial details could be considered proof, but rumor about Lestallum clearly stated that both his parents were dead. However, Aera had recognized him as 'blood of her blood,' so the likelihood that his parents were the King and Queen of Tenebrae . . . oooh, how delightfully enticing.

"Apologies. I don't see the point in lingering here any longer."

Ardyn pressed himself against the back wall of his alcove to keep as wide a berth as possible between his aura and the mage's senses, and once they'd passed, he followed after on silent feet as the group retraced their steps back to the grand hall. He found he had to maintain an even greater distance than before because of Aera's light. Dramatic shadows cast themselves in the ethereal, buttery mist up the millions of finger-thick tree trunks, making them appear to move and ripple—as though an unseen presence watched their every footstep from the depths of the walls.

The grand hall of the Tomb of the Oracles was an intersection of five high, arched tunnels—with the courtyard in the center featuring a bowl of weeping roots and waterfalls set into the mossy, fern-lined floor. But Ardyn had grown weary of the natural marvels and the memories in this place. It was high time he made some new ones instead.

He waited until the little retinue had climbed down the tangle of wispy white roots into the shallow pool of sparkling blue water below. Stepping up behind a crumbling arch, a remnant of the Solheimian temple, he carefully tracked every movement of each member of the group as they spread out to explore the geometric columns and dark, gold switches shimmering just below the surface of the water.

Ardyn waited patiently.

"What do you suppose this place was in the time of Solheim, Ignis?" the boy asked, his voice growing closer over the sound of his sloshing, labored progress.

No time like the present to stir things up a bit. Yes, if the Advisor's obsession had transferred to this boy in the Prince's absence, he would do well for Ardyn's plans, indeed.

Summoning his dagger, Ardyn whipped out a hand, catching the unsuspecting boy by the throat and spinning him so his back was pulled flush against Ardyn's chest. With an easy flick of his wrist, he grazed the blade just so under the child's right eye, just enough to dig into the flesh without scraping against the bone—a warning to keep still. Truly, a generous, sporting act on his behalf, if he did say so himself.

"Ahh!" the boy cried out in pain and surprise, clutching desperately at Ardyn's arm.

"Leaving so soon?" Ardyn called out, allowing a slow smirk to crawl across his lips as the Advisor whirled and summoned those burning daggers to his hands. "Why, you haven't even thanked your gracious hosts for their hospitality!" He chuckled warmly down at the whimper that escaped the boy's teeth as blood welled over the tip of the blade and trickled down his cheek into his kerchief. "Now, now, behave yourself, and you may be able to see your dear mummy again."

"My . . . mother's . . . dead," he growled through his clenched jaw.

"That can be arranged as well, if you like," he snickered, digging the dagger a touch deeper just to feel the child's chest swell with a gasp.

He shifted his attention to the true focus of this little farce. Once again, the Advisor's charge was in grave danger at Ardyn's hand, and this time, nothing stood between them save for Ardyn's hostage and the Advisor's daggers.

"We never did finish our conversation in Altissia, did we?" he crooned. "What say we reinstate the discourse?"

Even from this distance, Ardyn could see the fire in his eyes as they narrowed—that feeble human mind no doubt clawing over every detail of the tactical situation and coming to the inevitable conclusion that he could never hope to match his opponent.

"I'd be more than happy to indulge you in palaver—should you release the boy."

Overreaching child.

However, the consort of a goddess wasn't to be underestimated, despite his youth. The mark she had left on him was what Ardyn was seeking to prod, after all, but he would have to be cautious. The child had already displayed evidence he was capable of wielding her abominable silver power, and Ardyn had no troops with him this time.

Then again, the Advisor likely didn't have his savior nearby, either. Ardyn doubted she'd stayed behind in their transport.

The question was—would the Advisor shed himself of the lives in his hands and send the rest away, or would he keep them nearby for assistance? He had to have known that Ardyn had revealed himself for him and no other. The boy whose windpipe currently lay beneath Ardyn's tensing fingers was merely a plaything—an incentive to goad him into playing along. Requesting his pupils' assistance would level the odds, certainly, but at considerable risk to the lives that Ardyn considered dispensable.

Surely, he'd figured this all out by now.

"The rest of you, go," the Advisor said softly, his deadly eyes not leaving their mark.

"No way," the dark-haired girl snapped, summoning a one-handed sword. "This bastard tried to kill Noct and planned my dad's murder. He's responsible for all of this."

"But, Ignis—" the woman protested.

"You have your orders. Go now."

"You'd better listen to him, my dear," he said to the reluctant girl, who was being pulled away by the elbow. Turning to the Advisor, he added, "Although—ordering your mother about . . . and here I thought you were well-mannered."

The woman's forest-green eyes lit with her own fire as she ceased tugging on the girl and took a step forward. Ardyn could certainly see the resemblance in expression and coloring, if nothing else. Examining the Advisor's reaction wouldn't even be necessary for confirmation.

The woman opened her mouth to spit out a retort, but the Advisor threw out a hand to stop her. "Go!" he commanded.

The woman and the girl threw Ardyn one last fear and hate-laced glance before turning and sloshing toward the arch that led to the entrance, their progress quickening as ankle-deep water gave way to slippery mud to brown, mossy carpeting.

The Advisor didn't speak again until the three of them were left alone in the sacred sanctuary. "Let him go. Harming him will not achieve anything on either side."

"My, but you're a right side calmer than when your beloved Noctis was in this same position. Do you really care so little for the life of an innocent young man?" A soft sob escaped the boy's panting lips as Ardyn subtly tightened his fingers around his throat and flexed the blade into his skin.

"Talcott?" the Advisor queried, his voice oddly gentle. "Be ready."

"Y—y—yes, sir," the boy choked, the knot in his throat jumping against Ardyn's fingers.

With no other warning or discernable movement, the Advisor's hand flung out, sending a spinning, sparkling blur of wood and silver whipping toward Ardyn's right eye. He ducked to the side, shoving the boy's head in the path of the blade, but the Advisor dismissed it before it could reach its mark.

His subsequent shout of "Run!" was lost in a haze as Ardyn stepped into time to avoid the second blade flying toward him. Instead of finding his hostage fled when he returned to the realm of the living, however, the boy was at his feet, scrambling like a stunned crab. Ardyn's gaze shot to where the Advisor should have been standing, but all that remained was an outline in sparkling blue.

So—the child had learned the Glaive arts in Ardyn's time away. How very interesting.

He'd thought the little King had been too weak a Caelum to maintain fully Crystal-bound servants—which was why the Old Kings had stepped in to lend their power to the Glaive in the first place, when the Oracle had roused them from their tombs during the rite in Altissia. Was this evidence that Noctis wasn't as ineffectual as Ardyn had previously believed? Or was this merely a display of the goddess's power?

A rush of breathy wind, and Ardyn's back was slammed against a root snaking its way to the ground behind him. He looked down, raising an eyebrow at the fist twisting his kerchief before lifting a threatening hand toward the cowering child at his feet.

"You may not love the child as much as you did your little prince, but look at him cowering at my feet. You certainly have ruined him in much the same manner."

"You want to dance with me? So be it. I surmise the fates meant for us to meet blade for blade at some point, if not in Altissia. I only ask that you let him go."

Ardyn tilted his head against the metal now pressing against his throat, searching those fathomless old eyes. Such a queer creature . . . it was no wonder the fates had taken such a profound interest in him. He was curiously both old and young, naïve and world-weary, sage and warrior.

The Advisor was admittedly intelligent, and yet profoundly stupid—bare skin touching his in such a tempting manner as he boldly challenged an immortal to a duel. The child had more gall than Ardyn had given him credit for. Why couldn't _this_ have been the creature he'd been destined to pit himself against rather than the spineless flan that had been Chosen?

Ardyn let out a bored sigh against the Advisor's grip and let his hand drop. "Very well. He is released."

"Run, Talcott," the Advisor said, and the boy obeyed, staggering away as quickly as he could with a hand held fast to his cheek. "Why are you doing this? You could have slaughtered us unawares that first day in Galdin. If you truly wished to win, why didn't you?"

Stupid ephemeral child . . . the heart of the matter had just spilled unwittingly from his ignorant lips.

He would simply have to create his own diversions until the false prophecy was brought to fruition. What fun would a duel be for the boy without a little doubt? Reaching deep, he allowed the black of his heart to bubble to the surface, spilling over his eyelids and down his cheeks, leaking from the corners of his mouth, and spilling over the Advisor's bare hands.

"Perhaps I should kill you after all," he murmured intimately, "turn you into a daemon so your beloved wife can know the true shape of your soul."

At first, he couldn't comprehend why the Advisor didn't recoil in horror at the sight of Ardyn's true nature and the possibility of being infected. They continued to stare each other down until Ardyn's sight began to blur around the edges. What was this? The Advisor's hold wasn't tight enough for him to lose consciousness.

The cause became all too clear as a monster reared up in the back of his head—called forth as though it could sense its mistress's mate in danger. Ardyn's constant companion awoke viciously, that silver and gold pool roaring up in lashing waves of fire beneath his temples and behind his eyeballs.

"If I were you," the Advisor replied softly, "I would be more concerned about testing the limits of hers."

With a violent shove, Ardyn broke free of his grip and warped to no place in particular, but his adversary was right there when he reappeared, daggers grasped in hands full of flames.

Ardyn smiled serenely in response, flicking his hands up in a theatrical gesture as he brought every weapon in his armiger just to the edge of this realm, their scarlet shadows lighting his face ever brighter as more and more came into view. He allowed the Advisor a moment to contemplate his situation before bringing his hands down, sending swords and maces and shields and polearms and daggers charging toward the lone man standing in the middle of the glimmering pool of water.

There was something deliciously satisfying about watching the child dance to his barrage of ghostly light—something that left an impression. All save one of his blades was calmly evaded with an elegant twist or an artful spin to the side. The final sword passed through the boy's shoulder before it followed the rest of his arsenal, turning solid as it buried itself into the ancient wall of the grand hall with a final dull thud.

With another flick of his hand, Ardyn dismissed the blades back into his armiger and rushed forward to aim a kick towards the Advisor's face, but he ducked and twisted as though following an oft-repeated dance routine. Ardyn was forced to take a retreating step to avoid the flaming slash of hot metal toward his head before he leapt into the air, stepping into time once more.

It had been years since he'd last tangled with a warper—a member of the Glaive who had paid dearly for his mistake of not running while he'd had the chance. When wielded by someone with half a mind for tactics, the battle could become an aerial ballet—where mortal concerns such as direction, time, and realm ceased to exist. Reality narrowed to a point—not in time, but in space, as steel and fists alike writhed and clashed in and out of this plane of existence. Thought was exchanged for instinct, calculation giving way to second nature—with no other lodestar beyond that of the aura of one's opponent and the electrical signal between one's brain and weapon.

So often, he was reduced to the brute force of a blunt kick when playing with his meals just for the sake of creating the farce of a challenge. But with this child, he could pull his sword without immediately tearing his flesh to bloody ribbons. He could almost pretend for a moment that he wasn't toying with a mortal—that he was truly dueling with his life balancing on the edge of a blade.

Almost.

The child was a wonder to behold—made of sensual fluidity and confidence, as though he weren't fighting a battle he had no hope of winning. His daggers were one with his hands and his magic was fused with his being as he feinted and danced his way through the sparkling droplets of water he kicked up. Arcs of bright blue lightning flickered from the high vaulted canopy of trees as Ignis Scientia spat the blood welling in his mouth and fearlessly leapt forward to meet once again the blade of the man who couldn't die.

But all the while, that gold and silver fire licked at Ardyn's nerves and reminded him that no matter what, this game must remain just that.

But what had he learned? The child had been trained well, to be certain—that dull, overcalculating mind transformed into instinctual tactical prowess. There was nothing of Scientia's wife that he could see beyond the reckless abandonment of one's life that only an immortal could display so casually in a duel—and perhaps his inhuman ability to eschew assessment in favor of listening to that savage song in his nerves.

Two flaming daggers met his blood-red blade in a burst of black-tinged fire, and once it had cleared, Ignis leaned forward, glowering with stone-cold eyes.

"Tell me. Do _you_ know how to save him?" he asked deceptively softly through heavy breaths.

Ardyn raised an eyebrow. "I? Even if I did, why would you take anything I have to say under consideration?"

"I would be remiss in my duty if I didn't explore every option, travel _every_ path."

And instantly, the encounter grew wearisome—the expenditure of so much power without the stimulation of new information—and now _this_. All that potential for becoming so much more, and this child was clinging to his dear little princeling as though he were a toddler dragging along a world-weary stuffed moogle. Ardyn had had his fun, but until he sought out the true power behind this curious pair, he couldn't be disappointed when this foolish youth could give him no more than what he was.

And still he wondered—what could such an estimable opponent see in a whiny, indolent king to inspire such loyalty?

Ardyn shoved him away again, this time turning to amble back toward Aera's tomb—either to see if he could draw her out again for a chat, or at the very least, to explore the deeper, older halls of Solheim's temple for evidence of interdimensional switches.

"I might advise you to proceed with caution, following that line of reasoning," he said with a seductive hum, not turning to face the Advisor standing stock still in the mud. "You may not be prepared to pay the price necessary." Tossing a careless wave over his shoulder in his signature dismissal, he said, "Fare thee well, my dear Ignis. Until we meet again."

He lengthened his strides as he drew farther away, eager to have this errand behind him. They were all running out of time to accomplish their goals before the hour of redemption was upon them, and Ardyn hadn't even begun studying the delightful little puzzle he'd been presented with all those years ago. Perhaps the time had come to abandon this fruitless notion of tracking Solheim down. Perhaps it was time to return home at last.


	94. Chapter 94

_Suck it up. Try not to think about it. Handle shit as it comes._

That thought had been playing on a loop for the past day as he gripped Kaze's reins with one hand and trudged along the asphalt as silently as he could. The faint tang of smoke growing thicker as they drew closer to Lestallum definitely wasn't responsible for the invisible fingers tightening around his throat and making it difficult for him to breathe, no.

An unexpected grating of rubber against asphalt shot like lightning through Gladio's raw nerves and brought his broadsword automatically to his hand, but the second he'd identified the source as Geri's soles dragging over the cracked pavement, he dismissed the blade with a silent scowl.

"Pick up your feet, or you're gonna get us all killed," he whispered to the half-dead Guardian. Fuck, he knew she was about ready to drop right here in the middle of the road just as he was, but getting to the city and assessing the situation took priority.

They could save dying for later.

He could hear her long hair brushing against the shoulders of her coat as she shook her head. "No lights in the tunnel. You know what that means? And you smell that smoke?"

Yeah, he knew what it meant, all right. The winding tunnel that led to Lestallum's outer gate, lifeless and pitch black, meant that they hadn't failed their mission after all; Iggy had. And the smoke . . . just how badly had Iggy failed? They'd find out soon enough.

"Quiet!" Iris snapped in a whisper from the other side of Kaze's saddle.

Gladio wished it was light enough to smile over at her, that it was safe enough to pull her into a tight squeeze just to tell her how fucking proud he was of her for holding Pullmoor on her own, but they were both too wiped to do much but keep a steadying hand on the passed-out EXINERIS worker draped over Kaze's back and avoid panicking about what kinda scene they were returning to.

The first sign of this disaster had been inconsequential—a couple of tiny little havens in the middle of nowhere that had suddenly gone offline, but they were positioned so that half the power grid had gone down along with them. EXINERIS had suspected a routine power failure caused by a daemon attack on the power station between Pullmoor Haven and Lingagh, but as Holly had come rushing into Iggy's office in the middle of one of their meetings and Gladio was about to order every Guardian team they had in Lestallum out to that location, Iggy's low utterance stilled the room.

"No. Send a single team only."

"I don't think you understand the situation here," Holly argued, her voice growing higher as it tensed. "That line powers all of East Lucis: Norduscaean Garrison, Galdin, Hammerhead, Longwythe, Insomnia. Right now, half the country's without power."

"Hammerhead's got the wind turbines, right?" Gladio asked.

Holly nodded. "Right now, we can only hope everyone's either headed there or holed up until we can get the lights back on."

"This is it," Iggy whispered, his expression hardening to granite. The back of his chair hit the wall, nearly knocking the white board proclaiming 476,243 souls left on this eos to the floor. He stood and strode to the bookshelf next to his fully-equipped caffeine station.

"How many teams can you assemble immediately?" Iggy demanded. His fingers danced lightly over the spines of books and binders before he found the one he was looking for.

"Not a lot," Gladio admitted. "Most of 'em are protecting the outposts and settin' up the base in Insomnia. Maybe five? And that's if I pull Iris and Talcott."

"Do it. We'll need every man, woman, and child that can hold a weapon before this is behind us."

"What is it? What's goin' on?" He hadn't yet put together whatever clues Iggy's brilliant mind already had, but the edge in his voice and the sharp thuds of his heels on the rug as he returned to the desk cleared Gladio's haze of permanent fatigue and made him sit up a little straighter.

"Here," he said tersely, tossing the open binder onto the wooden surface. He slapped a finger at the power station set between two pylons on two havens. "I want you heading up the team dispatched to Pullmoor and Lingagh Havens. The next team shall be split between Nacie and Wainterre Havens near Aracheole. Another at Alkyrie near Tollhends. Be certain that any EXINERIS workers accompanying Guardian teams to those areas are well-versed in weaponry, as those will be the worst areas to be attacked. The final team I wish dispatched to assist those in Galdin."

"Hold on, Ig," Gladio said, reaching out to grab his sleeve as he spun around to the other side of the desk, but the slippery silk slid through his fingers as Iggy lunged for the phone and hit the button that would ring his assistant downstairs.

"Luke. Please inform all councilmembers they are to meet me in the chamber in ten minutes. Instruct Jeanne and Monica to warn all outposts immediately: code Vanguard. Yes, Vanguard."

Iggy placed the phone back in its cradle as Holly stuttered, "V—V—Vanguard?"

Hard jade eyes met his, and Iggy answered in a soft, defeated voice, "It was only a matter of time. We must hold what we can and hope we survive."

Code Vanguard—the word Gladio knew had been coming for years now but wasn't ready to hear when it had finally left Iggy's lips. EXINERIS Lestallum was the only branch in operation providing light to all of Lucis, and Gladio and the Guardians had spent more time defending the hundreds of miles of lines stretching across the continent than they had actual people. The way the power grid was set up made them vulnerable to Ardyn's whims and the daemon hordes, and they knew it.

So Ig had used their finite resources to place hydroelectric generators and wind turbines in their most vital areas that had either rivers or wind to capitalize on: Vaullerey, Caem, Myrl Estate, Old Lestallum, Cauthess Depot, Formouth Garrison, Hammerhead. He'd prioritized protecting the people from a blackout first and had slowly been adding amenities to convert farming and supply stations to be independent from Lestallum, but a lack of sheet metal had slowed them down.

Now they'd run out of time, but this blackout wouldn't be like the one almost ten years ago. Daemons outnumbered people by far now. It'd be so much worse.

With the code uttered and everything laid out on the desk, Gladio understood the plan now. It would be his responsibility to restore power to the unconverted side of Lucis to keep the people and supply garrisons safe. His other teams would be protecting Aracheole and Tollhends, the two former bases that were still dependent on the grid and where most of their livestock was kept.

The only thing Gladio couldn't understand was just how Iggy knew this one outage was the signal they'd been waiting for.

Until it suddenly clicked. A single power station that cut off half of Lucis . . . the half that had the fewest facilities running on alternative energy. There were vulnerabilities in the power route, but anyone as smart as Holly would've ironed out _this_ particular kink in the works years ago, unless she'd been told not to.

"You set the lines up like this on purpose, didn't you? A trap so you'd know when this was coming."

Iggy gave a single sharp nod. "Most of the east is clear of civilians, with the exception of Galdin and Longwythe. Cindy and Prompto have been instructed that should the worst occur, they are to use their one vehicle with daemon-repelling lights to evacuate Longwythe, and there are already several Glaives near Galdin."

"I'll dispatch everyone and head out now," Gladio said, standing from his chair. "What about Laura?"

"She's headed here as we speak. I shall assign her when she arrives and I know more of the tactical situation."

"Got it," he said, turning to go, but Iggy's voice stopped him as his fingers brushed the brass knob.

"I'm afraid I can't spare you any additional vehicles, as the others have farther to travel. Should something happen to yours, here." Gladio turned just in time to shoot a hand out and catch the small, silver object flying toward his right shoulder. He opened his fist to see Iggy's chocobo whistle glittering like new in the office lights in the center of his open palm. "That should summon both Calima and Bessie, should you have need of them."

"Thanks."

"Please . . . take care."

He held the door open for Holly, who'd just stood to follow him, but Iggy held her back. "Holly, I require a few more moments of your time, if you please. We'll need to strategize and come up with a plan should our worst fears come to fruition."

Gladio had barely seen a moment's rest as he, Iris, Mike, and Geri blindly beat the daemon hordes off the EXINERIS workers while they clung to the poles between Pullmoor, the power station, and Lingagh. He sure as fuck hoped Laura had been right about Crystal protection, because when the miasma cleared a day later, all four of them were dripping blood from at least a dozen daemon bites. One look at tiny little Iris's arms covered in overlapping bloody crescents, and that mantra had started tickling at the back of his head until it was screaming.

 _Try not to think about it. Handle shit as it comes._

They'd remained another two days, covering the poles in shifts as the EXINERIS women checked and rechecked the dead lines and tried to get their half-shredded truck working. Gladio had been the one to call it when Jessie confirmed that as far as they could tell, there was nothing wrong with their relays; the problem had to have been coming from one of the sites closer to Lestallum. He'd whistled for Kaze, Calima, and Bessie, and together the seven humans and three chocobos raced back to Lestallum as quickly as their cemented feet would carry them, checking each station along the way.

With every pole they examined and found to be in working order as they drew closer to the city, Gladio's fear mounted. It'd been a year since winter had faded into spring and the sun hadn't risen with the warming temperatures, and the lack of light combined with the high-density population would be perfect for setting a trap and wiping out the majority of what was left of humanity. Had Iggy planned for that, too? He closed his eyes as they walked—it wasn't like he was using 'em anyway—and tried to picture every solitary evening he and Iggy had spent sitting at that damned desk poring over the eighty-seven weak points he'd identified in their decaying civilization and the half-dozen or so scenarios he'd cooked up for each one, but he couldn't recall any scenario for Lestallum being attacked when all the Guardians had been called away.

His worst fears were confirmed the second they rounded the corner and spotted the reflective white gate that spanned the tunnel's exit . . . its smaller side door smashed inward and hanging off the corner of a single hinge.

"Everyone, calm down," he murmured in response to the gasps, shoving a little at Jessie to get her to wake up as he picked up the pace. He squinted into the dark, trying to examine from a distance the chink in the city's most important armor and determine the source of the flashing orange light illuminating the space behind the gate.

"Fire," Iris breathed out, breaking into a loping jog.

"Iris, slow down. Wait for the rest of us!" Gladio yelled to her back.

She reached the doorway and froze, her silhouette backlit eerily against that orange flicker. Gladio dropped Kaze's reins and rushed to her side, grabbing her shoulder to shove himself through the doorway and place himself between his last living family member and whatever it was had her standing stock still in shock like that.

Neither a daemon nor a Guardian stood sentinel over the entrance of the largest human settlement left on Eos, but the reason for that was made pretty fucking evident when his eyes fell on the source of the flickering light his brain didn't want to associate with the heavy scent of smoke on the air.

"If that reaches the crater, the whole region's fucked," Iris muttered under her breath.

Shaking free of his exhaustion with a shudder of horror, Gladio patted Iris's shoulder, urging her to follow. "Come on. Stick with me."

Taking extra care not to drag his heavy feet across the asphalt, Gladio took off at a run toward the power plant—clearly seen looming over the dark city with its roof consumed by flames.

* * *

 **Lestallum Times**

 **May 766**

 _ **Fact or fiction? Factions divide over return of the Chosen King.**_

 _ **Lucis calls for elected seat to the Council. Could this be the end of the monarchy?**_

 **EXINERIS Grid Collapses Under Pressure**

The pride of Lucis these last ten years fell prey to an overwhelming attack now known as the Siege of Lucis. The siege began at approximately 10AM Monday, 25 April, when daemons attacked a seemingly unimportant power station near Pullmoor Haven that resulted in a blackout of all of east Lucis. Details are still being pieced together, but simultaneous attacks on human settlements, supply depots, and power lines across the entire country suggest supernatural intervention.

"My girls have done the best they can," Holly Teulle states between jerks of a wrench on one of the plant's thermoelectric incinerators. "But there just aren't enough Guardians to protect the lines anymore. I know it sounds harsh, but the loss could've been so much worse. We have Duke Scientia to thank for that, I don't care what anyone says."

Teulle assures us that the new line running from Lestallum to Hammerhead to Insomnia has been restored and will remain operational for as long as possible. Guardians have been dispatched to outposts without power to relocate them to self-sufficient outposts. Contrary to rumor, Lestallum has **not** fallen and will be taking in the majority of refugees.

With the grid down, mobile communications are not expected to be re-established. Emergency means of making contact beyond your outpost are available via CB and ham radio in your local UNE Council building. It is unknown whether news of the attack can be sent to Madame First Secretary Claustra at this time.

 **Lestallum Breached**

A somber mood pervades the atmosphere in the aftermath of the attack on Lestallum, which took place the day after the attacks on every other outpost and supply depot in Lucis. All Guardians had been dispatched to protect citizens and vital supplies elsewhere when daemons overwhelmed the gates and stormed the city, but King Regent Ignis Scientia had already begun evacuating civilians to the power plant, which had been breached from below an hour earlier. Residents fought off the attack while the heroic EXINERIS workers toiled day and night to repair damage to the main thermoelectric incinerator.

The siege ended at approximately 2am on Friday morning when EXINERIS restored power to the city and banished the daemons. Damage to the city's infrastructure was minimal, but Quarantine Division reports that their facilities were raided and their supplies destroyed.

Widespread rumors of a massive fire breaking out at the plant seem to be unsubstantiated, as no residents nor any part of the structure suffer from burns.

There were 200 casualties reported during the siege and hundreds more injured, including King of Tenebrae Venetus Étoile, who has been taken to an undisclosed location for recovery and observation. Queen Trina Étoile reassures the people of Tenebrae that she will see to their needs and take her husband's place on the Council until the king returns.

High Commander Gladiolus Amicitia has not been seen since power was restored.

 **Galdin Quay Falls**

In addition to the power grid failure and the attacks on all Lucian outposts, approximately one hundred daemons stormed and overtook the last public port of Lucis late Monday night. Though Guardians fought to defend the post and connecting town, several were either killed or injured in the attack alongside over 10,000 residents. Among those survivors injured include Coctura Arlund, this paper's very own Dino Ghiranze, and Glaive Elea Heidel.

While Galdin has been secured, it has been placed under strict quarantine until ESI researchers are certain that none have been infected. Two teams of Glaives have chosen to remain behind on the isle of Angelgard to defend against daemons until the King's return.

 **In Honor of Those Fallen**

In addition to the citizens whose lives have been lost to recent events, this paper would like to extend heartfelt condolences to those families who have lost a member in service to the cause of preserving humanity.

We would like to take the opportunity to mourn the passing of General Ezma Auburnbrie, head of the former Meldacio Hunters. She is survived by her son Dave and sister Kimya, who vow to carry on her work in her name.

We are also devastated to report that Doctor Sania Yeagre, world-renowned biologist and head of the Eosian Science Institute, was overwhelmed by daemons on a scouting mission last month. Her remains were found near the Disc of Cauthess last week by a team of Guardians searching for the scientist's whereabouts. Inventor of the gray-water reclamation system and key contact for all daemon tracking in Lucis, Dr. Yeagre has contributed much to Lucis, and we are sure to feel her loss keenly. Dr. Scientia, newly-appointed chair to ESI, was unavailable for comment.

This paper also wishes to honor the passing of those Guardians who gave their lives to defend outposts and lines during the attack. Our most heartfelt gratitude goes out to Miles Vestiga, Karasu Kanshi, Jambert Carrin, Walden Fletcher, Julia Tyler, Jora Nader, and those Glaives still missing their last names—Jacob, Gillian, Franz, Karl, and Sarah.

Services for the dead will be held 6 May at noon at the Memorial Wall.

 **Insomnia Overtaken by Infernian**

As Guardians set up their base inside the once bustling Underground with Cor the Immortal at the helm, Crown citizens and Niflians alike received a blast from the past when they discovered what had become of the capital of Lucis.

Imperial Chancellor Ardyn Izunia has retaken the abandoned metropolis, installing none other than Ifrit the Infernian in a seat of power directly in front of the Citadel as a challenge to any who dare attempt to reclaim the throne for the Chosen King. Glaives have been involved in several skirmishes with the fire god in an attempt to de-throne the traitor, but no lasting progress was made before they were called back to handle this most recent crisis.

The disappearance of nearly all Niflian personnel at the fall of Niflheim has long been a mystery to those high-ranking military officials still alive to tell the tale, but that question was laid to rest at the discovery of three automated Niflian bases installed at various points around the Crown City. According to incoming Guardian reports, former soldiers of the Empire were daemonized inside their armor, creating a never-before-seen Magitek deathless soldier. Guardians were working to clear the city of these daemonic intruders before being recalled to Lestallum.

Former president Air-Marshal Aranea Highwind is expected to journey out to Insomnia to assist General Cor of clearing the city of the bases as soon as newly-appointed President Wedge Kincaid is sworn in and matters in Lestallum are settled.

* * *

"I've gotta get to Iggy." Gladio's thick fingers squeezed the edges of the tablet as he resisted the urge to let it drop on the bright red and blue patterned tile floor. "But this isn't what I wanted to know," he growled as he carefully placed it on the bedside table and glared up at the somber green eyes watching him carefully. "Iris, Talcott, Monica, Dustin, Iggy, Prompto, Laura. Start talkin'."

"Besides tired, everyone's fine. Laura checked Iris over herself before she left. Said that wristband and her Glaive sigil should protect her from the bites the same as a Glaive. She's home with Monica."

Gladio hung his head and let out all the air in his lungs in a whoosh of breath. Iris would be okay . . . at least as okay as he currently was, and it sounded like Laura hadn't died after pulling that stunt with the fire. After several moments, his gut unfroze just enough to say, "Talcott?"

"Ignis called for Prompto to come to Lestallum, so Dustin took Talcott out to Hammerhead to help with the refugees and supply runs down to Galdin."

"Already? How long I been out?"

"I found you passed out in the street, you numbskull—you've been out two days. Laura checked you over and diagnosed you with exhaustion, so Ignis knows you're fine, but I finally had to tell your sister you were staying with me. She was losin' her mind. Hope that's okay."

He threw the covers off his lap and swung his legs to the side of the bed, not giving a shit about being butt naked. She must've been really worried about him to allow him to sleep on her fancy sheets in this state. The stench rolling off him reeked worse than the Vesperpool, and she'd always despised him 'smelling like ass' in her bed. He was also starving enough to eat an entire gods damn garula—so shower first, then food, then Iggy.

"Why wouldn't it be okay?"

Aranea took two small steps back as he stood, her long embroidered dressing gown parting to reveal his favorite dusky purple chemise trimmed with cream-colored lace. It must've been just before or after bedtime—whatever time it was—not that anyone could tell the difference these days when it was constantly dark.

"I dunno. Can never tell if this secrecy thing of ours is a you thing or a duty thing," she said with a shrug.

He froze mid-step halfway between the bathroom and the bedroom and turned toward her, inspecting her carefully. She stood near the wall by their bed, her arms crossed over her chest and her hip cocked sassily out to the side in a gesture most people identified as defensiveness, but the wounded look in her eyes spelled vulnerability after all the years they'd spent together.

It'd been so easy to pretend for this long that what they had was nothing more than a fantastic, convenient lay. She'd known exactly what was required of him and his position and never tried to tie him down, just as he'd known she had better shit to do than fall in love and get swept off her feet. They drove each other crazy sometimes—with her always getting on his ass about being a flirtatious slob and him getting pissed about her disappearing on a mission without keeping him updated or trying to make life-threatening decisions without including him. But somewhere in between all the fucking and bickering, she'd earned his devotion. Six help him, he was whipped—not that he'd ever breathe a word about it to her.

And he could've lost her this week. Either one of them could've died, and she wouldn't've known . . ..

"Tell you what. I live through this thing with Noct, how bout I make an honest woman outta ya?"

Surprise shot through his heart like he was suddenly running for his life—not only at the words that'd left his mouth, but also at the way her face softened and her lips parted at his question. It wasn't like they weren't headed in that direction anyway—even if he'd allowed the playboy rumors to run rampant long after other women stopped holding his interest.

Ten years, and she still wasn't considered old by a long shot. Her hips had grown a little wider, her boobs a little heavier, but damn, she was tight and strong in all the right places—a well-conditioned warrior. His . . . she was his. But she was also much older than him, and her body was letting her know she was running out of time to shoot out rugrats—something they both wanted. But in this world . . ..

He wasn't ready to commit to her just yet, not with this one event looming over his future, but they were running outta time to start a life. For two years they'd discussed continuing to put their lives on hold or choosing not to wait for the dawn. It was her body that wound up making the decision for them; they couldn't afford to wait for Noct anymore. She still went out in the field—they weren't gonna turn into beer-gutted homemakers just cause they had some kids—but _if_ they hadn't waited too long, it was only a matter of time before he managed to knock her up.

It wasn't perfect, but it was the best they could do. He could marry and raise his family if he survived the dawn, or she and the kid could more easily move on without the Amicitia name and legacy hovering over them if he didn't. And the child . . . boy or girl, could grow up in a world free of the curse Gilgamesh had placed on his line.

"You're askin' me to marry you?" she asked incredulously, her eyes traveling up and down his naked body.

She should've been disbelieving, all right. He couldn't think of an outfit he owned that made him look any better than he already did. He took a few steps forward to engulf her tiny hips in his large hands as she looked up at him. Those sea-green eyes widened a fraction as he lifted the corner of his lips into a cocky smirk he knew would piss her off.

"Yeah, maybe I am. Whaddya say?"

She searched his face for a few seconds before giving him a sudden rough shove that sent him stumbling backward several steps in the direction of the bathroom. "I say you ask me again after you've taken a shower and put on some clothes. You smell like a behemoth's asshole."

* * *

Gladio took a deep breath of cold morning air as he stepped off Aranea's stoop and onto Leville Square, frowning at the heavy scent of smoke that still lingered on the air. There was a hell of a lot more people out than he'd expected for only two days after an attack of this magnitude, but he supposed all that time spent wondering if they were about to die as they huddled around the light from the meteor site and crowded into the power plant for days on end would give anyone a severe case of cabin fever.

"Should start another paper," Gladio heard one of Aranea's neighbors grumble from the roof next door. "Don't think I haven't noticed all the subtle hints about how great a job Scientia's doing and how the king'll be returning soon."

"Vyv's in the Council's lap, no doubt, but who has the time?" another woman answered. "Now that Dino's down for the count, I bet the paper will turn into a quarterly, or even go under."

"We don't know if he's down. How can anyone be sure who gets the scourge these days?"

The voices grew too quiet for him to hear as he passed, and he let out a heavy breath. Even though hardly any of the buildings in the city had been touched, the people sure had. The eerie, fragile atmosphere set his teeth on edge as he slipped into the steady stream of muttering people, and he was grateful he wouldn't have a long commute to the UNE Council building wading through the uneasiness. His right hand twitched at his side, ready to summon a blade at a moment's notice.

"King Noctis! The King is returning soon! The King of Light is gonna save us all!" a bug-eyed man Gladio guessed to be in his late thirties shrieked, stepping into his path just as he was clearing the fountain in front of the Leville.

The insanely wide sandwich board he had strapped around his shoulders blocked Gladio's and several other pedestrians' way forward, so he jerked to a stop before he could crash into the back of the tiny blonde in front of him. He frowned down at the white board featuring red, hand-painted letters that read 'THE END IS NIGH.' He seemed kinda young to be sporting those wispy hairs graying at his temples, but everyone was aging faster than they should be these days.

Gladio still hadn't recovered from the day he'd discovered that the deep laugh lines that forked out from the corners of his eyes didn't disappear when he wasn't smiling.

"Do you believe?!" the guy screeched to the small gathering he'd taken hostage.

"Will you give it a rest, Fenric?" another guy sighed from one of the tables on the patio outside the Leville Apartments. "High Commander Amicitia's got more important things to do than listen to your religious dogma."

"High Commander Amicitia?" he asked, his eyes nearly popping out of his head as they searched the gathering and fell on him. "So you DO believe!"

"Yeah," Gladio replied with a slight smile, hoping that would get him to move. "Yeah, I believe."

"You see what I'm doing here, High Commander?" the second guy asked from his seat at the table. Gladio squinted into the streetlight to see him packing cucumber spears into about two dozen jars half-filled with what looked like pickling liquid.

"Yeah. Sorry, but I really gotta get—"

"This here's a testament to science. It's because someone discovered that keeping food in stocks of salt that I can keep these cucumbers good for another six weeks—longer if I wanted to can them. It's an investment in the future."

"You got a point?" he huffed, growing impatient as the other seven or so people began sidling their way around the sandwich-board guy and back into the crowd.

"The King is gone. Some magical panacea isn't going to save us from all our sins. It's my job to stay alive until ESI finds a cure. You wanna buy a jar, brother? I could use a little meat you Guardians bring in. Gil's no use to anyone these days."

"Duke Scientia holds the key!" the other man argued, his tongue tripping over the words in a rush to get them out. "His eyes see the darkness ordinary man does not. He sees the future! Just you wait and see, the One True King will arise and bring back the dawn."

"Yeah, um, listen—" Gladio began, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Gladio!" Prompto's voice rang out over the square, and Gladio followed the sound of the shout to find him flinging his hands wildly through the air as he balanced on the edge of the fountain in the middle of Leville Square. He leaped down like he was still twenty fucking years old and skipped up to his side. "Iggy's waitin' for us. Come on."

A couple of slaps to Gladio's shoulder, and he was skipping back up to the fountain edge toward the alley that would lead them to the main road. Saved from finding some way to politely excuse himself from this weird-ass conversation, Gladio sidestepped around sandwich-board guy with a polite nod and followed.

"See you've had a chance to rest since everything happened. You finally givin' up on that sorry excuse for a goatee?" Gladio asked when they'd entered the quieter alley.

Prompto pushed his lips into a pout. "Yeah. Delilah didn't like it. Said I didn't need facial hair to look older."

"Ouch. I'm sure she didn't mean it like that."

"Nah, I'm sure she didn't!"

"You gotta admit though—that shit looked like rows of corn growin' on your face."

"Was it really that bad? Ha ha. Guess it's good I shaved, then." He shuffled to the side to bump Gladio's elbow with his shoulder. "How ya feelin'? We were worried about you when you disappeared."

"Better. Just needed to sleep it off. Sorry about not leavin' word."

"We got the message from Iris, so it's cool. She was kinda weird about where you were though. At a girl's house?"

Gladio only grunted in response.

"Ooh, was it Nelly? Or maybe . . . Jessica?"

"Why not both?" he laughed, reaching out to ruffle Prompto's blonde spikes and doing his best not to wonder if Nelly and Jessica were even still alive, but the kid ducked outta his reach before he could make contact.

"Ha ha! Earnin' yourself quite the reputation!" Prompto laughed back, punching him on the shoulder.

"Hey. I'm known for more than that. Got myself another sigil the other day."

"Me too. Which one did you get?"

"The Fierce. You?"

"The Clever. Whoop de doo. I mean, considering all the power they have and how much the world needs us to win, you'd think they'd be fighting alongside us, ya know?" he said with a grimace. "I heard Iggy's gotten 'em all . . . except . . .."

"Yeah."

Gladio had earned a symbol of favor from each of the thirteen Old Kings except for the Wise, the Rogue, the Oracle, and King Regis, who the people had dubbed 'The Father.' Every sigil he'd earned came with a quick chat with a ghost king about how sorry they were they couldn't do more, but 'here ya go, little human, for doing good work in my name.' Some of the sigils Gladio had gotten he couldn't even use because he wasn't a magic user, and of course, they were non-transferrable. It wasn't like he'd expected some kinda special treatment for doing his job, but Noct would be sacrificing himself to do this— _all four_ of them would probably die to bring back the dawn. Maybe it was true that they couldn't do more to help because they were saving their power for that day when the prophecy came true, but he was getting tired of . . . no, that was it—just _tired_.

Whatever. He wasn't doing this for King Regis anymore. His loyalty had narrowed to fulfilling the promise he'd made to his dad and Noct, to fighting for the lives of his family—blood and chosen both.

Iggy was still waiting, however, . . . patiently as always, for a word from the man he'd once considered a father. Gladio couldn't begin to wonder exactly what it was he'd expected to hear from the king that had sent them all off on this journey knowing full-well that their lives would never be the same again. A two-week bachelor party had turned into a ten-year nightmare without a single word, and Gladio couldn't help but think he wouldn't even _want_ to hear a word from his king after all this time.

Despite all that had happened in the last week, the office looked identical as he settled down in the high-back leather armchair across from Iggy's desk with a sigh.

Well . . . nearly identical.

453,257 people left on this eos. Of course Ig would've updated the count to reflect their most recent losses.

"I must beg your pardon. I'll be with you in just a moment," Iggy said softly. He was hunched low over his desk, his fingers nearly a blur over his tablet as his heavy, bloodshot eyes darted back and forth over the screen.

No matter what they went through together, it seemed like some things never changed. Gladio raised an eyebrow at Prompto, who rolled his eyes. "It's us, man. No need for formalities."

"I appreciate your leniency. Would you care for a coffee?" he asked, his fingers only slowing minutely.

"Uh . . . you still have that?" Prompto asked. "Sure."

The chances that he was only offering because he wanted one himself and didn't want to appear rude were pretty high, so Gladio nodded and stood. "I got it, Ig," he said as he headed toward the corner, where a coffee maker was dripping its final dregs into the carafe below.

"Thank you, Gladio," he let out on a relieved sigh, his tone mimicking that of a smoker who'd just been offered his first cigarette of the day. "One of the perks of my position. I daresay Laura has enough coffee to see this government through ten of my lifetimes."

"How is she after that fire stunt she pulled? Heard she was well enough to leave town."

"She's . . .," the dull thuds of his fingers on the keys paused, and Gladio looked up from adding Prompto's cream and sugar to see his sharp frown. ". . . managing. She only left because there's some aspect of her experiment she needed to return to immediately."

"And your dad?" Prompto added quietly, nodding his thanks as Gladio set the delicate cup and saucer in front of him.

Iggy let out a long sigh and pulled the stand from beneath the tablet, folding it closed. With a grateful nod, he reached over the desk strewn with books and papers to take the cup and saucer Gladio was holding out to him. He brought it to his lips, closing his eyes and breathing deeply before taking a sip.

"The injury itself is negligible—a bite to the shoulder already healed by Delilah. Whether or not he is infected, however, whether we're _all_ infected, is another matter. He's sequestered himself in his home and is setting his affairs in order, just in case."

"Pretty sure the four of us are good," Gladio said. "Probably the Glaives, too. Everyone else . . . how many were injured here in Lestallum?"

"One hundred and thirty-seven who will admit to it. I expect those protected by the Crystal to make a full recovery. King Venetus, however, can only lay a distant claim to the blood of the Oracle. I suppose we'll know more in a month regardless."

"How're you gonna handle this? Shouldn't everyone bitten be separated or something?" Prompto asked.

"At least confined to their houses—minimize the damage if someone turns," Gladio added.

Iggy shook his head. "It's best for now if we go about business as usual. An individual with stage one infection would be easier to discover and track should they suddenly deviate from their daily routine. Our more concerning problem is Quarantine Division. We were already experiencing deficiencies before the attack."

"We got a guy from ESI making more of the sleeping compound, don't we? Paul?" Prompto asked. "And it's not like we don't have the plants from Myrlwood to make the stuff."

"Yes, and I've requested Laura and Kimya carve aside some time to dedicate to the task as well. The problem lies in the training required to handle ingredients properly, and as you know, many of the ESI, like Dr. Yeagre, have been killed while collecting data or doing research."

"We're gonna have to find more people then who'd be willing to train for it," Gladio said reluctantly, shoving aside the last memory he had of Sania—her hair loose and wild as she tried to eat and take notes across the breakfast table from him.

"His position is the highest priority for the apprenticeship program," Iggy said. "Which, unfortunately, slows him down, as he is forced to keep records of his processes, but the amount of knowledge this civilization has lost in so short a time already alarms me."

"Yeah, just look what happened to Solheim," Prompto said with a half-hearted laugh. "We would've been flyin' to planet Xegart or somethin' like in Laura's stories if we hadn't lost all that knowledge."

"More to the point, we're in very real danger of losing that which we require to maintain at the very least a veneer of civilization," Iggy said, his tone growing in volume and determination as he locked eyes with Gladio. "I'll not see us cast aside decency and fall to barbarism."

"No, I get it, I do. You're right," Gladio said.

He'd always despise the need for Quarantine, but faced with the prospect of it going under and the alternatives they would have left to them . . . the ability to preserve a man's dignity and humanity peacefully was a small mercy. What would become of his soul if he was to be put in the position of handling his soldiers and the citizens he'd sworn to protect with the edge of his own blade? He shuddered in his chair, hoping with everything he could muster that it wouldn't come to that.

The room grew quiet for a few seconds as each of them nursed their coffee. Gladio blew across his cup, watching the ripples pile up over the surface of the dark liquid before taking a cautious sip.

"Any news on Noct?" Prompto asked quietly.

Iggy let his eyes drift down the cup cradled in both his hands. "No, though we still have the Glaives holding Galdin. I'm told Gentiana and Bahamut himself make an appearance there from time to time."

"Typical of that snot-nosed brat to keep us waiting," Gladio said with a humorless chuckle, and the other two weakly joined in, choosing not to acknowledge what that would mean for them all. But one look at Iggy's flared nostrils and barely-concealed expression of a man being tortured to death, and Gladio grew serious. "It was a long shot—even more than that, if Laura's rules of time shit is anything to go by. You gotta know this doesn't constitute a failure on your part."

"Yeah," Prompto added. "Even King Regis didn't expect you to keep your promise like that. It's totally not your fault."

"I've had almost ten years to mourn him and prepare myself for this possibility," he said in a near whisper. "Yet I still hold fast to hope."

"You got somethin' up your sleeve?" Gladio asked.

Iggy threw his head back to drain his cup before setting it carefully down on the saucer between a pile of half-rotten books and a stack of reports. "I'm afraid . . . not," he ground out distastefully.

"You got a plan for when he wakes up? Gonna have the Glaives escort him here?"

Iggy shook his head. "I've left a note with Umbra to deliver to him when he awakens, instructing him to meet us in Hammerhead. The Crystal should let Laura know when the time arrives so that we may ready ourselves. Please keep your radios on you at all times and be prepared to get to Hammerhead at a moment's notice."

"You really think that's a good idea? Having him find a way to Hammerhead alone with the daemons out?" Prompto asked.

"I've received assurances from Gentiana that he won't be without an escort, and we'll need some small amount of time to prepare ourselves . . . for the battle."

And prepare themselves for their king's death.

 _No. Suck it up. Don't think about it. Handle shit as it comes._

"So . . . what do we do next?" Prompto asked.

"I'm glad you asked. There were several vehicles badly damaged in the attacks, as you know—"

"Yeah. Cindy and me've been workin' around the clock to get 'em back in shape, but it's gonna take another . . . week, maybe?" he said, screwing up his face in doubt as he scratched the back of his head roughly. "Specially with me over here and us kinda runnin' low on parts."

"Yes, and as to that—the reason I've called you here. I have Miss Cindy working on clearing the backlog in Hammerhead, and I've sent the damaged weapons to Cid in Caem. However, there are still several vehicles and weapons in need of repair at the petrol station across the street."

Gladio leaned forward to interrupt. "Yeah, did anyone pick up our truck at Pullmoor? It should be salvageable."

"Yes," Iggy answered. "I sent a team out yesterday to retrieve it, and it, too, is awaiting repairs across the street."

"Yikes, and you want me to use Cid's spare thingy and the tools there and get to work, huh?" Prompto asked.

"If you please."

Prompto immediately leapt from his seat, drained his coffee, and nearly dropped it on the corner of the desk. The cup rattled on its saucer for a couple of seconds as Prompto flailed forward to steady it and say, "Well then I better get goin'!" He straightened once the porcelain had grown still. "I'll get the lay of the land and have a report to ya tonight or first thing tomorrow, kay?"

"I would appreciate that, thank you."

Gladio waited until Prompto had bounced his way out the door and shut it behind him before he said, "Bags under his eyes and looks like he hasn't slept in a week, but he still acts like a four-year-old who's had one too many cactuar cakes."

The corner of Iggy's lips twitched into a half-hearted smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

He fixed Iggy with a calculating look. "You look like shit, too, ya know."

"I've been sleeping at my desk since the incidents. I'm afraid I . . . this is entirely my fault. We always knew this day would come," he said in a low, defeated tone, leaning forward to slump over his desk, place his head in his hands, and close his eyes. He rubbed slowly at his temples as he added, "The grid was an easily-targeted weak point, and it was our responsibility to minimize the losses when the moment came. Even on this side of the disaster, I'm not certain I made the correct calls."

"It's my job to dispatch Guardians too," he said gently. "I know you and me had plenty of shit to disagree about over the years, but here . . . you did the best you could." He chuckled as he stood, taking Prompto's and Iggy's cups and saucers and heading to the corner. "Not all the people are blaming you. Matter of fact, some are heralding you as some sort of gods damn prophet."

"Give it time for the high of survival to settle. The critiques will begin soon, and I'll have to pretend that we executed every maneuver perfectly as I offer up empty words for those we lost."

"'A king pushes onward, always, accepting the consequences and never looking back.' You know that better than any of us."

Iggy lifted his head from where he'd collapsed onto his desk, an intense expression pulling the corners of his mouth down. "I must ask you to forgive my impertinence, but His Majesty was full of shit."

Gladio froze in front of the coffee maker and counted out a full fifteen seconds of silence between them before he finally accepted that Ignis wasn't going to add anything else to that statement. "You wanna elaborate or . . .?"

"While I believe it's important for a leader to move forward, it is equally imperative that they also remember and learn from their mistakes, even if they cannot admit to them publicly," he said with the weight of a man who'd learned such a lesson the hard way. "King Regis, who I believe to have been a good man at heart, was ultimately a flawed man whose words should not be taken at the level of the gods—which is, in fact, a questionable practice in and of itself these days."

He set the full cup of coffee next to Iggy's elbow, placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, and squeezed tightly.

"What're you gonna do if your dad . . .?"

"I don't _know_ ," Iggy interrupted. "My duty to the Lucian crown is older, and yet my obligation to the Tenebraean throne is now bound by blood. Even if things were to work out neatly and Noct survives somehow, I'm still bound to Lucis through my previous pledge."

"Might work out for the best if the Lucians demand their democracy after all. It wouldn't be on you anymore, and it's not like Noct ever had any interest in becoming King, either."

Iggy's expression grew hard as his gaze turned inward. "I know that," he snapped under his breath, before he let his eyes fall closed. Displacing his glasses with a thumb and forefinger, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose for a moment and took a deep breath. "Apologies to the both of you. I wasn't speaking to you, Gladio."

"She agrees with me, doesn't she?"

"She always has, and I fear I've begun to come around to your way of thinking. I gave my word to His Majesty regarding _Noct_ , not Lucis. Should the people come to demand their independence from the monarchy vehemently, I intend to bow out gracefully. However, I don't believe they will as long as the hope of Noct returning lives."

Gladio kept his mouth shut for a few seconds, mulling over exactly what it was he wanted to say. "You know, something's happened to you," Gladio said thoughtfully, examining those same blood-shot, heavy-ringed eyes and that same sallow skin he used to see back home when they were still kids, but something was different now than those days. "You were always the smartest of all of us—gods damn genius, you are—but you were stuck picking up that kid's apartment and cooking his breakfast and filling out his paperwork."

"It was my responsibility to—"

"To turn that kid into a king, and you did—we did. But this?" Gladio shook his head. "You were always meant to be this. Let's face it. The way things went down, you were pretty much born to wear one crown on your head or another."

Iggy's eyes drifted away toward the window, perpetually black and shuttered. Even Gladio could recognize the devastation hidden in the depth of his expression, but he couldn't begin to fathom a reason for it. "No, I wasn't."

The sentiment made perfect sense, just not from him. That deep desire to do one's duty and live up to expectations drove every soldier, every servant to the Crown to keep crawling through the mud and guts long after any regular citizen would've given in and died. Until this moment, Gladio had believed himself the only servant to also nurse that whispering voice in the back of his head that wished for something different. As much as he wanted to say he'd never paid that voice any heed, the fact that he knew for certain he wanted nothing more in this world than to take Aranea out to the wilderness of Myrl and live a safe, happy life in those green fields with the sun shining down on them proved that he'd spent far too much time indulging himself in fantasies. Were either of them even capable of living that life anymore? Of falling asleep under the stars with the blades of their past still clenched between their teeth?

Despite how much he wanted to make his dad proud, to serve his king, and to do his duty, he couldn't erase that secret part of him, but never in his life did he ever think he would hear similar sentiments leave Iggy's lips. He'd thought that this sort of thing was what Ignis had been striving for since he was six years old.

"Do you know Paul?" Iggy asked suddenly.

Gladio furrowed his brow at him. "The guy we got making the meds for Quarantine?"

"Yes. Did you know that he dreamed of becoming a real chef one day?"

"Think I remember Laura mentioning it when we were on the train to Niflheim."

"Now he toils day and night helping us to manufacture narcotics to peacefully murder innocent people. He hardly cooks a meal for himself these days. Even your own sister wishes she could be something more than she is—in a position similar to yours or mine, and though I do my best to teach her the skills she needs to accomplish those goals, life _always_ manages to interfere."

"You got a point?"

Iggy looked down at the desk, shaking his head and chuckling bitterly. "For once in my life, no. I suppose just that . . . though I may have given my all to achieve a stable government, don't believe for a moment that I wished for any part of it. I thought you, of all people, understood: we're all doing what we must in times such as these, but that doesn't mean it's who we wished we could be."

"Been hearin' you say it, but I guess it never sunk in. Never wanted to believe you could be so gods damn good at all of it and not even want it while I always . . . had to fight for it."

"Ardyn Izunia might be the first to tell you that gifts aren't always blessings. Sometimes, they can very much be a curse."

Gladio sighed, running his fingers through his long hair as he sat back in his seat. "You ever think . . . Paul will get the chance to be a chef one day? You know, we're running outta time here. We're all getting dangerously close to middle age."

"Yes, we are," he noted mildly. "But even should things settle into the most optimal pattern, I fear circumstances will always require . . . Paul to serve in other capacities for the sake of mankind."

"Maybe he'll figure out a way to do both."

"Perhaps."

"Then again," he added, nodding towards Iggy's face—nearly completely unchanged these past ten years, "dunno about you. Maybe you got more time than the rest of us. Maybe you're not as middle aged as you thought."

"I assure you, I am. You simply see me too often to notice the changes," he muttered, looking down into his lap.

"Maybe, but it doesn't look to me like you're aging like the rest of us. Might be nice if your lifespan matched hers."

"Please," he pleaded to his knees, his voice cracking in his throat. "Don't raise false hopes." His tone grew steady and business-like as he sat up straight and readied his tablet. "Now . . . onto the topic of situating the people so that they're more defensible. I was thinking we're far too spread out as we are now . . .."

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

The power grid really is situated so that a single station could take out half of Lucis. Seemed a bit odd.

I always like to operate on the idea that the city you visit is merely a representation and doesn't truly show its full size (Where is the library/hospital/bathroom in Lestallum? One or two hotel rooms per hotel?). So the loss of Galdin Quay would be bigger than just the single building.

The MTs aren't actually converted humans, but I thought I would do something different with them, since they have bones.


	95. Chapter 95

**Final Starscourge Pathology Report**

P.I. Dr. Sania Yeagre

C.I. Dr. Laura Scientia

17 June 756

 **Components:**

 _Plasmodium malariae_ —Naturally-occurring plasmodial parasites originating from nipmoths. Introduces infectious disease known as malaria and is part of the lifecycle of the disease. Though malarial plasmodium is why the scourge exists, it is not part of the Starscourge itself.

Voidmatter—Black, viscous fluid originating from the Cauthess Meteor that fell at the onset of the Astral War. Myth from Pitioss states that it comes from the Crystal Space and represents the darkness placed in all human beings upon creation. Responsible for corruption of weapons, mind control, source of photophilic particles. Tests of the full scope of this component's abilities are still being conducted.

 _Rabies lyssavirus_ —Responsible for patient presenting with photophobia and violent tendencies in second and third stages, which facilitates transmission to others via biting.

Synthetic T-cell—Bioengineered by Solheim to eradicate malaria from _Plasmodium malariae_ in nipmoths, which were used as the delivery agent in Patient Zero's case. Incorrectly engineered and is instead acts as an intron virus responsible for the transformation in humans. Beings with even trace amounts of DNA in the fourth dimension are immune to this portion of the disease and are thus not subject to transformation.

 **Transmission:**

It is hypothesized that all humans on the planet possess some measure of non-transformational elements of the disease through tainted meat, plant, and water ingestion. Blood levels of these non-transformational elements play a decisive role in whether the patient succumbs when exposed to transformational elements of the disease.

Transformational Starscourge is transmitted via body fluids from a patient in the second or third stage of infection, a transformed daemon, or a bite directly from a nipmoth (near-extinct—found only in Keycatrich mines).

Some patients exhibit immunity to the full transformational virus based on: viral load received; age and health of patient; concentration of non-transformational elements already present in bloodstream;whether patient has been previously infected and disease set dormant by the Oracle; levels of serotonin, norepinephrine, and cortisol in the body; levels of magic or Crystal protection on the individual.

 **Symptoms:**

First Stage: Noncontagious

Symptoms: sudden onset of odd thoughts, muscle spasms, abnormal postures, weakness, extreme sensitivity to bright lights/ sounds/ touch, increased production of saliva or tears, headaches

Second Stage: Contagious

Symptoms: irritability, aggressiveness, insomnia, confusion, hallucinations, seizures, difficulty speaking or remembering words, excessive movements or agitation, black pulsing patches of skin, bulging veins

Note that in late second stage, the hemorrhagic effect of waste products from the virus running its course through the body will cause veins to become more prominent, with this waste eventually leaking out of orifices. The onset of the third stage is swift and imminent at this point.

Third Stage: Contagious

Patient presents a clear and present danger to the population. Onset is sudden and unpredictable.

Symptoms: exuding black cloudlike substance known as miasma, violent tendencies, near-complete loss of self (varies per individual) before body disappears into the ground in a pool of miasma—leaving personal items behind. Any reappearance is in full daemon form.

 **Infection:**

1\. Plasmodium and rabies infect the patient initially. The synthetic T-cell responsible for the intron virus detects and recognizes the threat, and the immune system mounts its counterattack by flooding the system with T-cells reproduced by the body identical to the synthetic T-cell.

2\. Instead of activating the gene for immunity for malaria, the synthetic and reproduced T-cells invade genetic codes and activate _all_ latent introns—genetic codes which are normally dormant, evolutionary holdovers—sequences of DNA which provided key behavioral and physical characteristics millions of years ago but are no longer necessary to human evolution. The immune system fights off the plasmodium, clearing the patient of any malarial infection.

3\. DNA recombines into an earlier configuration—any one of a number of stages during human evolutionary history. Each of these stages, each daemon type, is another link in the evolutionary chain which stretches back to the origins of all life-forms on Eos. Because introns can include genetic material from many different species over millions of years of evolution, it's possible for a wide variety of transformations to occur among the population.

 **Transformation:**

The daemon the patient becomes is a genetic throwback—an option that evolution rejected millions of years ago, but the potential is still hidden within genes. Similarities in genetic patterning and commonalities in the gene pool in geographical regions explains the concentrations of certain daemon types in certain areas.

 **Cure:**

It would be possible to use the amniotic fluid of an uninfected patient as a template for a retrovirus, which would neutralize the synthetic T-cell and re-establish the genetic patterns of each host. This would require equipment capable of genetic resequencing and nucleotide substitution—technology this civilization is not yet capable of and will not be invented before mankind becomes extinct.

* * *

Even though the bone-deep chill in the air didn't touch his nerves under the Crownsguard blazer, a puff of fog escaped his lips as he released his breath in a sigh toward the paper in his hands. The ancient rolling office chair squeaked in protest as he leaned back further, lifting a sahagin-skinned boot off the desk to cross his legs at the ankle.

He let his eyes wander over the unpainted wooden walls—their shelves lined with various labeled glass jars, beakers, instruments taken from Besithia's lab, and a whiteboard proudly displaying the number 416,739. The outlook was far bleaker for humanity than he could have imagined after the outbreak across Eos, which had followed approximately one month after the Siege of Lucis. Never had he envisioned a scenario where the Starscourge could be identified—its components separated and explained so completely and yet . . . they were no closer to curing the ailing human race than they had been when they'd begun.

He flipped back to the front page of the report—so much simpler than the meandering ramblings of the madman he was accustomed to reading—and flicked a finger against the note stuck to the top of the page.

A hurried, untidy scrawl read: _What do you think of the layout? And when can I send my guy out there to take some pictures to go with this? You'd be the talk of the town, kid, thanks to those photos. –Vyv_

Just below on the same sticky note, a flowing cursive responded: _No photos, please, and I would appreciate it if you would remove my name from the report. This was all possible due to Sania's data collection. The layout looks good. Thank you. –Laura_

The muffled sound of hurried footsteps approaching the door of the cramped laboratory made him drop his shoes from her paper-strewn desk and sit up suddenly, arranging any stray strands of his pompadour he could detect through his gloved hands. He pulled his lips into a gentle, affectionate smile when she opened the door to the shack and stepped inside.

"Hello, dear," he said softly as he rose to greet her. "I've been waiting. Was your journey troubled?"

She flicked her heavy black plait over her shoulder as she pulled the door shut and turned to regard him with a neutral expression. Was this not his typical behavior? Perhaps . . . he took a step forward to pull her in to brush his lips against her cheek, but he wasn't terribly surprised when a stabbing flash of silver light brought a falchion to her hand.

"Surely you didn't think I would fall for that," she said in a low voice, pressing the edge of the gleaming blade just against his jugular. "Ardyn Lucis Caelum Izunia."

Ardyn's smile spread to a scourge-dripping leer—doubtless an uncanny expression on the Advisor's customarily fossilized face. "Come now. What sort of a man would I be if I didn't at least make an attempt? And I would prefer simply 'Izunia,' if you don't mind. I bask not in the light of the gifts from the gods."

With a scowl that twisted her features, she stalked toward her desk, searching the surface for anything he might have touched. "Take that face off," she snapped irritably. "It suits neither you nor him."

"As you wish."

Removing the Advisor's visage was merely a matter of gazing into his own soul as though contemplating a looking glass. The illusion shifted to accommodate his will, his customary aubergine hair lengthening in his peripheral vision until truth was revealed once more.

"I was astonished to discover you were capable of seeing the illusion at all. I thought certainly the gods' power transcended beyond being fooled by parlor tricks."

"Ugh," she scoffed, pausing in her examination of the desk to glare at him. "Don't tell me you're back to believing such nonsense. I'm not one of your Six . . . or Nine, as it were."

"No, my dear. The veil is lifted, and I believe we see each other for what we truly are now."

"I'm surprised it took you this long to find me."

"Has it ever occurred to you I wasn't searching until now? I do have far better hobbies to occupy my time—surely you know that."

"Somehow, I doubt that," she said with a snort.

Ardyn scowled and stepped forward. "A hydroelectric system _this_ far from any civilization is sure to draw attention. Please, kindly adjust your estimation of my intelligence. Why, I could have found you in mere moments, had I wished."

She gave him a demure smile in response. "So now that you've carved time out of your busy schedule to come and find me, what are you going to do with me?"

He tossed himself back into her office chair, allowing it to roll away a meter or so before coming to rest in the middle of the floor.

"Is that an offer?"

"You know better than that," she shot back, curling her lip in disgust.

He placed his hands casually behind his head as he stretched his long legs as far out as he could. "Though you may not appear in the prophecy, I would see you at its end, after all we've been through." Tilting his head curiously up at her, he said in a soft, musing tone, "It's rather odd that you don't appear in the painting, isn't it? Why do you suppose that is?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she purred, turning her head so she could fix him with a sassy smirk from the side of her eye.

"I would."

Her attention dropped down to the desk beneath her hand, her fingers pushing and adjusting idly at several stacks of paper. "Will you tell me if you intend to let the prophecy play out as it should, or will you put up a fight?"

'As it should?' Evidence found right here in this very shack implied that she aimed to at least _attempt_ to circumvent prophecy, but he intended to save that inquiry for when he was finished with this current enigma tickling at his thoughts. Either way it ended, Ardyn's moment was near at hand—even the most insensate servants of the Crystal could feel it approaching, and yet he still hadn't made his decision. Clearly, humanity survived at his whim. His options were to either grant the sickly species clemency by allowing them to recover enough to lick their wounds or to win outright and take all of humanity down with him with a single, clean sweep. Though an uncontested victory would earn him the ending he deserved after all these years, for certain, who would be alive to tell the tale?

No—he'd already been erased from history once. He would allow a few trembling men and weeping babes to survive so they could whisper his name on the darkest of nights. Of course, he'd never tell _her_ he'd reached that conclusion.

No, the question remained whether he should demand that the little king's retinue join him in death.

"What difference would it make?" he asked with a shrug, reveling in the appearance of her darkening expression. "We both know how this is meant to end."

"Because I am obligated to protect this planet and its people."

"Well then, what fun would it be if I told you?"

"Then allow me to keep my secrets as well."

"So . . .," he drawled, "there _is_ a reason you don't appear on that wall in the Hall of History."

"What fun would it be if I told you?" she shot back.

As her fingers found the edges of the report he'd just read, he decided it would be a perfect opportunity to change the subject, for as usual, he was getting nowhere with her. "A very interesting read, 'Dr. Scientia.' As a man who has spent some number of years among venerated men and women of science, I must say I'm rather impressed with the work you've done—almost _otherworldly_ in terms of advancements in the field."

"'Venerated,'" she mumbled, the sound of it spasming with ironic humor. "I'm trying to do work at least three thousand years ahead of its time on equipment taken from a high school biology classroom masquerading as a mad scientist's lab. Where'd Besithia even get all that stuff, anyway? Halloween World?"

He chose to ignore the unfamiliar word in her statement for appearance's sake. "Why, I'll have you know that was considered cutting-edge," he said with feral twinkle in his eye.

"Ha! I've basically got a microscope and a couple of petri dishes to work with here. I had to reinvent an entire fracking branch of medicine."

"Surely, you come across _some_ technological advancements in your travels."

"Of course I have," she scoffed. "Run across genomic resequencers all the time."

"Then why not use one to save those left? Are you so stubborn and cold that you would allow your pride to end the human race?"

"Because if I use one to save this world, I end it anyway." Waving a vague, casual hand in the air, she said, "S'complicated. You wouldn't understand, but I don't even pick up stuff like that so I'm not even tempted."

"Ahhh, but I think I might understand," he sighed, leaning back further into the chair. "The shining kingdom of Lucis was always led away from scientific advances. What little they had was only due to Niflheim's—my—generosity. The gods kept a careful distance this time—didn't care to repeat the hubris of Solheim, you see."

Seemingly satisfied with the contents of her desk, she took a step back to lean against the wall, shaking her head with a rueful smile. "And to think—this only happened because one incompetent scientist decided he had to cure malaria. If only they'd left well enough alone."

"My people believed the scourge to be a curse from the gods, you know, as punishment for Solheim's sins. It turned out that they were quite right to label us ignorant savages," he said, tilting his head back to stare at the bare, unpainted ceiling. "But a number of incidents led us to where we are today. Not merely the actions of Solheim, but of the gods themselves."

"And yours, Aera's, and your brother's," she added flatly.

His joviality fell away to reveal the smallest glimpse of that dark, foreboding creature he kept shackled within him. "You blame _me_ for not wishing to become a sacrifice for the sins of others? What of that poor unfortunate soul you have imprisoned in your little cottage?" he demanded, thrusting his chin in the direction of the Witch's pathetic excuse for a cabin, mere steps away from the shack of a laboratory they were currently in. Though he hadn't managed to lay eyes on the condemned, Ardyn could feel the daemonified human's soul hovering on the edge of this realm even from this distance. It would be ripe for him to consume so very soon . . . a week, perhaps? Less? "Would you condemn that creature as well when they have done no wrong, for not submitting themselves to your Quarantine?"

"Your actions from killing Aera onward are certainly culpable and cannot be forgotten. And, for now, I'm using him as a test subject," she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders, and if the burning ball of anger bubbling up his gut would have allowed it, he would have applauded her acting ability.

"Don't lie to me, girl," he growled, snapping his head up suddenly to snarl at her. "You aren't studying him at all. Energy readings, compatibility reports . . . you aim to take the dear little King's place. Surely you must know, Anathema, that will never work."

"Don't call me that, and it's none of your business," she said, clenching her fists at her sides. She took several small breaths through parted lips and gritted teeth before she regained her composure. "As to the man, he'll die along with the rest when his son gets here . . . unless you want to do the right thing for once and heal him."

Satisfied that she was being truthful once again, he released his rage—for now—in an effort to keep her guessing as to his aim. He relaxed back into his chair once more and said, "And what would become of me if I were to do such a thing? Night and day, the people would be begging at my door. I'd never get a moment's peace."

Laura Ni'annen pushed herself off the wall, the starlight in her eyes growing cold. "I'm running out of time. I'm running out of options."

Though he was well-aware of the potential danger in the situation, he had to admit that his interest had piqued at her mercurial shift in tone. It had been a fruitless ten years, after all, and he was growing weary of the status quo. "I fail to see how that falls within the purview of my interests."

"I could make it your problem."

The clever response he was only just beginning to formulate died on his lips as she leapt at him like a feral coeurl, landing on his chest and tipping them both over in the chair so that he fell hard on his back and slid across the wooden floor. He came to rest beneath a stainless-steel table covered in glass beakers with her very warm body straddling his middle and the air from her breath releasing in soft, steady puffs to caress his lips.

"Eos," he whispered, closing his eyes.

She brought a hand around to his neck and lowered her forehead to touch his without a word. The tendrils of her hair that framed her face tickled at his cheeks as her long, heavy braid draped over his shoulder and coiled near his left ear. The slumbering silver fire in the back of his head was whispering that he had gone too far, but it didn't matter. He was being immolated, but in that moment, risking the quality of the rest of his life had never felt so close to dying.

He felt alive.

"Do you feel it?" she whispered, sliding her fingers across his bristled jaw to frame either side of his ears in the most peculiar fashion. As they came to rest on his temples and back of his head, he _could_ feel it—closer than ever before, rearing up from the furthest edges of his consciousness like an untamed creature called forth.

"Yes, you do feel it, don't you? I didn't think you'd be capable," she murmured deceptively warmly, the vibration from her voice sparking electricity across his skin and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He shivered at the chill suddenly seeping into his bones as she continued to scorch a blinding path through his head.

With the very tip of a delicate finger, she traced the edge of his jawline. "To know the face of god is to know madness. Time and space, light and dark, life and death. I am everything and nothing, and I can kill you with both and neither."

He knew.

He'd known that for all her disdain for the concept of divinity, her very existence was defined by it. She _was_ the embodiment of time. Gold and silver lines of time twisted and looped in on themselves, devouring one another, undulating backward and forward to create shapes no human mind could fathom or contemplate. He saw the birth and the death of his planet, of his universe, as it exploded into clouds of gas and cosmic dust and starlight from stars that hadn't been born yet—only to slowly fade in that long, inevitable march until existence was reduced to nothing in order to begin anew.

In that moment, they were the multiverse together. But the wonder was replaced with visceral terror with the eruption of a black hole of wondrous chaos threatening to inhale his being.

"I do not fear death," he gasped, bringing his hand up to caress her cheek—in a manner that might have been considered an intimate gesture to some. The implied threat proved effective, as she stiffened, the clamorous cacophony in his head going suddenly still. "Do you?"

His threat was empty; they both knew it. Scourging her might slake his desire to establish dominance in this dynamic, but his victory would only be temporary, as it had been in Altissia. Still—the prospect of having to recover during a time when she was so clearly needed should be enough to tranquilize her wrath and allow him to regain some measure of control.

"No, you fear life," she answered on an exhale, her fingertips digging into his temples. Her voice grew quiet and dark. "Do it. I dare you. I'll snuff you out and walk away just as I did before."

They lay in what appeared to be a passionate embrace, but this encounter was a mockery, as had most of their encounters had thus far. Their youth was counterfeit, and their loving embrace merely an impasse of mutually assured destruction . . . of a sort. As always, he wasn't certain how they'd gotten themselves in this position, but he wouldn't yield now.

"What happens now, then?" he asked.

A slam interrupted the silence and spared them the burden of finding out.

"I said no!" the sharp bark of the Advisor cut through the tension wrapping them together like steel cables. He counted two long strides of heeled boots against fresh pine before her body was ripped away from him. "Have you gone _completely_ mad?!"

Ardyn stood, taking his time to adjust his many layers and, just to irritate the boy, pay extra attention to his trousers.

"Well, my dear," he said on a fatigued sigh. "It seems as though the cuckold has returned early to spoil our fun. Such a shame."

"You know that's not going to work . . .," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Knowing a plan will be ineffective doesn't seem to have dissuaded you, my dear." On seeing the Advisor's brow furrow in ignorance, Ardyn spotted the opportunity to sow a little dissention and added, "As I said before, Anathema, you cannot take Noct's place."

"We have enough to deal with today without _you_ here," the Advisor growled, placing himself between Ardyn and the girl in that inutile display of masculine aggression that was so terribly trite and tiresome.

"Ah, yes, you await a son's arrival, do you not?" He strolled to the open door and turned back to flash them a triumphant smile. "Speaking of fathers and sons, I was devastated to hear news of your father's injury. I've not yet heard additional word—is he recovered?"

"I'd file that under 'none of your business' as well," the girl snapped. "Shouldn't you be returning to Insomnia? The hour draws near."

"Indeed, it does. Heed the call when you hear it," he said before swooping to gather his hat, which had rolled near the door when the girl had knocked him over. "Do not delay. I shall be waiting." He tugged on the brim to settle it over his head before pinching the edge in a saucy dip. "A pleasant . . . evening to you."

Without waiting for a response, he spun around and strolled into the welcoming frost and black of night.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

There's a bit of dialogue taken from the Star Trek episode "Genesis" and the Doctor Who episode "The Lazarus Experiment," and as always, an enormous thank you to OS from the reddit Discord server for talking through this with me. This pathology is completely made up, absolutely not canon (if you're looking for canon, you're pretty much stuck with the mutated malaria strain explanation).

Scourge affecting regular weapons is lore from Comrades.

I made a graphic with the life cycle of the virus, but FFN doesn't like embeds. I intend to post it in my AO3 update if you were feeling curious.


	96. Chapter 96

**Author's Note:**

Warning: Angst and character death

* * *

Dreams drifted just beyond his grasp, spreading themselves thin across the surface of his memories—beautiful and frightening, tender and violent. It wasn't true what Laura had said—that a man lost his sense of self as the disease progressed. The distillation of his thoughts and feelings rose to the surface and spread across his sight, so vibrant and intense that they consumed his every thought, even when he was asleep. But perhaps his loss of self would have begun had he allowed himself to live long enough to experience it. With each passing hour, it was becoming more and more difficult to hold himself together. Every civil, rational thought was slipping away, reducing him to the instinctual emotions he'd toiled all his life to maintain a tight grip on.

Other than his current infirmity, there were two people in this world with the power to bring out the worst of him—or best of him, depending on whether it was he or Trina being asked. Those two people were his wife and his son.

So he wasn't exactly taken aback when his son's shout cut through his misty state of semi-consciousness, forcing his fist to shoot out of its own accord and slam into the wall next to his bed.

"I said no! Have you gone _completely_ mad?!"

As the pain slowly receded from his skinned knuckles, Venetus shivered violently into his own skin. He'd never been tolerant of arctic climes, but ill as he was combined with the loss of their sun, freezing had described his near-constant state since Laura had brought him out here to die privately. Now that Ignis had arrived, he could end this excruciating wait. Yet for all the time he'd had to prepare for this day, he still had no inkling as to what words to bequeath to his only child.

He'd had only a scant ten years to impart his wisdom on the boy, to be the father he'd sworn he would be when he first held that pink bundle in his arms. That was his own fault . . . more than Trina ever knew. A perfect amalgam of himself and the woman he loved most in this world, and Venetus had unknowingly sacrificed Ignis's entire life with one momentous message that should have had nothing to do with his family.

But how had circumstances come to this?

Life for Tenebraean nobility was supposed to have been a simple matter: do one's duty, avoid drawing the Empire's attention, get married to a respectable member of Tenebraean or Niflian nobility, and have as many children as possible. Venetus Étoile's life had never been simple, but like every noble son growing up in Tenebrae, he'd always done what was asked of him—until he'd met Ustrina Scientia. At the time, he'd convinced himself that the marriage proposal a mere two weeks after having met her was a logical decision—secretly yet formally strengthening diplomatic relations between the two countries. King Regis would always have a Tenebraean ambassador on hand, one in good standing with the Fleurets, capable of leaving and entering the country without raising suspicion—if he was careful.

But it had been a lie. One did not make a logical decision based on the music of a woman's laugh or the verdant color of her eyes, which reminded him of the rolling fields of Tenebrae just before the sylleblossoms painted them in shades of blue. He could still recall the ember set alight in them when she'd finally received permission to leave the safety of the Wall for the first time, a light that hadn't died even after all the hardships they'd endured together since. The privileges her research had granted her were fortuitous, providing even more logical ammunition against his parents, who hadn't approved of the match. He could accompany her on her travels, offering his assistance as he simultaneously became intimately familiar with Lucis for Queen Sylva. They could travel as a respectable Lucian couple.

Yes, logical . . . rational.

His integration into their society had been accomplished delicately, as his duties to facilitate communications between the two monarchs must remain an absolute secret from the Empire. For all intents and purposes, he could not exist to either country, lest the Empire discover Tenebrae's betrayal. So he'd maintained his status as Lord Venetus Étoile, Baron of Ulwaat of Tenebrae—lost somewhere among the ranks of Queen Sylva's mostly decorative standing army. In Lucis, he'd become Ettie Scientia—doting commoner husband and assistant fortunate enough to have captivated the interest of Dame Ustrina (Stupeo) Scientia. Together, they traveled the country, slipping in and out of the Wall to update his queen before setting out on the next adventure.

Those days had been the most exhilarating of his life—brimming with the fire of youth, the passion of young love, and the exhilaration of a horizon stretched out before them teeming with possibilities. He remembered thinking at the time that his life could not get any better.

Until Trina had borne him a son—the last he would ever have, likely, if Trina's complications were indicative of her every pregnancy.

Oh, but his boy had been beautiful—a living, breathing embodiment and testament of the enduring bond he and Trina had shared. Her stunning viridian eyes shone from features that would become chiseled to reflect his own once Ignis had reached manhood. That he wouldn't bear the name Ignis Stupeo Étoile, or even Ignis Étoile Scientia as in the style of the Fleurets, chafed at his pride, but how could he argue when Ifrit himself had descended from the heavens and blessed his boy with a name?

Carrying his name or not, Ignis Stupeo Scientia was his son, and in that, the most joyous moment of Venetus's life, he'd vowed he would do everything in his power to protect him from harm.

He'd shattered that vow when Ignis was not quite nineteen months old. All his fault. If only he'd known the consequences of the message he'd carried from Queen Sylva to King Regis, he would have . . . done _something_.

Fortunately, he and Trina had always been secretive about their marriage due to his position, but each subsequent event in Lucis and Tenebrae merely increased the need for secrecy: the choosing of his son as senior advisor to the future king, the official announcement from the Old Kings that Prince Noctis would be the Chosen King, Queen Aulea's mysterious death, the daemon attack on Prince Noctis from _inside_ the Wall, the attack on Tenebrae, the death of Queen Sylva.

If the Empire learned that a malleable child with the ear of the future king and the blood of the future queen existed . . . oh, Astrals, he hadn't wished to imagine what they could have done to him. It may have broken his heart, but Venetus had held true to his vow to protect his only son—this time by staying away. He'd instructed Caeli to keep watch but also maintain a careful distance so as not to draw attention to the family. Ignis's care was best left in the anonymous yet capable hands of his tutors.

Or so he'd believed. As much as Venetus agreed with Ignis's notion that airing one's private business was a tawdry affair, it had always unsettled him that even after years of Trina's prodding, the boy still refused to breathe a word of his childhood beyond those moments spent with Prince Noctis. What on Eos could have happened that a fearless warrior and steadfast politician considered his formative years too dark to recount?

All his fault.

And clearly, his upbringing did not reflect that which he would have received at home. Ignis's peculiar relationship with his secretive wife had twisted a rational young man with a healthy sense of duty into a rebellious, recalcitrant youth. For all that Laura had proven she was a hardworking, kindhearted woman, Venetus couldn't shake off the voice whispering in his heart that there was something amiss with that girl, with that entire relationship.

Perhaps they would both loosen their tongues long enough to confess their secrets to the condemned today. After all, Venetus only wanted to know that Ignis would be all right after he was gone.

A sharp stab of pain shot up the bones of his right arm, jerking his barely-curled knuckles into the wall. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out at the impact, but his face lurched into the freezing wet patch of spittle that had gathered beneath his lips as he'd slept.

He wasn't certain whether he should be grateful for this extra time afforded him by being blood of the Oracle when so many from the siege had already been euthanized or turned. Had it been a blessing or a curse to take those days with Trina, dreaming about what they would have done when the dawn broke? Now he would only leave her behind with the bitter memories of his empty words as he described all the things he wished they had done together but would never get to. And even with all that additional time, he hadn't the courage to admit how thoroughly he'd betrayed her and Ignis that day.

All his fault.

"What good would it have done to kill him?" Ignis's voice broke through the thin planks of Kimya's cottage—from just outside the window by his head. "You said the same thing to Gladio once—mercy—and I will _not_ see your soul lost in the name of vengeance on my behalf."

"It's not only on your behalf," Laura argued back in a low, heated tone. "I just received word from Vyv. The Glaives were the only ones to survive Galdin. Coctura, Dino . . . gods, that one annoying guy who would always welcome you even if it'd only been five minutes since you'd last stepped into the restaurant . . . they're all daemons. And your father . . . he's been slipping into stage two in the last day, Ignis." Her words choked off at Ignis's name, but she continued in a softer tone. "Ardyn could have done something, but he won't."

"I'll have to inform Navyth immediately. His niece—he'll be inconsolable."

"Ignis, your father . . .."

"I know! You've already—" He cut himself off, but he continued again in a desolate voice. "Everything. I'm poised to lose everything . . . even my own wife."

Venetus held his breath, waiting for a reply as his slippery thoughts attempted to grasp a possible meaning to those words. Was she infected as well?

"We don't know that yet."

"I . . . how can I hope for either your success or failure?" he demanded desperately. "This isn't a choice I can make."

"It's not a choice you'll ever have to make. Either it will be decided for us, or I will be the one to die as per my word to Regis. But . . . I think Ardyn was right. I am the Anathema—even more so than he is. The Crystal would never accept me to hold the soul of the star."

"Why must the survival of our entire species depend on the death of one of the two people I love most in the world?" he sighed hopelessly.

Several beats of silence passed before Laura answered, "You once told me that you loved extraordinary people. What other destiny tends to befall such individuals? You yourself have led such a very hard life."

These were the very words Venetus hadn't wished to hear, and yet he clung to them, hoping desperately to hear more. He must have dozed for a time despite the sensation of his brain swelling against his skull, for the conversation seemed to have stopped abruptly. When his awareness registered Laura speaking again, it was apparent that he had missed several lines of the dialogue between them.

"I know. He's been awake through most of this."

"Then the time has come."

The time had passed, honestly. When Venetus had accompanied his citizens into Quarantine, they'd had full control over their faculties as stage one patients. But believing that enough time had passed to consider himself in the clear, Venetus had taken far too long after the first signs of sensitivity to stimulus to bid his wife farewell and announce to a dumbstruck Lestallum that he was the proud father of Ignis Scientia, King Regent of Lucis. He'd had to flee the public eye before his condition worsened, as much as he hated to leave behind such turmoil, so he was ignorant as to the aftermath of his declaration that Ignis was the heir to his estate and title.

But it was for the best that he had left so suddenly, for with each passing day, his feeble mind displayed more and more evidence of its betrayal—beginning with the innocuous stray thought of his mother simmering tripes à la mode de Ulwaat in the tripière as a boy, or accompanying his father on foraging trips to the Forest of Memories to gather Ulwaat berries. In the last two days since he'd been here, however, those stray thoughts had grown more and more disturbing—what it would feel like to bite the cord running from the wall to the lamp to snuff out that eye-piercing light for good, or to leap across the table to sink his teeth into Laura's throat and feel her warm lifeblood welling up beneath his lips.

Venetus had initially wished for privacy as Laura took samples of his blood and tested his faculties every few hours. But as his feeble frame grew weaker, so too had his resolve. He and Trina had said their final goodbyes. He felt the greatest gift he could leave her with was the memories of him as he had been—strong and capable. But his son . . . he owed Ignis something more in reparation in these, his final selfish hours.

Oh gods, the entire affair had been all his fault.

"Father."

Ignis rushed to his bedside as though Venetus were the most important person, the most important task on the King Regent's list of matters to attend to right now. Perhaps it was considered hubris to do so, but Venetus admired that strong jaw and those high cheekbones that reminded him of his own father the first time he'd seen them echoed in his adult son ten years ago. And those large emerald eyes—deeply expressive despite his best efforts and so reminiscent of Trina in that moment that he couldn't tear his gaze away from them.

"Ignis. Thank you for coming."

Ignis placed a steadying hand on his shoulder as he sat up, but the boy couldn't know that his touch may as well have been a physical blow for all that it sapped his strength to resist flinching.

"You should lie back down."

"I need to shower," he snapped, but immediately regretted his tone. If he was to do this, he would be leaving this world clean and well-dressed, no matter how impossible a task that seemed at the present moment.

"Very well. We've also prepared you something to eat, if you're feeling up to it." Ignis said gently. "Do you need assistance?"

"Getting there," he admitted as he shifted his weight to his trembling knees and leaned against his son's offered forearm. "There's a stool in the stall so that I may handle matters from there."

The small room bathed in black brought some measure of relief the moment they entered. "Please. If it isn't too much trouble," he said in a rush as Ignis paused by the door. "May we leave the light off?"

"Of course."

He insisted that Ignis leave the room once he had sat him down fully clothed in the dark shower stall, as he didn't think he could bear the sight of his son's expression, even by the indirect light shining through from the next room, if Ignis saw just how quickly his body had wasted away to become frail and failing. Venetus had always been a diplomat first and foremost, and though he'd always maintained a healthy exercise routine, he'd never seen the need to achieve the bulk Ignis managed to keep up. But that decision seemed to have contributed to it only taking days before he became just this side of too thin to appear healthy.

The taps were positioned as they had every time Venetus had bathed in this cabin, and yet he found he had to lock his jaw tight beneath pursed lips to keep from screaming at the steaming water pelting his skin as he used the cloth to scrape himself clean. Though he'd managed to dry himself off successfully and reach the vanity on trembling legs, groping weakly for the trousers and button-down Laura had doubtless left for him, he found dressing to be an impossible task through the sudden shock of cold frosting his bones over. He'd managed to maneuver into his undergarments and trousers, but his shaking fingers wouldn't cooperate enough to work the button. Astrals help him when the time came to do the buttons on his dress shirt.

Given how cold he was, perhaps he should request Laura to summon him a sweater, instead. But he didn't wish to interrupt the hushed conversation taking place outside—he so rarely bore witness to Ignis and his wife speaking to one another. The phenomenon was only due to his infirmity, he knew, yet listening to their gentle, murmured tones exchanged in this dark time brought Venetus some measure of comfort that they would prosper despite whatever hardship had taken place in her laboratory.

He wasn't entirely certain what he was to do regarding this most recent inadequacy, but his muddy thoughts were still urging him to release the scream of frustration clawing its way up his throat when the conversation suddenly stopped and his door opened wider.

"Venetus—here, let me help you," Laura murmured, turning him so that he was half sitting on the vanity.

She didn't allow him a moment of indecision to work through this distressing loss of dignity as she grabbed the shirt behind him and draped it over his shoulders. Her warm hands left his skin tingling as she helped him push his arms through the sleeves. Long, delicate fingers made quick work of his buttons, and before he could protest the intimacy of such a gesture, she had pulled him to stand straight long enough to tuck his shirt in and thread the belt through his loops.

"Th—thank you."

"It's no trouble at all, really." Guiding him by the shoulders toward the toilet, she asked softly, "Sit for me?"

He sighed as the pressure released off his aching knees, but vertigo overwhelmed his pounding head for a moment as Laura began his daily grooming ritual as though she'd done this every day.

Perhaps she had, and he'd simply forgotten.

He breathed in and out, slow and deep, until the dim room stopped spinning around him. Sounds had begun to reverberate in his ears since the morning previous, but her mellifluous hum carried on a gentle, mournful tune that settled his throbbing head somewhat as she worked to shave his face clear of last night's stubble, first whipping the shaving soap to a lather and spreading it over his cheeks. Yes, she must have done this for him the past few days; he couldn't recall doing it himself.

"I might have told you before, but you have a lovely voice," he said after she had taken a towel to his face, gently wiping it clean of stray soap and water.

To his disappointment, she stopped as she reached for something on the vanity. "Thank you. Ignis always seemed to think so. It was always one of his favorite songs."

The most delicate of tugs to his hair indicated that it had been a comb she'd retrieved from the vanity and was now bringing his straight grey-blonde locks to order, slicking the mostly-dried strands away from his eyes and setting them in his preferred style.

The image of white tiled walls scattered with the occasional black flashed before his sight—the master bath in their suburban home in Sorwester, where Ignis had spent the first three years of his life. His boy had been born with a head full of bleach-blonde hair that only thickened and darkened as he'd grown older. Ignis had never smiled so wide than when he and Trina would set him in the bath and wash his hair. Then they would dress him and comb that unruly mop into submission before tucking him into his cot for the evening, just as Laura was doing now.

In those moments of quiet companionship, he couldn't help but think with some regret that she would have made a fine mother.

Venetus's greatest regret in life was that he'd never been able to watch Ignis grow up. Perhaps he had pushed Ignis too hard to have children of his own, citing the need to carry the line to appeal to his more analytical side, but his son had merely grown more obstinate in his decision as the years passed. It was true; Venetus had wished to see his and Trina's auspicious lines continue. But he also yearned to see those bright green eyes of his wife reflected in the eyes of a child wriggling in his arms once more, to be there to witness a piece of Ignis—a piece of himself—grow up as he hadn't been able to do before.

He wished he could ask her to do him the honor of carrying on their line, but he refused to abuse his vulnerable position. Already, Venetus feared he'd gone too far in an effort to influence his son in that direction and had made him even more reticent to open up. But there was one final request he had no qualms in asking of her before he departed.

"Promise me," he groaned as another shot of pain lashed from his head to his fingertips. He clenched his fists in an effort to speak smoothly through the agony. "Promise me you'll take care of him, always."

"We exchanged that vow before I met you . . . a couple of times. There is much you don't understand, but I will never leave his side. You have my word."

"That is all I ask. Thank you."

Her sweet, haunting voice filled the silence between them as she began to hum again. Once she had finished with his hair, she dabbed a drop of his aftershave, rubbing it between her palms, and a stray evanescent part of him wondered just how long his scent would linger on her skin after his soul had departed this eos and his body burned to ash.

As she feathered her hands over his jaw, she said, "All finished. Do you think you could manage to eat anything? Ignis and I prepared you a special Tenebraean meal."

With a slight groan, he got to his feet, teetering into her smaller frame as he attempted to regain his balance. Honestly, he wasn't at all hungry and hadn't been for some time, but the thought of having one last meal with his family filled him with a wistful longing that brought tears unbidden to fill his lower eyelids. A Tenebraean meal. How long had it been since he'd experienced the flavors of his homeland, of his childhood? He'd had little but rations and whatever he could grab in spare moments for so long. One would think that his absence from Tenebrae all these years meant that he hadn't cared for his country, but on the contrary, for all that he had become a reluctant king, he truly did love her towering forests, rolling hills, and wide-open sky.

Oh, but it pained him to think that he would never be granted the privilege of seeing it restored to its former glory.

"Yes, please," he managed, but his voiced was hoarse and weak. He gently cleared his throat as he leaned away from her and added, "What did you make?"

She didn't have the chance to answer as his hand shot out against his will, seeking to claw at the nearest flesh it could reach. He blanched as she reached out almost without thought to catch him by the wrist and hold him with a firm grip that felt as though she could easily snap it in two.

"Apolo—" he grunted, doing his best to shove aside the instinctual reaction to slam her against the wall and tear her to shreds. Venetus had never been a violent man, and it was only that bewildering dissonance between what he was feeling and what sort of man he was that allowed him to fight the sensation. He supposed he wouldn't be so fortunate as to become one of the peaceful gayla, judging by this sudden desire, but oh, gods, then what sort of a creature was he turning into?

Then he remembered that he was far more fortunate than those millions who had endured this very same ailment. He wouldn't have to bear witness to the complete loss of his sense of self before he transformed into a monster.

"It's all right," she said, far more kindly than he deserved. Still holding his tensed wrist tightly, she pressed a gentle hand to his jaw. "Just wait for it to pass."

The two of them stood in that dark room and waited in silence as he shuddered from the cold and the seething monster threatening to erase his rational mind. Venetus retreated from reality, burying himself inside his own head in an effort to either fight or hide from this daemon being revealed inside him. Was his true nature really whatever shape this virus had in store for him? Or was he more than that? Was what made him Venetus Étoile not conscious thought? Not poetry, or art, or music, or literature? Violence. Violence and murder.

"We couldn't decide," Laura's voice broke through the fog thickening his head and brought him back to that restroom in that cabin. If such a thing weren't impossible, he would have thought she'd read his mind and sought to distract him from his inner turmoil.

"Ignis made you a golden egg galette and I helped him with . . . Trina forgot what it was called. Kouign-amann, is what it sounded like from her description."

Such a strange girl—she was always using odd words he'd never heard before. He wondered how much of her mystery would be solved simply by knowing where she'd been born. But as always, he brushed aside the incongruency and said, "I'm afraid I don't recognize that."

It was only as she answered that his hand finally seemed to relax, coming under his control again. "Layers of croissant dough, butter, and sugar, folded into a sort of muffin? The sugar caramelizes when you bake it."

"Ahh, yes, the Queen's crown cake," he sighed, closing his eyes to the memories playing behind his eyelids—no more than bright flashes of color. "You've spoken to Trina, then."

Hadn't she just said that? He wasn't certain.

"Yes. Well . . . you're all done. Can I help you into the kitchen?"

"A moment."

Venetus turned slowly and stumbled back toward the vanity to catch a glimpse of himself in the low light. This . . . this would be the last outfit he would ever wear. It surprised him somewhat how normal and calm he appeared, except for the slightly pulsating patch of black spreading up his neck, across his jaw, and up toward his cheekbone. It had expanded even further since he'd last seen it before he'd gone to sleep, and if these violent tendencies were any measure to go by, he had in fact slipped into stage two today as Laura had said.

They didn't have much time.

"Please."

"Here," she said, lifting his arm up around her shoulders. He leaned against her surprisingly sturdy but small frame as he stood straight and shuffled out of the small room with her toward the kitchen.

The crudely-constructed table had been fashioned to seat only two, but Ignis had placed a third chair on the longer side and was lighting a candle to illuminate the spread Venetus couldn't begin to eat all of. He could only hope they would understand after they'd gone through all this trouble, and Ignis had even been thoughtful enough to accommodate his oversensitive eyes.

"Allow me to get your chair," Ignis said, rushing to pull a chair out for him to sit.

The rough-hewn wooden floors seemed to transform beneath his dreadfully uncoordinated feet, shimmering to solidify into the park on Coronal street on a sticky, hot summer afternoon. The green grass and greener trees were silent in the still air, but he had never been able to hear them in that miniscule space surrounded on all sides by cars rushing past, even on windy days. Venetus remembered this particular day as though it were only yesterday, when Ignis had sat on their blanket for nearly an hour gazing wide-eyed at the scene before getting to his feet as though he'd done it a thousand times and taking his first wobbly steps.

And to look at him now—his strong, handsome _son_.

He hadn't paid much attention to the plate already set before him until he sat with a sigh. He may have possessed little interest in consuming the delicate crepe folded around a vibrant egg and vegetables, but as those painfully familiar scents wafted up his sensitive nose, his body betrayed him yet again. Saliva rushed into his mouth and seeped through his too-slack lips to fall on the shirt he'd only just put on, but as his ungraceful hand lurched up to catch it, his fingers crashed clumsily into Laura's, already pressing a napkin to the side of his mouth.

"Apologies," he mumbled.

Had he already apologized? He couldn't recall.

Laura leaned forward, the tip of her long braid nearly brushing his knee as she pressed her lips to his forehead. "Think nothing of it," she replied as she took her seat next to him.

In the end, he wasn't able to take more than a single bite of the culinary memory they had prepared for him, but it wasn't until he had sunk his teeth into the sweet pastry and tart Ulwaat filling that he was truly thrown backwards to the days he'd spent in Tenebrae as a boy—to a thousand sunlit summer afternoons when his mother would work furiously at the kitchen counter, pressing butter into the raw dough before rolling it thin and flat . . . only to fold it and start the process again, over and over and over, the soft slap of sticky dough and gentle thuds of her wooden rolling pin the only sounds in the otherwise silent kitchen. It hardly mattered that the bakery just a five-minute walk away sold the very same pastry; she would stand him on a stepstool in front of the stove as he used her favorite heavy wooden spoon to stir the berries he and his father had picked in the Forest of Memories into a sweet, tart filling.

It had always been said the berry was supposed to evoke memories of the past, but this was ridiculous.

"Where did you learn to make this?" he asked in surprise, wishing he could stomach another bite, but the churning in his gut advised him against it.

A pensive smile twitched at the corner of Ignis's lips as he stared down at the pastry in Venetus's trembling hand with a melancholy nostalgia. "It took me nearly twelve years to discover that berry as an ingredient in Tenebraean cuisine, and I managed to recreate this particular recipe from when I had a similar pastry in a place called Paris."

"I see," he said in a small voice, sitting back in his chair and letting his eyes roam over Ignis's stiff posture and his hands rubbing idly at one another. So he could recreate recipes as complex as the Queen's memory cake after simply sampling it?

Even as a baby, Ignis had always been talented . . . strange, but brilliant. He'd rarely cried, but kept his lips closed and his viridian eyes always wide open and watching, learning, taking stock. There had been a serenity about him that made one feel as though they were in the company of a wise sage who had taken a vow of silence—a trait that seemed to have followed him into manhood. But that silence was broken at the age of two when he politely asked in a dulcet, nobly-accented tone if they had any cinnamon to put on his toast. He was a prodigy and always had been—eloquent and restrained, possessing a mind sharp enough to know when to use which.

Except for today, as Venetus wished for nothing more than to sit at this table for another year and hang onto every word that left his son's lips, but Ignis seemed to be clinging to that habitual quiet he was so well-known for. Yet even if he had been loquacious for once, Venetus didn't have the time left to hear his life story. Already, he'd expended far too much energy and felt exhausted. He couldn't possibly stay his execution for one more day—how much of him would be left to remember all that was said and felt and shared when he awoke? No . . . it would be best to handle this while he was still himself, before he became even more of a burden.

"Ignis," he said slowly, "it's time."

As Ignis nodded once and stood to help him up, Laura put a hand on his thigh. "Are you sure? It's not too late to fly Trina here. We could have her here in hour—"

"No. I worsen by the hour," Gazing up at his son's tight eyes, he pleaded, "Please, take care of your mother on my behalf."

"I will. You have my word," he replied, his voice trembling.

Venetus leaned deeply into Ignis's side as he led him the few steps to the bed, but Ignis faltered as he released him onto the mattress. After several moments, he said, "I brought an injection."

"No," he snapped impatiently, as they had _all_ gone over this already. "Save it for a citizen." He'd steadfastly avoided wondering how they planned to execute him since the very first time he'd refused what little drugs they had left, but as he settled into the welcoming pile of blankets in an attempt to warm his numbing body, he reluctantly said, "Perhaps we should take this outside. I don't wish to leave you with any more cleanup than is necessary."

Ignis opened his mouth, a question forming on his lips, but Laura stepped forward to speak. "With your permission, there's a way to do it quickly, painlessly, and with no mess."

"Laura—" Ignis let out on an exhale.

"Yes," Venetus replied without hesitation. Whatever she was proposing, these were far better circumstances than he could have hoped for. "You have my permission."

Ignis went still, frowning deeply. His eyes darted back and forth over Venetus's face before he nodded and stepped back to sit stiffly on the chair beside his bed. Venetus felt the mattress dip as Laura moved to sit next to his hip. Ignis reached out to grasp his hand tightly, his jaw twitching in restrained grief.

He was so strong now—stronger than Venetus himself. As much as he despised the idea of offering up an excuse for breaking his vow to protect him as a child, perhaps Venetus's failure hadn't been mere happenstance. Perhaps Ignis's upbringing, whatever had happened to his son, had gifted him with the mettle to lead mankind through the end of days. With everything Ignis had endured, would he have died had he become a simple diplomat as Venetus had? Would it have been Ignis on this bed today?

If only Venetus were as prodigiously courageous as his son was. From where had he summoned such strength? He truly wished to know, because he was going to need it for what he was about to do. For his last few moments and this final, most despicable confession, Venetus could think of no persona more appropriate to adopt than his own child's.

"Wait," he instructed Laura as she leaned forward. Looking up to where Ignis sat, he said, "I have something I must tell you before . . .."

Ignis wordlessly slid from his seat to kneel by his side, gazing quietly into his eyes, but Venetus found he couldn't summon quite enough courage to meet them as the words he'd rehearsed over his final meal spilled from his lips.

"On the day Noct was born, Gentiana came to meet Princess Lunafreya, to inform her that she had been chosen as the oracle to work with the future King of Kings." He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, bathing in the sensation of the needles shooting up his arms as punishment for his sins. "It would be another five years before word _officially_ reached the ears of King Regis from the Old Kings, but I was directed by Queen Sylva only a month after Gentiana moved into the manor to pass the word to him that his son had been Chosen."

"That's—"

"I knew!" he shouted, opening his eyes to meet Ignis's shocked expression. "When I handed you over to the King, _both_ of us knew exactly what we were signing you onto . . . a child, my boy, one of the three Sword-Sworn of the prophecy."

Ignis's attention drifted off to the side, his gaze growing faraway for a moment.

"Please," he pleaded. "Don't blame your mother. She didn't know. She still doesn't know."

The conflict in Ignis's expression settled, his eyes growing eerily calm as they looked at one another. Venetus was expecting condemnation to fall from his lips when he finally chose to speak, but he was surprised when his words expressed the opposite.

"It's all right," he said steadily, soothingly, running gentle fingers over Venetus's brow and squeezing his hand so tightly that he couldn't hold back the whimper that passed through his closed lips.

"That's . . . more than I deserve. You always were a good boy—a _good_ man." He swallowed his mouthful of saliva before cautiously asking, "Do you remember what I told you the day Uncle Caeli came to get you?"

Ignis frowned. "Vaguely . . . barely."

"This is the most important thing I will ever ask. You mustn't cry. You have a job to do now, so be a good boy and always do your very best, facing each challenge in this life with your chin held high and your eyes wide open. Be wary and vigilant of the darkness—from without, as well as from within. You must become _more_ , son. Don't let me down."

"I promise, Father," he said, his voice so much deeper and stronger than when he'd first said it all those years ago. "I'll do my very best; I _will_ become more."

"There's a good lad. I need you to know," he said, fighting the burn in his eyes, "I am very proud of you, my son."

Ignis let out a sharp, shuddering breath before swallowing audibly. "Father—" his voice broke on the word.

"You have my mantle. Bear it well."

"Godspeed."

The weight of his burden lifted, Venetus finally felt free enough to turn toward Laura.

"I'm ready."

Though his eyes were heavy with exhaustion, Venetus didn't blink, locking them on Ignis's . . . so like Trina's, the manifestation of their lives together and the love they shared.

Laura leaned forward to take his head in her hands, and though a questing thread of curiosity shot through him, he found he was too tired to ask how she could be strong enough to snap his neck from this position.

Venetus was able to give his son's fingers one final squeeze before that familiar face faded away along with the cold and the pain, to be replaced by the most solid vision of the meadows of Tenebrae he'd experienced yet. The scent of heat, dirt, and sweet grass lingered in his nose; the warmth of the bright sun settled into his bones for a moment before it, too, faded away . . . into darkness.

* * *

The Forest of Memories was supposed to have been a way for us to see Regis's and Luna's memories in the game, but was cut for whatever reason. Its location in Ulwaat and it being where the berries grow is made up by me, as is the berry's association with memories. My thanks to SylvaViaFleuret on the FFXV reddit for discovering it in the datamine and guessing the name to be Forest of Memories, and to OS from the reddit Discord server for pointing it out.

Venetus's confession is related to these lines from Shiva in the game: "When the boy begins his existence on this star, the girl is met by the High Messenger. It is ordained that she will work with him to return the Light. The girl reaffirms that promise." It's stated in the Ultimania that Regis learns from the Old Kings that Noct is Chosen when he is five, but if Tenebrae knew when Noct was born, I imagine Regis would have heard rumors, at least.


	97. Chapter 97

By the time he had summoned the strength to ask, Laura was already twisting the cap closed on the Tenebraean blue and silver urn that now held his father's remains. It seemed unreal that everything the man had been in life—intelligence, fierce loyalty, brilliant diplomacy, too many admirable traits to list—had been reduced to the contents of a _jar_. Where was his father's bravery and love represented in the anonymity of yet another vessel of ashes?

"Are you all right?" he asked, but his words sounded disconnected from himself, as though someone else were speaking.

How very like her to offer to kill a man telepathically when his stubborn willfulness refused to accept an injection like everyone else. And, of course, his father hadn't learned to always, _always_ ask for the cost of such a gesture as he had. Not only would Laura suffer from this peculiar loss of self for a time, the blood that had been meant to stain Ignis's hands with the injection he'd intended to use had now been transferred to Laura's far more intimate mindscape.

"Yeah," she replied, turning to place the urn unceremoniously on the bedside table.

Her word was truth; whoever this person was, she was all right and always would be, but wherever his Rose had gone, she clearly wasn't.

"You disconnected. You didn't hold him."

"No. I couldn't afford to be incapacitated right now. We can be called upon at any moment, with Ardyn out there and the Crystal almost ready," she said, staring passionlessly down at the jar still resting between her hands. "I made up a view of Tenebrae before I ruptured his brainstem. That was as pleasant as I could make it."

Ignis turned his head away, hoping to hide his expression from her view, but she must have felt his disgust even through the wall they'd placed between them.

"I'm sorry," she said, and even though Laurelín felt anaesthetized in his head and numb on his tongue, he could tell by her tone that somewhere deep down, Rose was the one speaking to him. "Are _you_ all right?"

"Had you known that King Regis knew all along? Did he know about my education as well?"

Honestly, he wasn't certain he wanted to hear her response, as he'd believed after Altissia that all the secrets between them had been shared, and this would have been too great an omission to brush aside. He despised that he doubted her for even a moment as he sat watching her sitting on the edge of his father's deathbed, but despite his quiet despair, he couldn't help the rush of relief that broke over his head when she shook hers.

"No. That hour we got to know each other . . . was more centered around his heart and motivations, and they were ones I could support," she mumbled in a monotone, still staring down at his father's urn. "I thought your situation odd when I met you, all of you, but you know that for as much as I travel, I've learned that even other human settlements possess different moralities that I have no right to judge."

His most pressing questions attended to, he couldn't think of anything he wanted more in that moment than privacy. This seeping chill pervading their connection felt too much as though he'd lost her alongside his father. She'd grown so cold that she hadn't felt even the briefest stings of offense at his moment of weakness and distrust, as though Ignis were a stranger merely asking her for curiosity's sake. It was distracting him from his grief, which, for once, was so close and so personal that he found he needed to take this time and _feel_ something for once. Ignis guessed that her detachment would correct itself in a matter of hours, if their experience the very first time she'd killed a man on the side of the road was anything to go by, but this moment, right now, would never come again.

"Please leave," he pleaded gently.

Laura's vacant gaze shot to him at his words, her eyebrows twitching a little in what looked like surprise, but she closed her lips and nodded.

"I'll be in the laboratory if you need me," she murmured as she stood, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek, but her words were much like the sensation of her mind in his. Even the action itself was not initiated from the tenderness he'd grown accustomed to but rather because she knew she _should_ offer some sympathy in this moment. However, he supposed that Laurelín was willing to mimic his wife in an attempt to ameliorate his mourning spoke to some degree of a compassionate heart.

It was that thought that brought him some small measure of comfort in this dark hour.

As his eyes followed her calm and collected stroll out the front door of the cabin, a part of him couldn't help but envy her ability to disconnect at a time like this, even if she would soon be joining him in his heartache, horror, and remorse. Honestly, after what she'd done, she needed just as much consoling as he, but for once in his gods damned life, he wanted to take his moment to grieve for his loss without the burden of someone, anyone else. She would understand; she had, after all, been the very person telling him to do just that since the day Insomnia fell.

It seemed as though every event in his life had required him to be unfeeling, and stars knew he'd tried his very best for as long as he could remember, but heartache had been one of several stubborn blemishes not even his best efforts could remove. He supposed, at the very least, he'd manage to find some degree of success in devoting his considerable talents to hiding those signs of weakness which he could not suppress. Perhaps he'd been doing it for far too long, or perhaps Laura's numbness had infected him, because as he stared down at the indentation his father had left in the sheets, he realized he felt nothing beyond shock and denial and that ever-present quiet despair.

Had he loved his father? He'd had weeks to ponder over the most loaded question he'd ever asked himself and had yet to come to a conclusion. But that hardly mattered now that he was gone and it was too late to give a confession directly. He supposed what mattered most right now was that this place needed to be cleaned.

Ignis stood from his chair beside the bed, taking extra caution not to allow his eyes to fall on the urn resting on the table, and yanked the edges of the sheets to gather them into a ball along with the pillow in its case. But no amount of laundering would wash away that impression he had left, no. How could they ever be used by anyone else again? He strode to the cold, dark fireplace and tossed them onto the grate. With a flick of his wrist, he set them ablaze and stepped back, watching the flames lick away all evidence of his father's last moments. Let them _all_ be consumed to ash.

Every day that his father had insisted on one of their 'meetings' to challenge his decisions. Every one of the times his mother and father had arrived unannounced during his rare free time to pry into his personal life. Yet for every instance his father had been against him, he had also supported him against those who sought to disrupt the delicate balance his administration had struck. Irritation. Frustration. Fondness. A sense of kinsmanship and unwavering loyalty.

The very same sentiments Ignis and Noct had felt for one another. Would Ignis have been willing to take his father's place just as he would have been willing to take Noct's place?

The realization broke over him, and he felt the blood drain from his face. Yes. Oh, gods, yes he would.

He turned to the table laden with the dishes of their last meal together—the candle still burning, the pastry and galette still left half eaten as though his father had merely stepped away for a moment and intended to return. Another task to be completed. This was a process he was well familiar with and was something he could handle without thought. He could do this. He snuffed out the flame with a puff of a breath before gathering the six small plates. For once, he discarded the unfinished food without the slightest trace of guilt. Then he tossed his coat onto the back of his dining chair, rolled up his sleeves, and plunged the dishes into a sink full of the hottest water his cramping hands could bear. And though he scrubbed every speck, every crumb of kouign-amann from the plates, he wasn't satisfied. His hands had been stained bone-deep as a willing accomplice in his father's death, just as he had been for everyone else that had passed through Quarantine. Astrals, would he ever feel clean again?

He had loved his father. Why was it such a simple matter to say it now that the time to confess it to the man himself had passed? He'd just _sat_ there in that very chair and hadn't said a word. Had his father died understanding that Ignis's silence was not due to a lack of caring? Astrals, Ignis hoped so. What sort of a man was he becoming when he couldn't cut through his own thoughts to say what really mattered before it was too late? Selfish. He was selfish.

Whether the Crystal required his wife or his brother to restore their star, Ignis would have to endure such a loss again so very soon. For ten years, he'd been mourning a brother that hadn't yet died, but he would— _one_ of them would, and nothing, not even a brother's or a husband's love, could stop it. This was the real world, after all, and he would be expected to carry out his duty as he always had—unflinchingly. He intended to, in order to heed his higher calling, but at what cost?

A dark, secret part of him was beginning to wonder—as each life slipped through his fingers unacknowledged and forgotten, and with every aspect of living that had shaped them into a civilized society vanished unnoticed—whether humanity _ought_ to survive. It was one question they had never asked themselves in this long struggle— _why_ they deserved to survive. If the price for saving them all from the sins of their forebears required the death of the innocent, then perhaps they didn't deserve to continue after all, for what sort of civilization would be built from the ashes of this depravity?

Regardless, he must do his duty. He hadn't truly understood all those years ago when Noct admitted that he adopted his father's persona in difficult times, but he believed he did now. Little had Ignis known he'd been hiding that blemish of weakness beneath the cloak of his father's persona for so long that he didn't even know whether his strength had come from within or from those fleeting childhood memories of his father.

Finished with scrubbing and rinsing the dishes, Ignis yanked the plug from the drain and stepped back to watch the water level slowly fall lower and lower, eventually creating a satisfying sucking sound until it was completely empty.

Empty. He felt empty.

He hadn't realized that he'd internalized his father's last words to him as a boy so thoroughly that they'd formed the core of his identity, as though he'd imprinted them onto his soul to replace his absence. Everything, from his hatred of the dark to the word he had whispered to himself every night before falling asleep to become _more,_ had been formed by those moments he'd barely been able to recall. And like his father, Ignis never did anything by halves. When he gave his word even at three years old to do his very best, he had done so every day for the rest of his life, and when he saw Noct for the very first time at age six and fell in love with his charge that needed him so completely after the loss of his mother, he'd sworn on his life that he would do whatever it took to protect him.

Ignis turned to the pile of plates dripping cold water onto the scarred wooden counters, summoned a towel from Laura's Pocket, and began to wipe them dry.

Even as a child, Ignis hadn't been dim-witted. He'd known that he'd been chosen as a replacement for the father who was too busy leading the country in a time of war to be there for his son. As advisor, brother, and servant, Ignis had raised Noct on the fading memories of the principles his father had instilled in him—as a tough but unflinchingly loyal guardian, continuing to love him even though he'd _thought_ at the time that the sentiment wasn't shared.

The abrupt change in color of the dim lighting falling on his hands as he worked was Ignis's first warning that he wasn't quite as alone as he wished to be. The arrival was silent, as it had been each time one of them had come unannounced, but that brilliant white light that washed out Ignis's vision for a second was unmistakable. He paused for only a moment, the dishtowel still pressed to the plate he'd been drying, before unceremoniously and unnecessarily working the completely dried dish over once again.

"Your timing leaves something to be desired, Your Majesty," he noted mildly, but somewhere in the back of his head, his lifetime of training was thoroughly appalled at his disgraceful words and tone. He found he couldn't regret the small act of rebellion, however. It had been a long and difficult ten years.

" **Ignis."** The once familiar voice was now foreign in its resonance—a commanding yet soft-spoken tone transformed to echoing and grand. He still didn't turn to pay his former liege obeisance as King Regis continued, **"Of every second of the last ten years, it was now that you needed to see me the most."**

As per usual, he disagreed with King Regis's words, but unlike the days of his youth, he felt that he had earned the right to do so. Dropping the dish and towel to the counter, Ignis hung his head and let out a long-suffering sigh. So many questions swirling in his befuddled mind along with Laura's brief appearance to ensure he was all right. He reassured her that all was as well as it could be, but those questions continued to batter at him. Why had His Majesty chosen a child to endure this along with Noct when he was just as inexperienced as his charge? Why had he asked Ignis to take care of Noct when he knew that one day, Ignis would fail in that promise? Why had he capitalized on Ignis's honesty and sense of duty to extract such a vow when he knew it would destroy that child to keep it? Why hadn't he told any of them of Ardyn, of whom he certainly must have been aware on some level? Why had he sent them off with a bodyguard beyond any level of expertise they could imagine but hadn't spared them a single word of warning for what they were about to endure?

For his entire life, he'd always been forgiving of the Caelum line and all they had done to him, even going so far as to find excuses for their behavior, and he had to say he was growing rather weary of the practice as he followed behind to pick up the pieces of what was left. But despite all Ignis felt he was owed in the form of answers, he knew that every line of inquiry he had would have been met with a fruitless non-answer . . . except, perhaps, one.

"Why me?" he asked, examining far too thoroughly an imperfection in the grain of the wooden counter, its jagged edges blackening and smoothing over with age and time.

" **I am sorry, my boy,"** he began, the personal words sounding far too incongruous with the booming regal tone to sound sincere to Ignis's ears, **"but you were the best for the task."**

Righteous fury flooded him at the response. On far too many evenings as a child, he had lowered himself gingerly to his bed, recalling with some measure of comfort each and every time the king had referred to him as 'my boy,' believing at the time that though he had failed to live up to his tutors' expectations, King Regis, at least, might still have considered him family.

But he _wasn't_ King Regis's boy. Ignis Stupeo Scientia was the proud son of Venetus Étoile and Ustrina Stupeo Scientia and no other.

Ignis whirled to face his former liege, intent on giving him a tongue lashing the likes of which Noct had never received, but the words died on his lips at the sight of that familiar battle armor hovering serenely next to the kitchen table.

Hadn't he already learned this lesson? Hadn't he already lived on both sides of this equation—as both the victim and the executioner of the will of the greater good, the higher calling that had claimed a stake in his entire life?

Had Ignis not been placed in his position as a child and endured all he had, he was certain he would not have lived to see this day, having made it this far with a treasured mother and wife, along with his fiercely-loved brothers. He'd been afforded an unparalleled education that allowed him to hold his own future in his hands instead of relying on others. And even after doing his best to set aside his ego, he had to admit that of all his peers, he could think of no one better suited for the task of protecting and preparing the future King of Light.

It was true that they _all_ , including Ignis, had committed the unforgiveable in the name of the greater good. His own hands were still dripping with the blood of Galdin Quay as well as his own father. He could only hope that whatever set them in these despicable roles and delivered judgments in the great beyond, if there even was such a controlling force, would take the context of his actions into account before finding him wanting. Had King Regis's actions been measured in context? He may have fed the rest of Lucis to the wolves and would be the one to murder his own son so very soon now, but he'd quietly sent his own emissaries in defiance of the gods to do his bidding and fight fate as he met his own—by choosing a six-year-old Ignis and a seven-millennia-old goddess to fight on his behalf.

And they'd almost managed it; they might still if . . ..

When he considered that no matter what happened, he would have to stand idly by as his wife or his brother sacrificed their life for the rest of them . . . well, Ignis truly was as culpable as King Regis in this entire affair.

"Right," he said with an empty chuckle, turning back to the counter to dry his last dish. He ran a toweled hand over the gold-trimmed, scalloped edging, intending for that to be his final word on the matter, but a small patch of sparkling blue-white light flashed where the plate had been moments ago. He paused, bending to inspect what he knew would solidify to become 'The Father's' sigil.

" **Forgive me, son,"** KingRegis pleaded wearily as the light from his presence faded from Ignis's peripheral vision.

With a flash of silver, Ignis dismissed the dish in his hands and picked up the small, circular disc—mythril with a sparkling golden sun shooting out bright, thick rays at every angle. Though his hands were still spasming from his journey here and beginning to grow chilled from the cold, which even the fire he'd set and the heater they'd installed a few years ago at his insistence couldn't seem to keep up with, he traced the sun's corona with delicate fingers, longing for a day when it once again shone high over Eos without the impossible price they would have to pay, and he could find some peaceful rest at last.

"It isn't me you should be apologizing to," he murmured to the empty air.

As he had with every other sigil he'd earned, he dismissed it into the armiger with a deep, cleansing breath. Turning in a slow circle, he inspected the room carefully and found everything to his satisfaction—except for the blue and silver urn that was to be delivered to his mother, who, along with quite literally everyone else in the world, was his responsibility now. Then again, with what seemed like half of Lucis demanding his resignation and the other half pleading that he not abandon them for Tenebrae, all of whom seemed more than happy to have him as King, he wasn't quite certain how long his current status as first in line to every throne left in the world would remain as such.

Absolutely nothing he had experienced in the last few months could explain this inexplicable veil of calm that had suddenly settled over him, but he found he no longer wished to be alone. He wanted his family. Before he made it to the front door, Ignis took the few steps' detour to the bed in the corner and brushed the tips of his fingers over the urn that held everything his father had been.

"Thank you," he whispered before tugging on his bond with Laura to dismiss the jar to their Pocket.

Without a second glance, he turned and walked out of Kimya's cabin into the frigid night air, hoping to hold his vigil with Laura and Eilendil.

He found her just where she said she would be—in her laboratory, huddled with her knees drawn up in the corner of the couch that had doubled as her bed for the last ten years. But her eyes shot to his the second the door closed behind him, and she opened her knees wide and beckoned for him to sit with her.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as he curled up between her legs and settled his head just over her heart. A part of him felt somewhat like a child, folding his body up so tightly that he was engulfed by her smaller frame, but he was far past caring at this point about trifles such as appearances or pride.

She wrapped her arms around him, threading her fingers through his hair. "Gods, don't be sorry at all, love. You have nothing to apologize for." He closed his eyes at the electric pleasure of her fingers against his scalp, finding solace instead of discomfort in the dulled gold of their bond. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you. I never do manage to figure things out in time."

He looked up to meet her eyes, wincing a little as the frames of his glasses dug into the side of his face. She was staring down at his right hand, which was resting comfortably and unprovocatively on her left breast.

"Forgiv—" he began at her sharp frown, but as he pulled it away, she reached up to grasp it tightly.

"Did you get into a fight on the way here without letting me know?" she asked, her thumb and forefinger digging into the fleshy muscle.

"I didn't want to worry you."

"Hmm. You need to drink more water and get more sleep."

A sudden wave of his father's aftershave hit his nose—fresh and woodsy, with the slightest hint of vanilla—and his eyes burned from the memory of every single 'meeting' he'd had with his father at the tip of a blade. How he'd despised those sparring matches, where his father had criticized the narrow scope of his diplomatic and executive experience as they'd crossed steel. But now that they would never have another, he realized just how much he'd learned of imperial law and diplomacy . . . and just how much those hours must have meant to his father if he had been willing to endure the humiliation of being trounced so regularly by his own son at the end of a katana.

"I'm so _tired_ ," he said softly, allowing the tears to spill silently off the bridge of his nose and down his cheek.

"Then sleep," she replied, giving his relaxed forearm a gentle squeeze before twisting to concentrate on his other hand. "The lights outside will keep the daemons away, but I'll keep watch anyway. Did you want me to take you somewhere tonight, or let you be?"

"If it isn't too much trouble . . . no trips tonight, but stay close?"

"Of course. I'll just make sure you don't have nightmares."

"Thank you."

He had already closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of that miserable little laboratory where he'd only hours ago found her risking her life in an attempt to convince a madman to save his father, but he sent her a wordless request that she find some sleep as well, if she was able. The last thing he remembered was the comforting sensation of her hands returning to his hair before he drifted off in a cloud of his father's scent.

* * *

He couldn't say for how long he'd been unconscious. Though he felt rested enough to begin a new day, it wasn't as though he ever received enough hours of sleep to be considered healthy. His dreams had been disconnected—flashes of his mother's and father's faces along with Laura and Eilendil's comforting presence—but he felt himself beginning to surface when a new voice inserted itself into his consciousness . . . deep and primal and terrifying.

 _ **The Light waxes full. Go forth to the kingdom where the Usurper awaits. Reclaim the throne, and fulfill the calling of the True King.**_


	98. Chapter 98

For the first time since they'd gotten together, Iggy and Laura had agreed on something and had been wrong.

Today was gonna be the day he died after all.

" **The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price must be paid. To cast out the Usurper and usher in Dawn's light will cost the life of the Chosen. Many sacrificed all for the King; so must the King sacrifice himself for all.**

He'd been prepared for the words; he'd known all along that becoming the King of Light was gonna be the death of him, but he couldn't stop the tears from pooling in his eyes at the confirmation. In twenty years, he'd really only gotten the chance to live in the last four months he'd been on the road. He'd burned out a good chunk of himself to make way for his ancestors still whispering in the back of his head, but today would be the day he'd relinquish the rest of his humanity.

He glanced around at the rippling waves of purple and blue light stretching on forever before looking back up at the Astral he supposed was Bahamut. He guessed some part of him was supposed to be impressed by the figure a thousand times his size, holding him captive as he floated in the palm of a giant armored hand. But he'd done way too much, seen way too much—including accepting the inevitability of his own death—to ever be impressed by anything again.

" **Within the heart of the Crystal, wherein lies the soul of the Star . . . in this place, the King will gain the power to fulfill his calling. By the covenants awakened, the Six have seen the coming of the prophesied hour—a time when the Crystal shall have shed the entirety of its light unto the King. Only once he is replete can the True King complete his ascension. And only by the True King's hand can the immortal Accursed be banished and the light restored to this world."**

He might not've really known what this all meant had it not been for Laura, but he knew the cost of power now that he'd learned those lessons from her. Bahamut wanted to hollow him out to make room for the soul of every Caelum, every god, every Fleuret, and whatever was left lingering in Eos's womb—and then he'd be born again, this time as the King of Light, the reconstructed avatar of Eos.

Fine. He'd made his peace with that . . . sort of . . . when he'd put the Ring on, when Luna had died, really. But that wasn't what was important right now.

"Yeah, I already know all this, and like I told the Glacian, I don't care about that. I just wanna know my friends are gonna be safe!"

It was difficult to see the mostly-covered face of the god that the Cosmogony had described as 'elusive' because most of it was covered in a metal mask set between animalistic black and gold jaws. As he glared up at this literal messenger of death, Noct could just make out the surprisingly soft sapphire eyes shining from the mask's eye sockets—practically identical to his own. He should've been more unnerved by the similarity, but it kinda made sense, he guessed. They were related, after all—half brothers a thousand times removed, or something.

" **The Anathema watches over the Sword-Sworn, who watch over mankind. Together, they stand against the darkness and abide in hope, sustained by faith unfaltering that the King shall arise and bring deliverance."**

As usual, the answer was neither direct nor particularly reassuring. Noct had been ready to leap into the Crystal and do whatever needed to be done without hesitation until Ardyn had shown up. Gladio was still messed up from the phoenix down he'd taken; Prompto had been held captive for a week and had only rested for a single night, and Laura had pretty much been wiped out from being so close to the Crystal. What if the four of them died right now because he hadn't been there? What good was he if he couldn't save those closest to him? He'd already let Luna down; he didn't think he could go through with this if he lost the four of them on top of everything else.

That expressionless mask continued to stare down at him, those familiar eyes giving nothing away as the upper and lower feathers made of gold-edged swords flexed and folded like bird wings. He guessed Bahamut's size was supposed to intimidate him into accepting his fate without question, but it was unnecessary. Noct was just ready to get this Revelation thing over with so he could get back to saving the world, to saving his friends.

" **Now enter into Reflection,"** Bahamut said, lowering his giant gauntleted hand to allow Noct to float freely in the endless waves of color, **"that the Light of Providence shine within."**

And those were the last words he heard for days . . . hell, maybe years.

Reflection—a good word for it. There was no scenery to look at beyond the colorful ether stretching to infinity, nothing to do but stare inside his own soul and watch it fill up with the weight of two family lines and a host of divine power. Those Old Kings sat silent in the back of his head now that they'd gotten what they wanted, but as Noct sat huddled and helpless in the weightless space, they were joined by the hundred kings whose tombs he hadn't found, the holy light of Luna's spirit and her entire line, and what was left of the Power of Eos—from her body in Ravatogh as well as the womb he was currently being transformed in. Something inside him split and suddenly refracted, and he was finally shaken free to see infinity.

It hadn't begun to hurt until Eos joined him, followed by the promises from the six gods he'd earned—Bahamut, Shiva, Garuda, Leviathan, Ramuh, and Titan. All of them, swirling and seething, gathered at a point just behind his heart and glowed, beginning with what felt like heartburn and building until he was bound helpless and burning alive. There was no point in screaming—there was no one coming to save him—so he curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees in a pointless attempt to hold his body together as they hollowed out everything he'd ever been to make room for the soul of a star. He could only hope there would be enough room left to hide a small piece of himself so he'd still be Noct when this was all over.

But everything he once was burned to ash, and he forgot.

* * *

He was Eos, the Light of Providence. He had always been and always would be—floating here in this, the beginning and end of all things. The divine multitude sending their song over his mindscape filled him with cold and warmth, life and death, birth and return.

Mankind was so _small_ , smaller than even the miniscule voice huddled behind the heavenly host in his head mewling about the tiny moments of his little life when he'd been nothing but a dumb kid doing dumb things, like going to school and hanging out at the arcade with that other kid—he couldn't remember his name now. He batted the voice away, for those memories were meaningless and insignificant compared to the vast seas of knowledge and power swirling behind his eyes, ready to spring forth at his command. The golden fire filled him to the brim, stretching his being further than any mortal man was meant to bear, but he was no mortal man—not any longer.

The prophesied hour to call upon that power had not yet arrived, so he waited, sipping at the chalice of knowledge that overflowed and spilled into his conscious thoughts.

* * *

Once upon a time, the star slept, awaiting the day that Time decreed her mistress should arrive. Every moment was darkness, until one eternal night, the goddess Eos appeared and brought the soul of the star into her bosom, breathing life and light into its heart so that it would burn ever bright. Gazing down upon her new domain, she espied a planet below and alighted. As though rejoicing in her holy presence, a golden ray broke over Angelgard—a new dawn.

But the goddess Eos saw that the world was barren and wept, for this land had the potential to be as beautiful as her beloved homeland. Shaking her sparkling golden tresses, she sang the song of life and laughed with glee when the world grew lush and green—the barren rocks donning trees and bushes heavy with fruits and vines dripping with vegetables.

She saw that the world now flourished with beauty, but still she wept, for there was none to share it with her. For eight days hence, Eos tore at her flesh in grief. On the ninth day, she decided she would sculpt each piece into a shape that pleased her. She named her divine children after her dearest loved ones on Earth and gifted each of them with one of her own powers:

Titan, the Archaean, steadfast as stone;

Ramuh, the Fulgurian, sharp as lightning;

Odin, the Necronian, unyielding as death;

Shiva, the Glacian, gentle as snow;

Valefor, the Zephyrnian, wild as wind;

Leviathan, the Hydraean, relentless as tides;

Bahamut, the Draconian, unbending as iron;

Ifrit, the Infernian, fickle as fire.

Delighted that she had created this divine host, Eos did not cease in her toil. She knelt in the dust of Angelgard and collected a fistful of soil. Gazing into the light of the dawn, she breathed life upon the grains and watched as they caught on the gales of her breath. They spread far and wide, taking the shape of her favorite form. As the temperamental little creatures had been named on the planet Earth, she called them 'human.' To those that could prove themselves with their sharp minds and ambition, she made available a humble sliver of her magic.

Together with her divine children, she watched over the planet.

But man was dark and savage—naked, grasping creatures that thought not for the needs of their fellows or of the deeper mysteries of their world . . . until a man was born. This man possessed an unquenchable fire—to know, to love, to build. With his burning desire to learn, he discovered Eos's gift of magic and became the first mortal worthy of wielding Her power. Her son the Infernian saw this man for his full potential and gifted him with his holy fire, the power to sway the hearts of his fellow man, his divine appearance, and a name pulled from the tongues of Earth: Ignis, for the fire in his heart and mind; Stupeo, for his skill at stunning the spirit with his magic; Scientia, for his passion to seek out all knowledge.

The world of mankind flourished under his tutelage, and together with her Eight children, they built the empire of Solheim on the planet Eos, both named in her honor. Her beloved Archaean helped them build the Disc of Cauthess so that they would always know where their cherished goddess was in the sky.

Soon, the gods grew distracted. Ifrit and Shiva entwined fire and ice, basking in the joy they found in their love. Titan roamed the planet, leaving his mark on the world as he saw fit with mountains and arches and towering cliffs of stone. Ramuh, preferring to isolate himself from man, retreated to his studies in the sparkling caves of Fociaugh Hollow. Valefor grew restless and took to the skies to see every corner of the globe. Her beloved Leviathan, Odin, and Bahamut did not care for the ephemeral whims of man. They believed their delicacy to be a weakness, so they withdrew from the world's gaze for a time.

One day, Eos alighted again on the planet to explore all that she had created, and she soon became entranced by a comely man with hair as black as night and eyes as blue as the seas. She absconded with him, gifting him the name Cephalus and bearing him two sons—Eosphoros and Hesperos—the morning and the evening stars.

But her divine children had discovered what she'd done and grown angry. The gods could not lie and make life with their own creations! Ifrit, lover of mankind, sided with Eos against his brethren, and for that, he was imprisoned in the Great Beyond. Valefor, mercurial and mysterious, flew away from man and god alike. When the Six came for Eos, she raised a katana high above her head in defense, but how could she turn against her own children? Still frozen in indecision, Eos was placed in the pit of hell. Her beloved Cephalus was slaughtered for his crime, and her precious sons were separated and sent to live among the humans.

The Messengers of Eos, created neither for strength nor battle (for no completely corporeal being could ever house the soul of a star), could not hope to save their Astral from her prison, so they chose instead to watch over her children. The Messengers of Time, Umbra and Pryna, watched over Hesperos, who had been taken in by House Mirus in the lofty hamlet of Tenebrae. The Messenger of Life, Carbuncle, chose to accompany Eosphoros, who had been taken in by House Izunia in windswept Caem. The children protected, the Messengers of Eos waited.

After a time, the empire of Solheim grew concerned for their treasured goddess's weakening in the sky and eventually discovered her dark prison deep below. The Goddess of the Sun withered in the black of hell, but the gods did not know how best to keep their mother burning in the sky and chained in prison. Solheim sought to assist the gods in keeping Eos alive in the darkness, but the hearts of men were full of avarice as well. They secretly desired to feed off her life force to gain her divine knowledge and immortality. Queen Flamma Scientia, descendent of the blessed Ignis, built the temples of Steyliff and Costlemark against her brother's pleas to feed the goddess the sunlight she needed to survive, but also to enfeeble her and to use her powers of Light, Life, and Time.

Slepnir, the holy Messenger of Odin, grew afraid for his mother's suffering at the hands of man and god alike. He had secretly agreed with Ifrit but had not spoken for fear of angering his tutelary Astral and being punished alongside Valefor's Emissary of the Winds. Desperate to make penance for his error, he ventured forth into the Underworld and challenged his Astral to the death. Their clash lasted days as they locked in deadly combat. But Slepnir was cunning, battling his Astral as he lured him up to the now unfamiliar surface, where he was able to smite Odin with his own black hood at the entrance to the Underworld at the Disc of Cauthess. Weakened by the fight and unable to fight off Titan, who guarded this particular gateway, Slepnir regretfully fled without freeing his mother, dropping Odin's black hood in his haste to escape.

Ifrit was enraged by the treatment of his mother, and he paced in his prison in the Great Beyond—the source of all good and evil, where the essence of both man and god originated. He picked up a stone coated in the blackest of the building blocks of life and hurled it at his prison bars. The stone missed his prison, but landed on Titan instead, who guarded the gate to the Underworld on the planet below. Ifrit hurled more meteors at his cage, but several missed their mark and fell where Gralea, Altissia, Insomnia, and Lestallum would one day be raised instead. More meteors finally set the God of Fire free before he loosed his fury on his once favored species.

The great Astral corpse of Odin still lay at Titan's feet, unleashing the destructive power of death even greater than that of the meteor. All mortal things great and small, plant and animal, were destroyed in a circular swathe around his corpse. Sworn to protect the balance of the planet, the Four tasked themselves with spiriting away the fallen body of their brother to a place where time was perpetually rewritten, and even death itself was reversed. But they could not make the journey on the surface of the planet and kill all in their path. For years, the Four meandered through the Underworld, searching for the secret entrance to the place now referred to as Pitioss, created by Solheim using the goddess's stolen Power of Time. There they deposited the Astral corpse of their brother where he could do no harm.

Too weak to escape on her own, Eos languished in her prison in the Underworld for many years as the war between Ifrit and Solheim raged. Mankind grew desperate as more and more of their once proud civilization fell into ruin. Formerly a people of time, space, technology, and magic, they were reduced to pockets of simple, pastoral folk. Many forgot the knowledge of their science, math, and magic in favor of survival as mages, scholars, and nobles disappeared through their dimensional gates to form civilizations anew.

The mercurial Valefor followed the people of Solheim through one such gate, convincing the dying Slepnir to accompany her for one last stand, and their existence was forgotten as their bodies were never seen again.

Some of the human race remained and remembered the curious arts of science and magic. Before she, too, disappeared, the aging Wicked Queen ordered that a weapon be created—a twisted disease that would allow Eos to live in the dark as they took possession of her mind. If they were fortunate, this illness would force the Infernian to docility and end the war, as well. They placed the plague into the common nipmoth and fed the swarm down the shaft of light that had been Eos's only source of hope. They nipped at her flesh, and she screamed at the darkness and the light.

Emerging from their sojourn to inter their fallen brother, the Four saw that mankind had been brought to near extinction and the planet ravaged. They stepped in to subdue the Infernian, but sensing his demise was near at hand, he committed one final act: to descend to the Underworld and free his mother from her prison. Yet her freedom was not ordained by fate. She fought and bit and clawed her son as he desperately sought the surface, believing that sunlight would restore her. But her body died in his arms upon her last glimpse of the star whose soul she housed.

Ifrit, too, was overtaken by the same mysterious malady, and as he fled with his mother's corpse, Bahamut halted the spread of Ifrit's illness by smiting him with his blade beneath the setting sun at the Rock of Ravatogh. The fire in Ifrit's heart was released to burn the scourge from their corpses, but Eos, with no Messenger to flee to, lived on inside her dead body, determined to keep the sun rising over her creation. Her own Draconian son ripped away her womb, the last pure piece of her corpse, as she lamented for all she had lost.

Though the rest of the rebels were struck from the memories of man, Bahamut sought to make an example of Ifrit. He froze Ifrit's Messenger body in stone and bestowed upon him the name Ifrit the Traitor so that all of mankind would know him for what he was.

The remaining people of the fallen Solheim rejoiced at being saved by the gods. But still they lived among the sins of their fathers, and those fathers had released a poison they could not control. Men and animals alike succumbed, transforming into monsters and disappearing with the dawn, only to emerge at night and prey upon those left of mankind.

When the Five stood and looked out over the destruction they had caused, they wept, their hearts full of remorse for what they had done to their mother and her creation. They feared the blight that had been loosed upon the world, but they did not possess their mother's gift of life and were powerless to stop it. There was just enough power left in their mother's womb to cure the world of its ills . . . if only they could gather the blight in one place first. They turned to the two houses of Eos's children—Mirus and Izunia. It was in the eldest son of House Izunia that they found the key to saving their planet and their lives.

Gifted with the Draconian Power of Steel and the healing Power of the Blessed Star, Ardyn Izunia was the only being capable of gathering the blight within himself. The Five could then wield the power of the womb to heal the world of him and the disease at the same time. But surely, a fickle man would not agree to lay down his life for the sake of the world. They created the prophecy of the Chosen King and the promise of a new kingdom founded in the name of light . . . so long as Ardyn Izunia first proved himself by healing the world of scourge.

The wandering sage agreed, his desire to lead and heal the people made evident in his ambition and resolve. The Five gifted the blessed house with the name of light—Lucis Caelum—in acknowledgement of their divine heritage and as a token of their pact. The younger brother, Somnus, also blessed with the iron will and astral swords of the Draconian, pledged his fealty to the cause.

The Five grew ever wearier from their war and loosing so much power upon the world. They would need to sleep, but the people could not be severed from communication with the gods. The Five turned to House Mirus, who could use their divine heritage to speak to the gods on behalf of the people. They gifted the eldest daughter the title of Oracle and a trident to defend all that which was good with her piousness and ferocious heart. To both Aera of the Zephyrnian and Aurora of Eosian Light, they bestowed the name Fleuret in honor of their unsurpassed beauty and valor.

The houses were thus united in a common goal, and the Five left the Crystal with them before drifting into a deep slumber.

The people also wished to choose a king from among whichever brother would save them and offered up their finest warrior—Gilgamesh—to ensure the greatest measure of success for their greatest hopes of survival.

Together, House Fleuret and House Caelum set about curing the world of its ills, but the younger Caelum soon grew weary and worried for their slow progress. Ardyn was able to heal only one person at a time, at great cost to himself, while the scourge spread faster than he could roam the lands to cleanse them. Hoping to earn the respect of the gods and be named King instead, Somnus burned the infected with the valiant Gilgamesh at his side, saving entire villages in a single night. A divide split the hearts of man between those who wished Somnus to become King and those who wished Ardyn to become King. Though the brothers disagreed with the other's methods, their relations remained amicable for a time. Each man concentrated instead on his own method of ridding the world of the plague and earning their place on the throne.

But this peace was not to last as Ardyn began to succumb to the very disease he hoped to cure. Madness would grip his mind from time to time as terror clutched at his heart. The Messengers of the gods, tasked with speaking to man on behalf of the divine, saw the corruption of their greatest hope and sought out his retinue to ask why they had forsaken their leader. They commanded that the noble houses force Ardyn to complete his task before Somnus would be crowned King of Lucis. Reluctantly, Somnus and Aera agreed.

They sought Ardyn among the people, hoping to speak to him and assist him in his task, but Ardyn found them first in the Temple of the Crystal. Afraid that the gods had somehow betrayed him, he pleaded to Somnus and Aera for aid. He begged them to help him overthrow the gods and start a kingdom anew, but they were appalled by his blasphemy and lust for power. When they refused, the betrayed Ardyn aimed to overthrow them as well. As brother clashed against brother and Oracle, Ardyn grasped the trident of the Oracle and slaughtered Aera Mirus Fleuret.

Realizing what he had become, Ardyn gathered up the slain figure of the Oracle and brought her to the Crystal, begging it to bring her back to life and name him King. But the Crystal sensed the threat that lay dormant in the heart of the sage and sought to heal and defend all at once. The womb's shell turned black as she blasted the Accursed back, weakening her and cursing the Anathema with everlasting life.

When he was unable to slay him, Somnus struck the Accursed from the stories of man and imprisoned him in Angelgard for a time, but the Anathema escaped to sow the seeds of his revenge among a burgeoning new empire as he awaited the birth of the true Chosen King. But Somnus never forgot his brother, and as he founded the kingdom of Lucis under the veil of his sorrow, he created the symbols of House Caelum to reflect the lessons he had learned: power came at a cost, and for the power of the gods, that cost must be death, or the world would fall to ruin.

The Messengers would need a new plan to save their planet of its blight. But even should another like Ardyn be born among the two houses, the Crystal was no longer strong enough to heal the plague, rid the world of Ardyn Izunia, and power the sun as the mind of Eos ever so slowly succumbed beneath the Rock of Ravatogh. They named Aurora Mirus Fleuret, gifted with the Power of Light, the new Oracle. Hand in hand with Somnus Lucis Caelum, the First Oracle traveled the world and set the scourge to slumbering until such time it could be eradicated from the land forever.

The Houses Caelum and Fleuret were commanded to multiply. The Caelums were gifted with the Ring of the Lucii so that they could collect the Power of Eos with each generation and use it to protect the Crystal, and the spirit of each Fleuret would be pulled into the Crystal upon their death. Though the Power of Eos grew weaker in the blood of her children over the passing eons—gods, Messengers, and man alike waited for the coming of the one True King, the final heir of Eos that would purge the darkness, bring back the dawn, and become the new avatar for the star.

* * *

Eos, the Light of Providence, saw and remembered All as he burned at the center of life, light, and time. Here in this place, all was as it should be; he saw no reason to diminish to corporeal form to save his children—divine and mortal alike—from their sins. Mortal life _was_ suffering, and should he return, he would suffer—just as humanity now suffered.

 _My dear Noctis_ , a plaintive plea rose above the multitude of whispers in his divine chorus, _you must remember . . .._

The shock of movement here in his ethereal womb of safety drew his attention. Among the rippling waves of Crystal light, a jagged-edged pile of indigo petals floated serenely past his sight, and he reached out to pluck the verdant stem from the air. Sylleblossom, it had been called, their symbol that _she_ was all right.

Luna.

 _I'm here, Noctis. Remember._

Noctis. That had been his name once. Noctis Lucis Caelum. He had loved her—Lunafreya Nox Fleuret.

And he remembered.

He remembered the years they had spent passing their souls along in brief notes scattered among silly stickers, photos, and pressed flowers—all symbols for what they had really felt all those years as they grew up . . . forever apart, the sun and the moon, never allowed to touch, the only lights across the dark, blighted sky. He recalled that ache in his chest when he first realized that she loved him. She had _loved_ him, his queen. He had promised to never let her down, and then he had. She'd died on that altar, right next to . . . Laura.

His love for Laura was delicate, fledgling—a sister he didn't quite know or understand, but like Luna, she had laid down her life that day for him to make it this far, for him to do his duty and save the world. She had been his dad's final gift—all the wisdom and power and protection he couldn't give himself. Given more time, she could've been etched onto his soul forever with the rest of them, but she'd been the one to teach him what love really was, to show him that those who followed him did so because of more than a sense of duty.

Like Prompto—it seemed at first glance that he hadn't given up much to be Noct's friend, but he'd started their road trip fresh from the comic book store, only trained in self-defense because he'd wanted to be a part of the retinue at Noct's wedding. He'd killed animals and people . . . and his own father and brothers to prove his support. He was always ready with an easy laugh and an offer to play a game. He'd never expected anything more from Noct than friendship—his first casual friend ever.

And Gladio. Noct didn't hold any illusions that Gladio had always loved or even respected him, but he'd given up his entire life, had offered his body and sweat and sword in service to keep him safe. Gladio had been his rival, his competition, the standard he could aspire to. He'd been the intimidating big brother challenging him and helping him to become more.

But no one had urged him to become more than Ignis, his oldest and most trusted friend since before he could remember. He'd endured the unbearable to raise and protect Noct, throwing his time and brains and brawn—everything—into making sure Noct had made it this far. Ignis wasn't a brother; Ignis was his conscience—love, duty, kindness, and ruthlessness. Noct reckoned he owed Iggy more than he owed anyone on this eos.

They were all still down there on that miserable little planet, suffering the punishment of sins they hadn't committed, but the sacrifices they'd all made in the prime of their ephemeral lives wouldn't be in vain. Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto had all traded their childhoods so that Noct could live those first and only twenty years of his life—the best they could give him. The least he could do was trade this omnipotent existence so that they could live the rest of theirs.

He remembered his promise to Ignis—for them, he would become the king they all needed, because even if he became a human one last time and allowed the deluge of divine power to burn his feeble mortal body to ash, he'd learned something Ardyn hadn't.

Somewhere along their journey, duty had become love, and love was sacrifice.

He loved his family, and now, the time had come to prove it.

" **The Light waxes full. Go forth to the kingdom where the Usurper awaits. Reclaim the throne, and fulfill the calling of the True King."**

"Hold on, guys. I'm on my way."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

A note here that I have altered Bahamut's speech so that the Crystal is filling Noct himself with its light instead of the Ring. The entire relationship between the King, the Ring, and the Crystal is a bit muddied and nonsensical, and changing this just makes more sense to me. Even within Bahamut's speech, he says, "…that the Light of Providence shine within," not "within the Ring," so it seems like even the developers had some issues. A lot of what happens here, Noct's experience, is not canon, but it written to reflect themes from Omen and Pitioss Theory.

Fun fact: Bahamut's face and eye textures actually belong to Noct (thanks, Nighty, for that info!). I've folded that into this story with the explanation that it's because they're related. Of course, Gilgamesh and Noct also share textures, but let's pretend that's not the case, shall we?

As to the Cosmogony origin story—you all learned everything in pieces and out of order…and hell, it's been a long story so far. I thought it might be helpful to get it all in one place in chronological order.


	99. Chapter 99

Nothing had changed since the last time he'd been in the waking world. Just as in Zegnautus—either two seconds or two lifetimes ago—the restaurant at Galdin Quay was dark, trashed, and crawling with daemons. Though his skin was crawling with the currents of electric power coursing through his veins, Noct found they weren't quite as divine here in this realm and in this body as he'd hoped. As one of the liches that had taken up residence near the steps to their old hotel room floated menacingly toward him, he found with disappointment that he had to reach out to the Crystal and pull a weapon just as he'd had to do as a mortal.

Yet for all that nothing had changed, so, too, had _everything_ changed. He might've been reduced to the typical limitations of this useless ephemeral flesh, but those thin scraps of meat and bone were the only barriers holding him together. He was a ticking time bomb, hovering on the edge of detonating and obliterating every particle of darkness on this planet, and the longer he stood around messing with goblins, tonberrys, and liches, the thinner that barrier grew. This body simply hadn't been built to house the soul of a star.

But he couldn't pop until the right moment, or he wouldn't be powerful enough to destroy every speck of darkness that plagued their soil and sky. Ardyn's body needed to die first, and then he had to call the gods from their realm and the Thirteen, whose voices whispered in his head but whose spirits still resided in the Ring.

The place Noct had once considered one of the most relaxing spots in the world to lie in the sun and catch a few fish now looked like a warzone, with trash and debris strewn over the formerly pristine wooden docks and empty wine bottles scattered among vacant suits and uniforms. As another tonberry melted into the filthy stone tiles at his feet, Noct's eyes fell to the circular bar in the center of the once tranquil restaurant—and the vibrant red chef's jacket splayed across what Iggy had once identified as proofing drawers . . . he only remembered because Iggy'd once given him a five-minute lecture on its conveniences and pitfalls when used in baking.

He'd forgotten the name of the chef that had worked here, but he did remember her being really nice. Had she really died at her post like this? Could she have been one of the tonberrys that had fallen beneath his sword? Noct wasn't sure how the scourge decided which humans became what daemons, but he hoped it wasn't as cheesy as chefs transforming into the daemons that wielded chef's knives. It implied the scourge had a sense of humor, and he found that idea kinda creepy. Maybe she and that guy who'd always sat next to the ferry dock had turned into those two liches by the exit to the boardwalk.

It was only once he'd handled the herd of hobgoblins and was creeping silently along the now quiet boardwalk that he allowed the fear and worry to clutch at his chest. It was as though he'd awakened to find himself in one of those post-apocalyptic zombie movies he and Prompto used to watch every Daemon's Night, but the stakes were so much more real now that people he knew, places he'd once considered a safe place to rest, were involved. Was he too late? Was there no one left but Gentiana and those Glaives that had met him by the yacht in Angelgard? How had everything gone to hell so quickly?

Noct glanced down at the black and silver dog trotting next to him—his toenails clicking in soft, dull thuds on the wooden boards and his breath coming in heavy pants as he kept his eyes locked on the parking lot up ahead. Noct's friends must've been alive somewhere, or they had been recently, at least, to write the note telling him to meet them at Hammerhead and to order those Glaives to protect the isle where he was supposed to wake up. As he drew closer to the parking lot, he noticed that while there were there no cars in good enough condition to steal, there _were_ two groaning, growling iron giants patrolling the small patch of asphalt. Even with Umbra as a divine escort and Gentiana's promise on Angelgard to see him again soon, he dreaded the long, daemon-infested walk to Hammerhead.

It was a long shot, but he reached into his pants pocket to pull out his phone, which he'd kept with him after communications went out in Tenebrae more out of habit than anything else.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath as he held the power button down, but the screen stayed black and lifeless. "Damn it. Well?" he asked softly, looking down at Umbra. "You got any suggestions?"

Unsurprisingly, Umbra simply looked up at him, his tongue lolling out to the side. A gust of frigid wind blew across the cape, piercing through his short-sleeved jacket and t-shirt and making him shiver a little. If he wanted to keep warm in this sunless world, he needed to keep moving.

"Come on," he said softly to Umbra, switching off his light. He silently skirted around the lot and up the winding road, remembering how vividly bright and colorful it had been the first time he'd come here with the gang. Now the careful tread of his boots through the dead grass and over the cracked pavement sounded overly loud to his ears, even over the wind whipping his hair flat against his head and face. Though he couldn't see them in the near pitch black, Noct could hear the rustling of daemons in the dead underbrush on all sides of him, hiding under the towering arches or nestled among rocks hidden in the steep inclines. In the distance, the bright colors of a flock of ice and thunder bombs glowed eerily purple and blue as they floated over the terrain with echoing growls of laughter.

Noct reached the intersection of Galdin Road and Leiduscae Highway and looked both left and right, sighing at the dark road. Following the highway all the way to Hammerhead wasn't the shortest way by a longshot, but he'd have a better chance at being spotted on the larger road rather than taking the pass by the tomb of the Clever. If he was lucky, he might be able to hitch a ride in Longwythe . . . if there was anyone left still alive.

No. He _couldn't_ be too late. The gods wanted to save the world just as much as he did; there was no way they'd let him linger in the Crystal for too long. How long _had_ he been gone, anyway? As he stood there contemplating his next move, he ran his hands through his hair, noticing that it was a little longer and unstyled. What if it had been a whole year since he'd last been in the waking world? It might also account for why his voice sounded hoarse and raspy. And _tired_ —he closed his eyes, watching the swirls of power dance behind his eyelids, and he'd never felt more exhausted in his life. There wasn't much time—for this body _or_ for Lucis, it seemed.

Get moving.

Noct had taken a few steps down the road toward Hammerhead and was just beginning to wonder what would happen if he tried to call for Byrrus when Umbra's single, sharp bark made him nearly jump out of his skin. He spun to the shoulder of the road, summoning his sword to his hand.

"What is it boy?" he asked softly, squinting into the distance. Was it just him, or was the horizon growing lighter? "Something's coming."

The gentle roar of a motor began as a murmur carried on the wind and grew louder as that glow crested the hill to reveal a set of headlights. Flashes of anemic flesh fled from the piercing light as it drew closer—daemons that hadn't detected Noct's presence as he'd silently made his way through the dark. The faint gleam of dark metal grew larger as he stepped closer to the middle of the road so that the driver could more easily spot him, and he let out a relieved breath as the truck slowed to a stop just before the turn to Galdin Road.

"Your Majesty!" a guy about his age said animatedly as he rolled the window down. By the looks of the black scarf, vest, and the scar under his right eye, he looked like he was probably a Hunter, but as Noct's eyes adjusted to the dim glow coming from the cabin instruments, he thought he could make out the Hammerhead logo centered on the front of his cap.

"Yeah?" he asked suspiciously. The guy looked like he recognized Noct, perhaps had even expected to find him there, which was impossible. Noct hadn't exactly announced his return, and if his voice was anything to go by, he doubted he could even recognize himself right now.

"It's me, Talcott." His tone grew more hesitant. "My grandpa served the Amicitia family? I was helping Dave clear out Caem when the guys sent me to come and find you."

Talcott . . . there was something familiar about that name—something tender, something that needed protection. He'd lost a grandfather in this disaster, hadn't he? Right after Noct had lost his dad, and he remembered thinking he wanted nothing more in the world than to protect that kid from harm as Noct's friends had protected him. The image of a bright-eyed, brown-haired boy jumping up and down on a dock and begging him to come back soon passed over his eyes, and it all came flooding back.

"Talcott?" he asked, examining more closely the guy he'd sworn a minute ago had been his age. How long _had_ he been gone? "No way."

"Yes way. Welcome back," he said with a chuckle. He jerked his head toward the passenger seat. "Climb on in, and I'll take you to them."

By the time he passed around the dark, behemoth cab of the Gracchus Coe and hopped up onto the canvas bench next to Umbra, the guy claiming to be Talcott was leaning back into the seat, holding a small receiver up to his mouth.

"Yes, sir, that's right."

Noct's breath caught in his throat as the familiar, smooth voice he'd heard ever since it'd cracked and deepened into its current baritone blared through the small box set on top of the dash.

"I'd like a word with him, if you please."

"Hm? Just a second." Talcott turned to him, holding the out receiver.

No. They weren't going to do it like this. It'd obviously been a very long time since they'd last seen each other, and Noct had no idea what Iggy wanted to say to him after all these . . . years, apparently, but there was no way in Ifrit's fresh hell he was gonna reunite over a _radio_.

"Tell him he can have it in person."

Talcott hesitated, still holding the receiver out for several seconds until he realized Noct was serious and brought it back to his mouth. "He said you can have it in person."

They were clearly meant to have heard the exasperated sigh over the airwaves, as Noct knew Iggy'd had to hold down the button to transmit it. But he couldn't suppress the smile that spread over his face as he heard Iggy's impatient reply. "I suppose I should have expected no less. As testy as he was after a typical night's sleep, he's likely worse than a rampaging behemoth right now. I leave him in your unfortunate hands until you get here."

"Okay," Talcott replied, eyeing Noct nervously. "We should be there shortly, sir."

"Doubtless his attitude will entice you to get here more quickly, but I encourage you to drive safely nevertheless."

He'd missed this—Iggy bitching about his sleeping habits and the state of his clothes, Laura making nonsense comments about truncated elephants as they passed the grazing herds of garulas, Gladio on his ass about not taking out as many Nifs as he had in their last operation, and Prompto almost getting all of them killed turning around in the middle of a base invasion to go back for a cactuar figurine he'd spotted—one of the five currently lined up along the dashboard in front of him, actually. It felt like centuries since he'd last lounged in the back seat as Iggy drove them over the green hills of Duscae, and in a way, it had been. The memory of being omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient was too much for his mortal mind to recall clearly, but the barest traces of the imprint left behind by the experience were still there, making him feel like he didn't quite belong here in his skin or his memories. Would the other four pick up on that and act differently as a result? Eos, he hoped not.

"Wow, I can't tell you how good it is to see you again," Talcott said once they'd gotten up to speed.

"Yeah. You sure look different, though."

"You think so?" he chuckled. "Guess I've grown some these ten years."

Talcott's words seemed to press down on his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs as he let out on a shaky breath, "Ten years . . .?"

 _Ten years_ , half his life before he'd leaped into the Crystal. In a world like this, so _much_ could've happened—were all the guys still alive? Had they thought about him at all, or had they all moved on to other things?

Talcott chuckled as though he hadn't just delivered the shattering news. "The guys must be pinching themselves right now."

"Where are they anyway?" he tried to ask as casually as he could.

"It depends. I think Prompto's already in Hammerhead; he's usually there helping Miss Cindy with repairs or a little extra muscle out on the road. Gladio's mostly in Lestallum these days if he isn't out on a mission. And Ignis . . .."

"What?"

His Dad had always been very clear about their roles, even when they were kids, so it'd always been established that if something were to happen to Noct and he didn't have kids yet, the crown was to fall to Iggy, as he was the first seat on Noct's council. His dad had even gone so far as to naming Ignis a duke to make things easier 'should the worst occur.' Noct guessed that with his ten-year absence, Iggy had probably been acting as King Regent in his stead.

Talcott confirmed his suspicions as he said, "Well, he kinda took over for you after you left. He's spent most of the last ten years either ruling out of Lestallum or tomb raiding to look for some answers to all this. But it's . . . we wouldn't've made it without him. It's like he saw everything coming—the darkness, the food shortages, even some of the daemon attacks. 'The man who can see in the dark,' some call him."

"Are he and Laura still together?"

"Oh yeah, they're still married, as far as I know. But they're not really together that often. She's either out in Myrlwood working on a cure or helping Prompto with training the chocobos in Caem. It isn't often you see the four of them together nowadays. They still work as a team every once in a while, but each has their own set of tasks to keep them busy."

"Is that so?" he asked thoughtfully. Were they all really so different that their duty to Noct had been the only thing uniting all of them? It kinda made him sad to think about what they would all do when he was gone, but he supposed that after this long, their childhood road trip really was over. After everything they'd been through, Noct would be satisfied just to know that they were living the life they wanted—that whatever they were doing, they were happy.

"Yeah," Talcott continued, "each of the places that are still up and running has its own purposes. Lestallum is the seat of the government, where all the old countries have a seat on the Council, but Lucis is technically the ruling seat as the host country. Caem and Myrlwood don't get power from EXINERIS, but they run their own operations off wind or water for mechanical repairs, land and water livestock, medicine, and science research. I think it's kind of a secret where our food is grown, so I don't know about that."

"Hmm," he replied, letting his fingers drift absentmindedly to the back of Umbra's fluffy neck to idly toy with the warm fur and watch the golden eddies of the dog's aura wrap itself around his fingers. It was better than the alternative—staring out the window into the endless dark punctuated by fiery swords of red giants and glowing orbs of elemental bombs.

The drive took far longer than he remembered. Noct had to admit that he allowed his racing mind to wander here and there as he tried to imagine what it must've been like these past ten years for all the people Talcott was updating him on, but he was always jerked back to the present when their headlights caught the flash of pale flesh as it skittered into the dark before he could identify it. Miles flew underneath them as Talcott continued to speak, and Noct leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to picture Gladio uniting the entire world's militaries under one banner, Prompto training that military's mounts and keeping every piece of machinery left on Eos running, Laura founding a secret farm to feed the world as she tried to find the cure for Starscourge, and Iggy exploring the world to find a way to save him as he kept civilization intact.

If he thought back to those sunlit days when he was still a kid believing he was all grown up, Noct thought he could remember the five of them crammed in his dad's car—Laura chastising Prompto, who would lean between the front seats to screw with the radio dials as Iggy cruised them down this very stretch of asphalt and Gladio kept a sharp eye out for a decent hunt to make a quick buck. Gone. It was all gone.

No. Not all of it. What was left to save was most important.

Everyone had endured. But they'd moved on. Would they still help see him through this?

"I swear I'll make things right, Talcott," he promised, staring out into the void and trying _not_ to imagine what destruction the sunlight would reveal if it were to rise now. "Trust me: you have the king's word."

As Talcott turned left onto Lucis Highway, he replied in a hushed voice, "Thank you, Your Majesty. I believe in you, you know? I never stopped, even after all these years."

Noct didn't know how to respond to the emotional display, so he instead locked his eyes on the patch of bright white standing out for miles like an oasis in the desert. His already thready pulse swelled against his neck as Talcott slowed to a stop in front of the high chain link, barbed-wire gate set between concrete walls that looked like they'd been salvaged from old imperial bases.

"We've arrived," Talcott said, lifting a hand to greet the men standing sentry with guns held at the ready. He waited until a man and a woman had opened the gate wide enough to drive through before pulling forward to park between a couple of Culless Munitions trucks. "Everyone'll be so happy to see you."

Would they be? He hoped so. After having been gone such a long time, would he even recognize them? Would they recognize him? They'd been family once, and he still felt the shadow of that burning in his otherwise hollowed heart, binding him to this eos. He wasn't sure he could handle it if he walked up to the three familiar silhouettes strolling toward them at this very moment and that indefinable feeling of family was gone.

With a deep sigh, he stepped out of the truck and shut the door behind him. He could see them clearly now as he turned to face them and they stepped into the truck's headlights—Iggy, Gladio, and Prompto—looking almost the same as the day he'd left them . . . even wearing the same clothes.

He didn't really know what to say, so he settled for grunting casually, "Hey."

"'Hey'? That's all you have to say for yourself—after all this time?" Gladio barked huskily, stepping up close to shove at his shoulder. Noct teetered back a step before Gladio cuffed him around the neck to pull him into a crushing one-armed hug.

"Noct, it's you! It's really you!" Prompto cheered, and though his voice was a little wearier, a little scratchier, it was still nearly bubbling over with that same enthusiasm he'd always remembered.

"Is it?" Noct asked, throwing his arm over Prompto's shoulders, but Prompto instead pulled him in for a back-slapping squeeze. "I hadn't realized."

He was still being jostled when it grew silent. Gladio and Prompto went still, taking a step back and looking solemnly at a point over his shoulder. He turned.

"Iggy," he croaked to the tall, long figure standing back and watching the reunion quietly.

His expression remained neutral for a moment as Noct met his steady, quiet gaze. Noct frowned at the three-foot space separating them, beginning to grow uneasy, when Ignis tilted his head and lifted his chin. "Well, well," he said sardonically, his mouth spreading into the same obnoxious, all-knowing smirk that used to piss Noct off so much as a kid. "You kept us waiting."

Noct took three steps forward and reached up to slap a hand on Iggy's shoulder. "I'm worth the wait. Believe me." Leaning to glance behind Iggy, he asked heavily, "Laura?"

Surely, Talcott would've said something if she'd died? Maybe something had happened on the way here?

Iggy pursed his lips, using a single gloved finger to push his glasses further up on his nose. "Asleep in the camper. She'll be ready to leave when we are."

"Trouble?"

"Nothing warranting royal attention. It's been handled," Iggy said smoothly in that tone that told Noct that whatever it was that had put Laura down had been a big deal, but he decided not to push the matter. "Let's go inside."

Up until the moment he stepped over the threshold, Noct had mostly been able to maintain a sense of distance at seeing the places he'd grown attached to fallen to ruin, but on laying his eyes on that same brightly-lit diner completely transformed, it finally hit him. What had once been a bustling hub of diners digging into their greasy food as they waited to get their cars fixed had now become a slayer's station—filled with crates of supplies, radio transceivers, weapons, and a single exhausted Hunter slumped in one of the booths in the corner. Takka's Pit Stop had been his first meal outside Insomnia. He could still smell that same heavy scent of oil on the air from those Hammerhead Hot Sandwiches and remembered the fluttering hope and excitement that he'd get a chance to _live_ a little before finally seeing Luna and meeting his obligations.

"So what's the tactical situation, Specs?" he asked as Iggy led them toward a few booth seats arranged near the bathrooms. "I wanna get close to the city, maybe get some sleep at a haven, then head in."

Ignis sat on the bench, crossing his legs and running a gloved hand carefully through the strands of his new hairdo. "We have General Cor taking out bases that have been established since our departure, as well as any other surprises that may crop up."

"Yeah, wasn't Aranea s'posed to be helping with that?" Prompto asked as he settled on the bench across.

"She hasn't been feeling well lately, and I needed someone with experience to handle matters in Lestallum while I was away, so I ordered her and Lady Iris to take over the Lucian seat on the Council."

"She's not infected, is she?"

"No. She's been thoroughly examined, and I believe the details of her condition will reveal itself in time," Ignis replied with a slight twitch of his lips. "Back to the matter at hand, I don't expect trouble beyond the daemons, but should we grow fatigued after handling Ifrit, there's a Guardian base established where we can take refuge for the night."

"And Ardyn?" Noct asked.

"He was last seen in Myrlwood three days ago, though we have reason to believe he's returned to the Citadel alongside Ifrit."

"Looks like that creep scourged his Messenger body," Prompto added. "He's taking Ardyn's orders now."

"No surprise there," Gladio said. "Gentiana warned us, and we gotta fulfill our promise to her."

" _My_ promise," Noct reminded him, because he was long done with them paying for his obligations. He leaned forward, slapping his knees and sighing. "All right, so what do we need to get done before we go?"

"Noct," Iggy said, holding out a hand to hover over his arm and keep him from standing. "It would be unwise to rush, should you need to rest."

He did his best to shove aside that familiar weight of the future threatening to pull him under as he hadn't experienced for ten years, but he stood anyway and smirked down at him. "Been asleep for ten years, Specs. Time I did my job. Should I go wake Laura up while you guys get ready? We can come up with a plan at the haven."

"My, what kingly confidence you've acquired!" Ignis chuckled.

Noct looked down at his feet and shook his head. "Yeah," he replied with a huff of a laugh. Iggy didn't get it. The decisiveness he'd been searching for his entire life wasn't because he'd taken a ten-year nap and suddenly woken up a king. Something had happened to him in there, and he'd become far more than a king. Far more than human.

"We should saddle up the chocobos in case we need 'em," Gladio broke through the silence with a small grunt as he pushed himself to his feet.

"The chocobos?" Noct asked hopefully. "Byrrus? How long do chocobos live, anyway?"

"About forty years," Prompto answered. "Our flock's not even middle aged yet."

"Awesome. You guys saddle 'em up, and I'll get Laura."

"She's awake already, but she'll be out soon, should you be requiring a word. Meet us behind the diner when you're ready," Iggy said.

Prompto leapt to his feet and bounced his way to the front door. "Yeah! And after the chocobos, we got a surprise for you!"

Noct followed behind Iggy as the four of them stepped out into the cold night air, but they separated from him as they turned to the right and followed the curve of the building around back. He kicked idly at the gravel beneath his boots as he strolled closer to the camper; then he threw himself into a shitty plastic chair by the table with a sigh. His body seemed to be registering the chill still, as evidenced by the hairs on his arms standing on end, but the fire beginning to burn under his skin kept him from truly feeling it.

Running out of time.

Laura's soft steps thudded along the length of the camper, and Noct leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, feeling for the first time that unmistakable glow of her aura—a lesser copy of his own roiling golden power. That moment in Galdin when Ardyn had first met Laura suddenly became clear to understand—no wonder he'd immediately identified her as a god.

She could feel him, too. He could smell her recognition in the waves of immortality pouring off her even with the camper walls between them.

Which was why neither of them had to exchange a word of greeting when she opened the door, stepped off the camper stairs, and stood over him without even a hint of astonishment at his presence. He tilted his head to look up at her. She looked about as tired as he felt, her dull blue eyes pulling down at the corners as she stared down at him with a heartbroken expression. She was wearing the formal, high-collared Kingsglaive uniform they all were to have worn to his wedding, the symbols they were going to have to change into before he finally returned home.

"Hey," he said softly, standing to see her better. She sucked in a breath as they drew close enough to touch, and he could feel it—that familiar burn and sense of wrongness that made him want to rip her apart, but he was no longer a pawn of the greater powers on this world. He was its master, so he mastered the feeling—told the power that Laura was a friend and that he would countenance no harm to her.

"It's good to see you."

"Yeah. You too."

She searched his face for a long moment before she said, "It gets better . . . after a while, you get used to it. Being around loved ones helps."

"You didn't have that."

She frowned, opening her mouth a little to answer, but then hesitated. "It was . . . more complicated in my situation."

"Well, I'll be dead soon, so I don't think getting used to it's gonna be a problem," he sighed, letting the words fall between them like stones. There was no point pretending with her.

"Don't be silly," she snapped. "You know very well wherever you're going after this, you won't be dead." Her voice grew softer and sadder. "He tried . . . gods, so hard. He fought for you. Traveled all of Eos looking for a way to save you."

"He had no way of knowing I was already dead," he said wearily, gesturing for her to walk in the direction he'd seen the guys disappear in. He waited until they'd taken a few steps across the parking lot before he dared to ask, "Did you?"

"I know you all think me some sort of master puppeteer," she said tartly, "but do you honestly believe I would've let him risk his life for ten years on a fruitless endeavor? It was difficult enough to set him free with the slim hope he'd succeed."

"Sorry." He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck, wondering how he could still be this bad at holding a conversation after everything he'd been through.

"Never mind. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yeah. I'm not really worried about winning. More about everyone else making it through."

"Well . . .," she replied drawing out the word as she looked out past the fence line, "from my guess, half of Ardyn wants to destroy the world, and the other half just wants to die. The fact that the latter half even exists stacks heavily in our favor. Just remember—mercy, Noctis. Threatening him does no good; I've tried. Showing him that mercy is the only hope there is for the survival of the ones you love. Remember that there is darkness in all of us."

She didn't need to tell him that—not anymore. He remembered all too well what it felt like to lose everything he was as the power had washed over him. In those moments or years when he'd forgotten who he was, there was nothing either good or evil. Only thinking, only _remembering_ made it so—but no matter what any immortal tried to tell him, his human experience insisted that good and evil mattered.

They had passed around the side of the diner by the time Noct worked up the courage to say, "You look older."

"Yeah."

He couldn't really name any discernible change to her physically—perhaps it was the way her skin seemed just a little more imperfect, how she appeared exhausted in a way that wouldn't be erased with a good night's sleep—but while he'd always guessed her to be no older than twenty, she now appeared to be more in her late twenties to his eyes.

"Didn't think you did that."

"I don't." Nodding toward where Noct could see Iggy checking the bridle buckles on Calima up ahead, she added, "He does."

Noct squinted into the glare of the floodlights as they drew closer to the group. He'd been the most shocked with Gladio's transformation as they'd sat there on those booth seats in the harsh, revealing light of that diner—those lines around his eyes, his face a little hollowed and hardened. Prompto's face had filled out a little, the skin under his eyes becoming heavier and lined. But Ignis . . . something had happened to him when he'd turned twenty; he'd turned forty and just stopped after that. Besides looking like that one week he'd had to prepare for his Crownsguard induction ceremony and the orphan's charity ball at the same time, Noct hadn't noticed any signs that ten years had passed for him, but if she was seeing something . . ..

"Oh. But you're gonna . . . stay with him, right? Take care of him after I'm gone?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" she said irritably, shaking her head. "He's not your pet goldfish. He can survive on his own without any of us, you know."

"I didn't mean it like that. I just . . . I want him to be happy. All of them. Do more than just survive." Glancing at her from the side of his eye, he added, "You too."

He'd messed up this conversation so many times already, so he figured he had nothing to lose by tentatively reaching out to take her hand—warm and soft and burning him with that incompatible golden power.

 _You're like a sister to me_ , he wanted to say aloud, but he couldn't find the words. Maybe she'd hear his thoughts and understand.

"He makes me happy," she sighed, leaning into his shoulder and squeezing his fingers. "Of course I'll stay with him. Just because the rest of you are only beginning to see the long-term consequences of this relationship doesn't mean we didn't know from the beginning."

"You've been wrong before."

They'd come too close to the others for privacy, so he took the hint when she didn't reply beyond pursing her lips together tightly. He turned instead toward the soft coo and the large, scarlet bird shifting foot to foot, stretching his golden beak toward him.

"Hey, buddy," he chuckled, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You remember me after all this time?"

"Hold still, you spaz," Prompto laughed, settling a hand on the dancing bird's back as he tightened the girth strap.

"I missed you, too," he said softly. Byrrus settled and lowered his head, pressing his crest against Noct's chest as he dug his fingers deeper to reach the downy soft underlayers. There was always something so calming about the chocobo's presence that soothed his swirling thoughts. It seemed like that tranquility after so many years spent with the birds had finally, _finally_ infected Prompto a little. "You really have come a long way."

Prompto didn't look up from Byrrus's buckle. "Had to become a functioning adult sooner or later," he chuckled.

"Doesn't feel like you've actually changed, though."

Gladio snorted from his spot a couple birds down. "Not nearly as much as he claims."

"Hey!" Prompto cried out indignantly. "You gonna spoil my moment?"

"What's there to spoil? We're just saddlin' up some birds here."

Noct laughed a little to himself as Byrrus attempted to wedge his giant head under his armpit. "Y'know, even after all this time, _none_ of you guys has changed a bit."

"I believe we have considerably as individuals, but we no longer need to ask one another for help in times of need," Iggy said as he slid Saracchian's bridle over his head. "We've reached the point where that sort of synergy is second nature."

"Some things haven't changed though," Laura added. "We're still the ones watching your six."

"Huh?" he asked, but instead of replying, she nodded toward a spot behind him.

Something nudged Noct in the shoulder, pushing him forward against Byrrus's head. Byrrus let out a soft squawk in protest as a white head covered in black splotches thrust itself over Noct's shoulder. "Um, what _are_ you?" he laughed. The chocobo tilted its head to blink a single, black-patched eye at him.

"Hey! That's Bessie!" Laura said defensively.

"Newest member of the herd, or flock, I guess," Gladio said.

"Speaking of guys who haven't changed . . . Gladio," Prompto accused. "Heard a rumor you're engaged to someone, but I kinda find that hard to believe."

"Seriously? Engaged?" Noct asked, turning to Gladio, who gave a half-hearted shrug.

"No wedding just yet."

"No wedding _ever_ ," Prompto laughed.

"Hey, don't hate me."

"Hate the game. Yeah, yeah."

"So we can't expect a _formal_ introduction for some while, then," Iggy said.

Gladio sighed, tugging at the hair tied at the back of his head. "Yeah. At least not 'til all of this is over. Can't in good conscience leave a girl to worry while I rush headlong into danger."

"She's hardly the wait at home and worry type. I'm sure she's fine," Laura said.

"Wait, so you've met her?" Prompto asked, jogging to Saracchian's side to give her a little shove. "No fair!"

When she gave a mysterious lift of her eyebrow in return, and it didn't look like Gladio was going to add anything, Noct asked, "Who is it?"

"I'll tell you later," she replied in a low voice, "but let's say times haven't changed that much."

Iggy gave Saracchian and Calima a final pat and stepped back. "We likely won't be requiring their service in the next couple of days, if Insomnia is as infested as General Cor claims."

So . . . this was probably it, then. Noct leaned his face in close to Byrrus's ear. "Just in case—goodbye, old friend," he whispered. "And thank you." He let his fingers trail across the soft, small feathers that grew from the underside of his chin as he stepped away.

"Well, fellas," Gladio sighed as they all turned back toward the camper, "we're homeward bound at last. Time to suit up."

Prompto skipped several steps forward to throw his arm around Noct's neck. "Finally get to rock these threads! I've been waiting since we got to Altissia."

"Wear them with pride," Ignis said from behind them. "We'll be representing the very top of His Majesty's forces."

"Yeah, just hope they still fit," Noct muttered.

"Huh. Easy for you to say," Gladio said. "You're not the one that's been out here eating and working out the last ten years."

"What's wrong, babe?" Laura asked. "Afraid won't be able to fit all those muscles into that coat?"

Prompto leapt up onto the stairs and yanked the door open as Gladio answered, "More concerned about that collar cuttin' off my air."

"All right, all right. You boys get dressed, and no posing for the mirror, okay? We don't have that much time," Laura said, casting Noct a concerned glance before letting a teasing smile take over her expression.

"What's the rush?" Prompto asked, using the door as leverage to lean far out over the stairs. "I mean, yeah, we wanna do it ASAP for the people out there, but I do wanna take some pics."

"The rush is that we need to get out to the haven before I starve to death," Noct said as he sidled past Prompto through the doorway. "Been ten years since I last ate."

Laura waited outside while the rest of them changed, and it was only once Noct had finished dressing and clamping on that damn knee brace that he took a deep breath and allowed himself a moment to look in the mirror attached to the back of the bedroom door for the first time.

Those ten years slapped him in the face.

It shouldn't've come as such a shock that he didn't recognize the weary, rugged man staring back at him as he stood awkwardly in that rundown camper wearing the King's raiment, but he hadn't expected to see so much of his dad in the shape of his jaw and mouth, the determined expression in his eyes. Growing up in the Citadel, he'd always been told by his dad and servants alike that he looked far more like his mom, but seeing the parent he'd known his whole life reflected in his face was comforting—like his dad was there with him.

"You are there, aren't you?" he murmured to his haggard reflection, trying to find himself in those eyes that suddenly looked so much older. The whispers in his head swelled, calling him home. "I know. I'll be there soon."

"Majesty?" came Iggy's gentle voice, followed by three precise taps at the door.

"It's open, Specs. Come on in."

The door opened slowly as Noct stepped back, but Ignis paused when his head poked around the door, his scrutinizing gaze traveling from his shoes to his hair.

"I don't want to take the time for a shave and haircut," Noct said defensively. It wasn't like they were about to attend the wedding these were originally for, anyway. "We're pressed for time."

"No, it's not that. I was thinking . . . how proud I am to see you as king at last."

"Specs . . .."

Iggy's eyes drifted away to a spot just beyond Noct's right shoulder. "How was it, when you landed in Galdin?"

"Crawling with daemons, but nothing Umbra and I couldn't handle."

He still didn't make eye contact as a crease formed between his brows. "What sort of daemons were they? We've recently discovered evidence that one's daemon type is dictated by genetic pools and place of origin. I suppose we'd better begin cataloging—"

"No, you don't," Noct interrupted. "Because after tomorrow, it's all gonna be over, for good."

Ignis let his mouth drop open to breathe in a soft gasp. "Noct, I'm . . .."

It was clear that Iggy wasn't going to finish his thought, but for once in his life, Noct knew exactly what was going through his head.

"It's okay, Specs." He stepped to the side so that he was in Iggy's line of sight. "There was nothing you could've done. You hear me? _Nothing_. No amount of tomb raiding or studying would've changed a thing. I need you to know that. The heirs of Eos are gathered for the cleansing."

That expression Noct had always believed to be made of stone crumpled.

"I looked . . . _everywhere_ ," he choked on a hitching breath.

"I know, and I wouldn't have made it all this way without you guys," Noct said softly. "In the end, I might not have you at my side, but I'll always have you in my heart."

Iggy looked down suddenly at his hand. Pulling at his fingers one by one, he removed his heavy, black Kingsglaive glove and reached out tentatively. Noct immediately recognized the gesture and grasped Iggy's warm fingers for a second before reaching with his other hand to cup Iggy's between his. He didn't really remember this scene because he'd only been four at the time, but his dad had told him the story of the first time he'd met Iggy so many times that he felt like he remembered it.

"Thanks for everything, Iggy."

He'd been horrible to Iggy ever since, competing with him for his dad's attention, dragging him off and getting him into trouble, treating him like a pest instead of a person and brother his entire life— _using_ him. They'd come . . . _he'd_ come such a long way since those days, and a handshake just wasn't gonna cut it anymore.

Just as the two silent tears streaked down Iggy's cheeks, Noct tugged him close and reached—one arm over his shoulder and one around his ribs to hold him tight. But as Ignis wrapped his long arms around him and returned the embrace, Noct noted how much he hadn't changed beneath the emptiness of godhood. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the words out.

 _I love you. My friend. My brother._

Noct could only hope some part of Iggy heard those words, just as Iggy's chest swelling against his to release in shaky breaths over his shoulder were passing on the same message.

"Come on," he said when he pulled away with a smile and a gentle fist to Iggy's shoulder. "Prompto mentioned a surprise? Let's go find out what it is."

Ignis swiped at his face and grew serious and determined instantly, the expression of a man on a mission taking over his features as he gave a sharp nod and turned to lead him out of the camper.

"Umm, where're we going?" Noct asked as they passed through the empty camper and out to the parking lot.

The crunch of gravel caught his attention, and he spun around to see the other three falling into step behind them.

"You'll see!" Prompto grinned, nodding toward the garage they were headed toward. He followed Prompto's gesture to see two familiar silhouettes in yellow and red Hammerhead uniforms leaning against the wall outside the door and lounging in the patio chair that still rested beneath the now useless umbrella.

"There ya are!" Cid called out from his chair, groaning a little as he sat up. Though the once-white reclining chair and matching patio table had greyed and flaked with time, Cid seemed to have aged better than Noct had, appearing nearly identical to the last time Noct had seen him. "I see ain't much has changed. Still runnin' late an' takin' yer damn time!"

"Hi Cid," Noct said, reaching out to shake his hand.

"You bin here five minutes," Cindy laughed from her spot nearby, but there was something less youthful, less effervescent about the sound of her voice. Her appearance was more subdued as well. She'd traded out her short shorts and cut off jacket for a pair of jeans and a longer, warmer bright yellow Hammerhead jacket. "Don't pretend like you bin waitin' here forever, Paw Paw!"

"Hey Cindy. How've you been?" Noct asked.

"Good," she said with a smile, but it didn't reach her tired green eyes. "Even better knowin' yer safe n' sound."

"Yeah. Hope I didn't make you worry too much."

"Only a little. I reckon my sufferin' ain't even half as bad as what you've been through. I just bin here—tryin' to figure out this machine that'll produce a lotta light without usin' a lotta energy. Prompto can tell ya, it's bin a real bandersnatch tryin' to git it to work, but that ain't all I bin workin' on these past ten years."

"Oh yeah? What've you been—"

She didn't give him the chance to finish as she reached behind her to shove the massive garage door aside.

Oh, gods.

There she sat—gleaming in the light of the garage—the glossy black car both he and his dad had once depended on as they rode away from their home to grow up.

"It's the Regalia," he let out on a breath, stepping forward to run gentle fingertips down the familiar curve of her hood. "There you are, girl."

"We won't be able to take her all the way into the city, but she certainly deserves to lay her lights on her home road once again," Ignis said. "She's fully restored and in perfect condition for our journey home, thanks to Miss Cindy."

"Aww, shucks. It was gittin' her here that was the real work," Cindy said with a smile, bending to swipe at a speck of dust on the hood. "I just did what I always do."

Noct opened the back door behind the driver's, holding his cape out to the side and sliding into his usual seat as though it hadn't been ten years since he'd last done so. The sharp tang of Cindy's preferred leather cleaner filled his nostrils as he took a deep breath and settled into the seat.

"Thanks, Cindy," he said, opening his eyes and stroking at the familiar black leather on either side of him.

As Gladio, Prompto, Iggy, and Laura slid into their usual spots, Noct shut his door and rolled down the window so Cindy could place her elbows on the sill and lean in.

"Least I could do. Y'all headed up to King's Rose to spind the night?" Noct looked over to Laura, who shrugged. "Shoot," she added at his confused expression. "I mean, Brackham Haven?"

"That's the closest haven to Insomnia," Gladio said.

The high-pitched whine of the starter kicking over followed by the growl of the engine before the Regalia settled into a purr almost brought tears to Noct's eyes. Gods, he was being stupid. But Cindy's response distracted him from the memories pouring back into his head.

"Good. Ain't no more fittin' place if ya ask me."

"Pardon me," Iggy said, "but why is it called that?"

"Oooh! I know!" Prompto said, jostling Noct as he leaned forward and bounced in his seat.

"You'll see," she said with a wink and a tip of her cap. "Local legend 'round these parts. I reckon ya ain't gonna find a luckier spot. Now git movin', and ya'll come back in one piece, ya hear? Specially you, Prompto. I got a heckuva lotta work here, and you ain't leavin' me with all of it!"

"Ha ha! I wouldn't dare!" Prompto laughed.

She took a step back to stand next to Cid, who put his arm around Cindy's shoulder and gave Noct a smiling two-fingered salute.

"Thank you, Cid, Cindy. We couldn't have done it without you."

"Yer old man would've bin proud of ya, son. Now, git," Cid said, waving with Cindy as Ignis pulled away.

Noct kept his eyes wide open, soaking in every detail of his last view of Hammerhead—Cindy's yellow tow truck; the tall, brightly-lit Hammerhead sign; and that spot just outside the garage door where they'd once posed with the Regalia the first time she'd gotten fixed. It was only once they'd passed the gate and pulled out onto the dark road that he leaned back, closed his eyes, and allowed that sparkling golden power to lull his exhausted body to sleep.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

I had the guys send Talcott to pick Noct up because seriously…what else was he doing driving from that direction? He wouldn't be headed from anywhere to Hammerhead on that road, and why would he be driving to Galdin if not to pick Noct up?

I had some trouble believing that the power grid had fallen again and all of humanity was crammed into Lestallum, and yet they had 4G LTE coverage countrywide. No cell phones for you.

Ignis's age and backstory is a clusterfuck…seriously. But he was _supposed_ to have been six when he met Prince Noctis, which means that scene in EpI makes Noct the largest four-year-old in the history of Eos. Seeing as how Noct is also shaking a copy of his own hand, I think they were being super lazy and just recycling the models they'd already created.


	100. Chapter 100

"You know you guys are free to use the Regalia as you like," Noct said as he picked his way through the dark, stumbling on swells of dead tufts of grass. Since his eyes weren't doing him much good glued to the black ground, he looked up beyond the shadow of Iggy's back and kept them locked on the dim blue glow of the haven runes looming above them.

"Yeah, but . . .," Prompto began, but trailed off.

"She's not doing any good decorating the garage."

Gladio swore softly as what sounded like the tip of his boot hit a rock. "It's a car without an owner," he said after several seconds of grumbling.

So, Iggy hadn't been the only one spending the last ten years accepting what was gonna happen, but Noct didn't like this reverence they were holding for everything he'd once touched. He didn't know if the Power of Eos would even leave his body behind when the time came, but the idea that they'd one day be bowing in front of one of those stone sarcophagi and offering up prayers or something to the car they'd once driven in just sounded wrong. He wanted those times to be remembered with joy, not reverence.

"So, give her a spin now and again. Take her by the garage like I told you to a long time ago," Noct said with a shrug. He stepped up onto the haven ramp, his eyes widening a little in surprise when the runes burned bright with the contact of his foot on the stone. It seemed they wouldn't be having to worry about keeping watch this evening. This power of his was good for something while he was still living in this body, after all.

But he also didn't want to think about why he had it.

"So, speaking of the garage, how _did_ things work out with you-know-who?" he asked to distract himself.

"Oh, ho ho!" Prompto laughed, slapping him on the back. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell!"

"Look at you," Noct chuckled gently, wondering at the non-answer. He'd never known Prompto to be evasive about girls. But Luna's serene smile brushed over the surface of his memory in that moment, and he felt that he needed to add, "Just remember: hold tight to the ones you love and don't let go. Loose your grip and you lose 'em for good."

"Don't gotta tell me," Prompto replied in a more subdued tone, and Noct wondered what story was lurking behind the weight in those words. There was no way he'd have the time to catch up on ten years with all of them this evening, and it wasn't like they were the kinda guys to start crying over everything they'd been through. How much had he missed out on that he'd never get to hear about?

The conversation halted when Iggy's head cleared the ground level of the haven and suddenly stopped dead in the middle of the ramp.

"Hey—" Noct complained, stepping to the side to avoid crashing into him, but Ignis didn't give any indication that he'd heard him.

"Laura," he whispered. "My word."

Noct took a few steps higher so he could see what had enraptured Iggy so completely and stopped at the sight.

He hadn't stepped foot on this haven since leaving the morning after they'd lost everything. He remembered packing up after that hot, bright sunrise, feeling hopelessly lost and counting on Cor to tell him what to do. Despite the jumbled haze that made up his human memories now, the image of that morning was crystal freaking clear in his head, and he sure as hell didn't remember _that_.

"And that's the legend of King's Rose," Prompto said reverently as he stepped up behind Noct. "Always figured Laura had something to do with it, but I always forgot to ask."

"Yeah," Laura answered. "It was me. The day Regis died. I guess with the cold weather, it thinks it's spring. Do you remember that night, Ignis?"

"How could I not?" he asked in awe.

It was the first living splash of color Noct had seen since waking up in Angelgard—a lone tree leaning high over the haven as though soaking in what little light it could get from the softly glowing stone floor. Thousands of white, ruffled blossoms the size of both Noct's fists reflected the gentle blue light, lending an almost ghostly appearance to the delicately shivering petals.

"The King's Rose is a kithairon?" Iggy asked, keeping his eyes locked on the tree as he approached. "How fitting." He stepped up to the lowest branch hanging heavy with blossoms at eye-level and grazed a gloved finger gently along the edges of the flowers. The tree fluttered at his touch, releasing a rainshower of snow-white petals to brush across the haven floor before they were carried away on the night breeze.

"Hmm," Ignis hummed to himself, a faint smile and a faraway look in his eye, but the tenderness was exchanged for a somewhat false brightness when he straightened and turned to Noct. "Well," he said, summoning one of his work tables and walking it to the other side of the haven—precisely where he'd set his kitchen up last time. "Did you have any requests for dinner this evening, Noct?"

Noct grimaced and stared down at his boots, torn between wanting Iggy to make him something special for his final dinner and wanting to prove that he appreciated everything Iggy had done for him. What _was_ the most convenient food for Specs to make?

"Majesty?"

Noct looked up to see Ignis fixing him with a knowing gaze, and he knew that no matter what he requested, they'd be having _something_ from the list of his favorites that Iggy kept in that steel trap of a brain.

"Um, you wouldn't happen to have any of that bluefin tuna we finally caught, would you?"

"You were hoping for sushi?"

"If it's not too much work. And maybe some of Laura's toast in the morning?"

"That shouldn't be an issue—not at all," he said jovially, summoning the camp stove to his hands and setting it on its stand. "Laura always keeps bread on hand, and I happened to have aged several tuna filets for just such an occasion."

Gladio had just summoned the tent to set up under the overhanging tree branches when he paused and looked up. "Ugh," he said with a curl of his lip.

Noct kept his eyes on the task at hand—summoning the camp chairs to set up around the fire that Prompto was working to build—but he couldn't help but ask, "Um . . . whaddya mean by 'aged,' Specs?"

Iggy waved a vague hand to Laura, which Noct guessed meant something in their silent language, because she began pulling out pots and rice and knives and gods only knew what else, but then he turned to Noct. "Something I learned on our travels. Fish for sushi is best flash frozen and aged for a week."

"So that whole 'fresh fish daily' thing was sh—garbage?" he asked, changing what he'd intended to say at Iggy's side-eye.

"Seas, no, child!" he said with a laugh, and for half a second, it almost sounded genuine. He and Laura exchanged a knowing smirk before he said, "I've experimented quite a lot with fish over the years, and it _is_ by far superior for developing flavor."

"No fair you got to use the whole armiger every time Laura visited," Prompto muttered, summoning extra wood for the fire. He let out a long, contented sigh. "I've missed the convenience."

"Who'd've thought? Ignis Scientia makes better fish than Standing Sushi."

"Oh yeah! He's even better than before, if you can believe it."

"Hmm," Iggy said with a secretive smile. "Perhaps I've developed a culinary sixth sense."

"Hey, Iggy," Gladio said, "you oughta follow Weskham's example, open up a restaurant."

"I've told you before, Gladio," Iggy said with a sniff, turning back to the camp stove. "Though I may find the opportunity to seek out a somewhat quieter life after this, I would prefer something slightly more challenging than restauranteur."

"Oh yeah? And what says 'Her Majesty'?"

Laura looked up from Iggy's spare table, where she had already pulled out a cutting board and was chopping celery and avocado for her vegetable rolls. "Oh, you know me. I'd follow him anywhere. It's bound to be an adventure no matter what."

Noct angled his chair so that he'd have a decent view of everyone before plopping down with a long sigh. Despite sleeping the entire way out here, he was already desperate to conk out again, but he fought the heavy fatigue that was beginning to make his head spin in favor of watching the others. They all moved around the haven as though they'd just done this yesterday. Gladio had summoned the bedrolls and was laying them out in their usual spots in the tent. Prompto had finished with the smaller sticks in the pile he was building and was moving on to setting the smaller logs in a pyramid shape around it. Iggy had set the rice to cook and was pulling out the fish, while Laura broke out Noct's least favorite part of sushi—the nori that Iggy collected and dried himself.

He wanted to remember all of it. When he marched into the throne room to finish this, he wanted to remember the way Gladio would mumble in that deep bass as he listed out everything he still had to do for the evening, the way Prompto would 'sing' what had once been their favorite song—by Lumberjack, or something, which had to be _so_ dated by now—or how Ignis and Laura would purposefully stand close enough so that they were nearly constantly brushing against one another as they cooked and carried on their secret conversations in silence.

"Oof, it's soooo cold. I swear it's been even colder than usual this last day. Almost like winter," Prompto complained, scooting his chair so that it was nearly touching the fire ring and leaning close over the young flames. "Aren't you freezin' your nuts off over there?"

"I'm all right," he chuckled.

"It's because Eos is nearly dead," Laura said, looking significantly at Noct. "She's not really acting as the sun anymore."

"So where'd it go?" Gladio asked.

"Well . . . to put it in simple terms, the ball of gas is still there, but it's waiting to be rekindled with that spark of life. You want to know where the sun went?" She nodded toward Noct, who looked down at his lap. "You'll be sleeping with him in the tent tonight. He's brought the power down here to eradicate the scourge, but then it needs to be returned before the whole planet dies."

"Whoa," Prompto breathed.

"Huh. Least you could do is keep us warm," Gladio said with a grin.

"Now now, Princess," Laura teased. "If you want, I can snuggle with you tonight."

"I think not," Iggy protested.

Noct kept his mouth shut and watched the four of them taunt and banter at one another. Conversation and kithairon petals swirled around him—effortlessly. They looked effortless together—all four of them. It brought forward that sense of isolation, and he found himself missing Luna.

"He's not usually like this, ya know," Prompto whispered, his gaze following where Noct had been watching Iggy and Laura work to assemble the nigiri, still nearly attached at the hip even as they teased Gladio. "That's practically cuddly for them still. But he's had a rough couple of days."

"Was it what put Laura down?" Noct asked quietly, inspecting them more closely. "What happened?"

"He lost his dad a coupla days ago. Starscourge. I think Laura was the one to . . . you know." He drew a line across his neck with a finger and grimaced. "We've been outta meds for a while, and let's just say things aren't pretty."

"His dad?" Noct whispered incredulously, trying his best to keep his voice down, but he bet Laura could still hear them.

"Yeah. Up until a coupla days ago, he was King of Tenebrae. Now . . . well, we don't know how Iggy's gonna handle things. Half the Lucians still want the monarchy, half want democracy, and all the Tenebraeans want Iggy. Things are kind of a mess right now."

"Talcott must've forgot to mention a few things. Sounds like it's been rough out here."

Prompto's gaze turned faraway as his attention drifted to the flames licking at the logs. "Yeah. We missed you, ya know? Every day. But I wouldn't change a thing. You guys all changed me for the better, and I can't thank you enough for being my best friend."

"Yeah." He let his own eyes drift off, past Gladio doing his nightly exercises, beyond the blooming King's Rose, and out to the distance, where he could just make out the flaming red column of a red giant's sword rising high into the air like a beacon in the night. He found he still couldn't make eye contact as he reached a hand out to settle heavily on Prompto's shoulder. Of course, it only took Prompto a second to reciprocate because he never seemed to have Noct's messed up sense of expressing himself.

Why couldn't he say it? Gods damn it. _Spit it out._

But no. Saying it was admitting a weakness, opening himself up to being made fun of, but it was more than that. Telling them all how he felt meant anchoring himself to this world of mortals he had already taken one step out of—it meant that he didn't _really_ want to go, even if a part of him was ready to sleep at long last.

"So," he said after a few more seconds staring at the fire in silence. He patted Prompto's shoulder a couple of times before settling his hand awkwardly in his lap. "You still taking photos like you used to?"

"Oh yeah! Try and stop me, bro!" As though to prove his point, he pulled his camera out and snapped a shot of Noct before he could even begin to muster a smile.

Gladio fell into his chair on the other side of Prompto with a groaning sigh. "Hold up. You're not the creepy dude followin' the Guardians around taking shots for Vyv, are you?"

"Dude, no way! Like I have time for that kinda stuff!"

"Not like you can use that same excuse for that one chocobo race. You must've had plenty of time, you sucked so bad," Gladio said, laughing so hard he couldn't get the words through the fingers over his mouth. "We thought you got lost!"

"Hey!" Prompto barked, leaping from his seat to fling an accusing finger at Noct, who chuckled in remembrance. "Noct put a stop spell on Sunny! It wasn't my fault!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Noct continued to chuckle, shaking his head.

But Prompto didn't respond to Noct's denial; he was too busy shoving at Gladio. "Yeah, just like it wasn't _your_ fault when Cor knocked you on your ass in front of a room of new Guardian nuggets."

"Can't blame me for that. I was blindfolded. And it's not like 'His Majesty' hasn't had his share of bad moments."

"Hey! Leave me outta this."

"You got any ones I haven't heard?" Prompto asked Gladio.

"No, he doesn't," Noct answered.

"Probably not. Iggy's been sittin' on all the best ones."

"Come onnn, Igs," Prompto pleaded, looking toward Iggy and Laura. "Pleeease?"

Iggy and Laura both stepped up to the fire and began passing out plates of Iggy's 'famous' Scientia-style sushi before taking their seats on Noct's other side.

"Well," Iggy said, crossing his legs and preparing his chopsticks.

"No."

"There _was_ the time, I believe it was a couple of weeks after I'd received my first pair of glasses," Ignis began, and Noct closed his eyes, because _no one_ had more ammo on him than Iggy, and this wasn't gonna be pretty. "He had gotten it into his head that he simply _must_ have a pair of his own."

"You're exaggerating." He stared down at his plate, picked up one of the tuna nigiri, and stuffed it in his mouth to cover his heated face. The sushi was great, as it always had been, but since he didn't really remember the specifics of Iggy's sushi before, he couldn't really tell much of a difference with the aged fish.

"For _months_ , he begged the King for a pair of his own. I fear he had driven the entire staff to the brink of a revolution," Iggy chuckled with a gesture of his chopsticks.

"This has all been blown way outta proportion," Noct mumbled over the laughter of the other three. "I swear, it was kinda hard to see long distances sometimes."

"Wait, so what finally ended it?" Laura asked.

"His Majesty finally bought him a set of frames with clear glass," Iggy said, turning to him. "If I recall correctly, you wouldn't take them off for nearly six months."

"That must've been before I was assigned," Gladio said.

"Yes, I believe he had just turned five."

"Hasn't changed much, has he? We're still all on the brink!"

It took a while this time for the knee slapping and laughter to die down, but it stayed silent once it had—the endless night interrupted by the screeching laughter of a daemon in the distance or the hopeful scratching of another on the edges of the haven's protection. The comment reminded Noct of how they hadn't revolted when they easily could've after the Fall—how they'd stuck by his side even when he hadn't been around the last ten years, and how they were willing to gamble their futures to accompany him into the hellhole they were headed for tomorrow.

Even after all the time he'd had to 'reflect,' he still didn't know what he did to deserve such good friends, and probably never would.

"Oooh, hey Laura," Prompto said suddenly. "Think we can make more of those s'more things?"

"Sushi and s'mores?" Iggy asked, sounding a little offended by the suggestion.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Sounds just disgusting enough to work," Laura replied with a shrug. "Noct?"

"Yeah, count me in." He flashed her a grin as he summoned one of the toasting forks and held it out to her. She placed one of the sweet, white poofs on the end, and he swung it over so that it hovered several inches above the flames that Prompto had just added wood to.

"Wait, no way," Gladio protested as Laura placed a marshmallow on everyone else's fork. "Remember last time? She made us _sing_."

"It was Ignis I was the most disappointed in," Laura said. "All that planning for a road trip, and he didn't research a single campfire song."

"I . . . thought it best to leave the task to Prompto or Gladio."

"And I got one this time! Listen to this!" Prompto said. Leaning forward he sang in a soft voice, Noct guessed so he wouldn't attract the daemons, but his volume made the tone no less obnoxious. "Girls are made of greasy, grimy bulette guts; mutilated anak meat; petrified uttu pus; lots and lots of ooey gooey naga puke, and I forgot my spoon!"

After several seconds of silence, Noct couldn't help but snort as Iggy said, "Charming."

"Yeah," Gladio agreed. "Dunno 'bout you, but I'm not hungry now." In spite of his statement, he still followed Noct's lead, pulling his fork back to sandwich the toasted marshmallow between a bar of chocolate and two graham crackers Laura had handed him.

"Well wha 'bout Waura?" Prompto asked, nearly-melted chocolate coating his lips as he tried to speak with his mouth full of s'more goo. "Never did hear _her_ actually sing any besides that freaky one in Pitioss."

"Yeah, you gotta sing one in Lucian, too. Phlorborak or whatever doesn't count," Noct added before biting into the warm, melted s'more.

Laura had been right—Lucian camping had nothing on Earth traditions.

Laura cast a quick glance at Ignis before looking down in her lap. "Um . . . didn't do a lot, or any, camping as a kid, but . . .." She took a deep breath and sang, "Black socks, they never get dirty; the longer you wear them, the blacker they get. Someday, I'll probably launder them. Something keeps telling me don't do it yet!"

"Ah," Ignis said gleefully. "You've discovered His Majesty's anthem."

"Hey, I washed my socks!"

"If I'm not mistaken, I've yet to see you wash anything," Ignis retorted, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Noct stood from his seat and glared down at him. "Oh yeah? Watch this."

Despite Iggy's stuttering protests, Noct insisted on collecting everyone's plates and doing the dishes, ordering him to stay in his seat, but he was surprised to see how quickly Iggy relented and obeyed. He was beginning to get the impression that Ignis had secretly wanted the help all these years and was just being polite by declining. After all, it wasn't like Iggy had never asked him to be up at the butt crack of dawn to help him make breakfast and have the opportunity to pry into Noct's psyche before.

He also had a feeling everyone was giving each other some time to spend alone with him, since everyone was suspiciously huddled on the other side of the campfire when Gladio stepped up to the bucket he was using as a sink and offered to dry.

"Can't believe it; look at you—a King," Gladio muttered huskily as he dipped a cutting board in the fresh water before drying it with a hand towel.

"Doin' the dishes," Noct chuckled.

"Learned some lessons of my own while you were gone, and while I'm glad I kicked your ass as much as I did, let's just say . . . I might get it more now." Gladio's hand froze in the bucket, one of their plates gripped in his hand. "You've uh . . . come a long way, and I want you to know . . . I'm uh . . . real proud of ya."

Oh gods, he didn't have the strength to keep doing this. _Say_ it.

"Thanks. You, too—for taking over."

His voice cracked a little as he stared down at the bucket of clean water. "This world you and Luna worked to protect? We'll be watching over it now. Just leave everything to us from here."

"I know there's a lot of work to be done, but I want you guys to be happy, too. If the people want democracy, don't cling to the kingdom just for my sake," he muttered down at his own work.

"We'll see," he grunted.

They'd cleaned up and joined the others in their camp chairs, and just like those few minutes after they'd eaten, that heavy silence fell over them all again.

"The five of us around a campfire," Noct said as he stared into the dancing flames, his tone steeped in nostalgia and significance. He met the four faces watching him wistfully, their expressions bathed sepia-toned in the flickering firelight. "How long's it been?"

"Hmm . . .," Iggy half-mused, half-laughed, "an eternity."

"You know," Prompto said, leaning back into his chair, "when we left home? It was like . . . we'd aced the tutorial, but we were still level one. Now look at us."

"Oh yeah?" Laura asked. "And what level are you now?"

"I dunno," Prompto shrugged. "I mean, you're like . . . level five billion, but us?"

"Level ninety-nine?" Noct suggested.

"No way! I was thinkin' . . . one-twenty."

"Yeah? And why're we one-twenty?" Gladio asked.

"I was thinking . . .." He narrowed his eyes and squinted up at the black sky. "It gives us somewhere to go beyond that. Gives us a future."

"That sounds good to me," Noct said with a fond smile.

The scent of burning wood wafted up his nostrils, unlocking more memories—all those syrupy warm nights spent with his body buzzing from exhaustion and staring up at the stars after a long day out hunting on the plains. It was true what Laura had said to him that night in Longwythe . . . they would all die for him without him even having to ask. Hell, all four of them could die tomorrow right alongside him if he wasn't careful.

Tonight—right now—was his last chance. Once they got up from these chairs, it would be all business. Sleep. Breakfast. Traveling into the city. Meeting his destiny.

It was now or never.

"So, yeah. I, um . . .." He leaned forward in his chair, staring down at the hands that no longer looked familiar to him. Clenching and unclenching his fingers, he hissed, "Damn it. The hell is this so hard?"

Several seconds of popping wood and giggling daemons passed. He let the frigid summer wind blow through the haven without a word, watching Laura's tree petals fall like snow before skipping and tumbling across the glowing runes.

"Out with it," Gladio grunted.

He knew exactly what he wanted to say, what he _needed_ to say; the words had been echoing in his thoughts ever since he'd arrived at Hammerhead. But as he pointedly refused to meet the grief-filled gazes of the three men and one woman who'd given him everything on this journey, he found he couldn't get the words out—until he met Laura's shimmering eyes and remembered more of the words she'd given him that night in Longwythe, the night he'd first realized the extent of his calling.

 _They've given up their one and only lives to be with you, and that's a sacrifice that you should hold most precious to your heart. Tell them while you can, in case it's ever too late._

"I've made my peace," he said shakily, willing some semblance of strength into his voice as he sat up and looked them each in the eye one by one. "Still . . . knowing this is it, and seeing you here, now . . ." But oh gods, he couldn't hold it in anymore, watching their faces all looking back at him, tightening and drooping and leaning back as their eyes filled with tears. His own voice began to crack as the pressure behind his eyes built, and he managed to choke out, ". . . it's . . . more than I can take."

Stifled gasps and shuddering breaths met his ears over the sound of the popping fire, but he'd wrenched his eyes away to the haven floor. Really, he _still_ hadn't said it, but it felt as though the words had been wrung from him, and he allowed them to seep over the rim of his eyelids to burn a meandering path down his cheeks, dripping to his lap as he leaned forward.

"Yeah. You're damn right it is," Prompto said in trembling gasps.

"Huh. You spit it out," Gladio muttered.

"About time," Laura said.

Noct continued to stare at the space between his shoes, waiting. When Iggy didn't respond, he chanced a glance to see him also leaning forward, wet tracks lining his cheeks. The shape of Ignis's name was on his lips before he finally managed to say in a low, husky murmur, "It's good to hear."

Another few moments passed as Noct stared down at his shoes, but seriously. Was he the King, or wasn't he?

He jumped to his feet, and as the four of them looked up at him expectantly with tears still swimming in their eyes, he met each pair, doing his best to remember each shade, each nuance of every expression, each slice of the souls he loved most in this world. This? This would be the moment he took to the grave.

"Well . . . what can I say?"

Prompto lost his battle with his composure, leaning forward to swipe furiously at his tears, and even Iggy and Gladio looked down at their shoes. Only Laura still managed to meet his gaze, but the tears streaking down her cheeks and falling onto her neck weren't doing much to help him keep his voice level.

"I—"

Another deep, cleansing breath, and he found he was able to smile through the pain of finally, _finally_ spitting out exactly what was on his mind. "I love you guys."

* * *

"Ow!" Prompto complained, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Gladio said.

Laura dismissed her falchions and grimaced. "Sorry, guys. I never did get the chance to make adjustments to that necklace."

"Should've brought Delilah with us! At least she can heal without smashing anything into the back of your head." Prompto said.

Noct turned toward the twinkling columns of the Citadel, looming closer than they had all afternoon. "But at least you're all safe," he said softly. He tried not to nurse that irritating doubt buzzing at the back of his head that his dad would never have let things get to this point, but it drew closer to his surface thoughts, appearing almost in words across his eyes as he looked up at his home. "Come on."

Noct had been born a future monarch to a country that was always going to be at war; it was just a fact of life. But even though he'd read the incoming reports when Iggy guilt tripped him into doing it, he'd never really taken the time to picture the destruction. Three-hundred dead. Hundreds of millions of crowns worth of damage. Black ink on clean, white paper laying out the facts of a war that would never come to him.

"Wow—it's one hell of a battle they waged here," he said mildly, trying to shove aside that ache in his heart.

Streets where he and Prompto used to walk home from school were nearly blocked with crumbling buildings. Shops and restaurants and roads once packed with so many people and cars that he used to have trouble hearing himself think were now deserted and silent—until a pack of daemons would drop from the sky or grow up out of the pulverized pavement.

But he'd mourned the loss of his once indestructible home at the same time his dad had died. All he could do now was to take it back and keep everyone alive.

"Yes, we've determined this district to be the outermost ring of the original invasion," Iggy said, "though we're fortunate not to be approaching from the west. The evidence of devastation is far worse there."

Laura craned her neck to inspect the edifice of an apartment building, riddled with bullet holes and laser burns along the lowest two floors. "We may be able to salvage the buildings without structural damage, but I bet a lot of these will have foundation and rot issues."

"Ten years of neglect will do that to a city," Gladio said, holding a fist up to signal them to halt before leaning around the corner to check for daemons. He gave them the all clear, and they passed into the intersection, where the landscaping in the medians had overgrown to take over the square before withering from the frost and lack of sunlight. "But Lestallum's packed to the gills now—ever since Ig moved most of the civilians outta the outposts and into the city."

"Many would return, given the chance," Ignis said.

"Then let's bring 'em home. It's going to be hard, building it back up again. You guys are gonna have your work cut out for you," Noct said.

"Hey!" Prompto protested. "Don't count yourself out so quick!"

Noct stopped in the middle of the intersection, staring at Prompto's bright blonde hair ruffling in the cold gusts of wind and that secret despair hiding in the depths of his tired expression. They hadn't explicitly said it out loud since he'd gotten back, but he thought they'd been clear about where this was headed.

"You know it's just gonna be you guys, right?" Noct asked, even though he hated to see those tears welling up in his friend's eyes _again_.

"But we'd rather not remember," Ignis cut in, stepping in front of Prompto. Noct was trying to come up with something that wouldn't sound too harsh to tease him about being the one escaping reality for once, but Iggy's head shot up to the dark patch of street ahead that lead to the Citadel's front gate. He exchanged a glance with Laura, who nodded silently.

At the well-worn signal, Noct summoned his engine blade to his hand and crept forward, hoping they could just sneak around the daemons or MTs he was about to eradicate from the world anyway. It was kinda funny how easy it used to be for Iggy to drive him to the Citadel all those days he'd wanted nothing to do with the place, and now there was nowhere left in this world for him to be but the throne, and they'd spent all morning and half the afternoon battling their way there. Though that indefinable feeling of family still glowed in his failing heart, Noct _had_ noticed one change with each altercation—the synergy. They'd claimed they hadn't fought together much in this past ten years, but Noct could see it in the way they all moved together as one deadly unit. They only seemed to pause or stutter when they made an effort to fit him in with their link strikes. He'd become a brand-new button on a worn and comfortable coat—still matching the others, but standing out against those that truly belonged there.

A shot rang out from up ahead, and Noct swore he felt the zip of the bullet past his ear.

"They're using the debris as cover," Iggy shouted over the explosions of gunfire that followed as they threw themselves to the nearest pile of rubble. "Laura and I will warp around and draw their fire from behind."

"Do it," Noct nodded, closing his eyes. As much as he wished he could watch Ignis disappear in blue like a real Glaive, the fever dancing in his veins was now making him shiver constantly every time they stopped, and his fragile body had grown weary from all their pointless battling today. It'd been his fault Iggy couldn't warp when they were younger; he'd never been as strong as his dad in magic and could barely keep Crystal servants at all. Seeing him overcome that last obstacle to reach his full potential—just as Gladio had found leadership and Prompto had found a niche where he was invaluable—they really had grown up.

The squad of what the group had dubbed 'eternal troopers' were almost effortless to take out once Iggy and Laura had drawn half of them around the corner of a café. Noct heaved his aching body off the pavement and flipped and quipped his way through these twitchy, rusted-out models along with the rest of them.

"Careful, Noct!" Iggy called out as he tossed a spinning dagger to catch the tip of a trooper's gun and wrench it to the side.

Some things hadn't changed. Iggy was still, as always, watching his back.

"Thanks, Ig," he said sincerely, patting his shoulder before beckoning Gladio to go in on a link strike together.

With a light hop to Gladio's greatsword, Noct had Gladio toss him over a planter of shriveled bushes to land on the balls of his feet. Noct swiped the blade across the MT's legs, knocking them out from underneath the robotic soldier and sending it crashing to the sidewalk in a heap of limbs.

"Prompto!" he called out, curling his back to provide support for Prompto's move.

A heavy boot landed between Noct's shoulder blades, followed by several sharp shots as Prompto yelled, "Yeah, eat this!"

As Prompto hopped off and landed lightly on the curb, Noct glanced around the combat area to check for any additional threats.

"Y'know, you don't seem as jumpy as before," Noct said as he waved Gladio over.

A chuckle escaped Prompto's closed lips before he parted them and let out a sigh. "Maybe I'm just better at hiding it?"

"Maybe."

Judging by the grunts and clangs of metal against metal around the corner, Laura and Iggy were still engaged in battle. With a jerk of Noct's head in the direction of the noise, Noct, Prompto, and Gladio rushed around the pile of broken concrete and twisted support beams and bolted to Laura's and Iggy's aid. Noct caught sight of them right at the end of Laura's dance as she twirled from the death of one MT and pushed a shield from her hand to shove another about to take a stab at Iggy's back.

Specs was a flurry of motion, summoning spear after spear and hurling it with a savage grunt toward their last trooper, waiting until they'd pierced the rusted and corrupted armor, then dismissing them. Taking several hopping steps forward, he tossed a final polearm into an MT's twitching helm before it crashed to the ground, its greaves, helmet, and gauntlets flying off and rolling along the asphalt with a warbling clatter.

Laura snorted a little as he straightened, raised his chin high in the air, and adjusted his collar meticulously with a huff of a breath.

"What?" Ignis asked defensively. Though Noct couldn't see his eyes well under the shaded visor he'd put on this morning, his mouth was very clearly turned down into a frown.

"You're incredible," Laura replied warmly, stepping to his side and brushing the dust off his coat.

"And you guys are still gross," Noct laughed. "But . . . that was pretty badass, Specs."

Iggy pulled his shoulders back, his lips twitching a little before he spoke in a wistful tone, "If only there were time . . . I could show you how far I've come. And the others, with their experience gained outside the battlefield, they haven't even begun to . . .." He pulled himself straighter into full attention as he said, "While my powers may be called into service at your disposal, they aren't intended to eclipse your own importance in history, Majesty."

"Doesn't really come down to power, anyway," Noct said with a shrug. "You guys were the ones who kept me grounded when I got mine."

As he drew closer, the tip of his shoe caught on an MT's greave, sending it clattering across the asphalt and echoing along the high buildings down the street. They'd definitely have to move after making all this noise, but a flash of red revealed by his mistake made him pause.

"These aren't MTs. What are they?" he asked, leaning in closer to inspect the glowing red bones now fading with the soldier's 'death.' MTs were robotic . . . they'd never had _bones_ before.

"Most of the human Nif soldiers disappeared by the time we got to Gralea," Gladio answered in a haunted tone. "Turns out Ardyn got to 'em—looks like they've been patrolling Insomnia for a long time now."

"There were reports of MTs disguised as soldiers during the first evacuations of the city, but Laura and I didn't encounter any during subsequent trips," Iggy said.

"Yeah, but they're startin' to crawl outta their hidey-holes since Ardyn showed up. Cor says they've established three bases around Insomnia," Gladio said, toeing at the daemonized soldier's helm. He turned to face Noct with a hardened scowl. "Think we should give him a hand with the extermination?"

Noct shook his head and turned on the spot, taking several steps on his final walk home. "No point—they're all gonna be gone with the dawn tomorrow. Soil and sky—every speck of Starscourge will be gone tomorrow."

"It's too bad. You shoulda seen the base they set up in the Underground station," Prompto sighed from behind him. "Cor really pulled together a great team of Guardians."

"Not all great," Gladio snorted. "Laura had to stop one of the Nif soldiers from lugging in one of those damn weapons vending machines like in Gralea.

"Not sure what Henry was hoping to gain by that," Laura added. "No one's been using gil for a while now. They all would've just sat there."

Gladio stepped up to Noct's side, tilting his head as he gazed up at the Citadel towers. "The Guardians might've appreciated a word from their king."

"They'll appreciate the dawn more," Noct said, letting the finality of his decision leak into his tone.

He might've finally been ready to take on his role as the Chosen King, but that didn't mean his personality had suddenly changed. He would serve the people, but he wasn't a king any more than he had been ten years ago. He just hadn't been raised for making speeches and doling out judgment from a lofty throne. And how many would they save if he didn't delay now? Guiltily, he let his eyes slide to Iggy, who also had his eyes locked on the Citadel gate growing larger and larger as they drew closer. If Noct had just woken up a couple of days sooner, he could've maybe been in time to save . . . but there was no point dwelling on a past they couldn't change.

They were so close now to that throne where he would receive the last of the power he needed to end this. He could feel it tugging at his heart, calling him home. The five of them passed by the fountains just outside the Citadel gates, now still and black and reeking with fetid water. A giant black shadow of a crashed and decaying Magitek engine rose from the surface to rest on the half-destroyed bridge, forcing them to take a wide arc around to prevent collapsing the bridge, which he bet could happen from something as gentle as their footfalls on the concrete.

It was weird to think he wouldn't have to worry about getting out of here.

"Only a little bit further," Gladio said, choking up a little as Noct placed a hand on the iron bars of the gate blocking their path. "I think my heart might be slowing my legs down."

His heart wasn't just slowing his legs down. Noct had noticed all of them except Laura trying to pull him off to solve pointless errands that would be eradicated with the dawn anyway.

"Fight through it," Noct instructed, but his own knees were starting to quiver at the thought of Gladio, of all people, faltering. It felt strange to be the one to tell him to suck it up, for a change. "Can't make it without you."

"Ah, yes sir," he stammered before adding, "Your Majesty."

Noct shoved him as they passed through the gate and up the long driveway they'd left so long ago to start this journey. "Shut up," he retorted. "I get Specs is gonna use my title now and then, but it sounds weird comin' from the rest of you."

"I feel privileged," Iggy said dryly.

It was Laura's turn to shove Ignis's arm as she shot back, "It took a couple of days and me begging for you not to call me by mine. I don't think Noct's willing to do that."

"Oooh, yeah," Prompto giggled. "It'd be super weird with you guys married and him still doing that."

"Shh," Laura hissed, holding out a hand to stop them as they passed around the guard shack and got their first clear view of the entrance. She turned to Iggy, who nodded.

"Yes." Iggy looked over to Noct, nodding to the mass of what looked like tree roots up ahead, whispering, "Scourge and the Power of Eos. It must be Ifrit . . . and possibly Ardyn himself. They clearly know we're coming, so we needn't bother with the covert approach."

As they drew closer, Noct could just make out the lone figure seated as though he'd long grown bored of waiting. The shining patches of scourge oozing along the length of the left side of the god's mostly-bared body twinkled in the lights shining up the Citadel walls, lending a dramatic air to what had once been Noct's boring, everyday front yard.

"Is it just me," Prompto began softly, "or does he kinda look like . . . well, Iggy?"

Noct squinted into the dim light to get a better look. It was difficult to tell with the golden crown, the tangle of horns sprouting from his head, and the browless eyes glowing bright gold like lava from a volcano, but Noct thought he recognized something familiar about the shape of Ifrit's face, the freckles on his cheek and forehead.

Iggy nodded. "Yes, I noticed that as well. The resemblance is uncanny, to say the least."

"Might be why Genti-Shiva refused to make eye contact with you," Laura said. "You look just like her lover."

"And I understand that now. What I would _like_ is an explanation."

She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "Spatial-genetic multiplicity? I mean, you _are_ technically related through your father's connection to the Fleurets and their connection to Eos. Plus, you share a history, don't you?"

"We can only hope that connection earns us mercy, and yet I have my doubts."

"I dunno how I feel about killing something with Iggy's face," Prompto said, looking up doubtfully at Ifrit.

"We gotta do what we gotta do," Gladio said.

"The resemblance is merely physical," Iggy said. "We must do our duty."

As they took a step onto the circular drive, a sashaying shadow flickering back and forth against the lights behind and to the side of Ifrit's throne stopped on the landing of the steps leading to the front door, and Noct held out a hand to stop the others.

"It's him," he murmured softly. "Taken up residence in _my_ house."

Ardyn chose not to waste time with greetings and games, for once. He spread his arms out wide like he was presenting them with the grand prize on a game show.

"Ifrit, the Infernian. He doesn't share the Glacian's fondness for mankind so much these days," Ardyn called out smugly, spreading his hands wider in another dramatic gesture. Almost as an afterthought, he raised his chin with a self-satisfied smirk and added, "I'll allow you a moment with him, but after that, you can be sure to expect a . . . _warm_ welcome."

"Seriously?" Laura muttered under her breath. "Two thousand years of learning and ten years to plan this, and he comes up with _warm welcome_?"

Ardyn either hadn't heard or chose not to respond to her snark and instead raised a hand in a mocking salute. "I shall await you . . . above," he said with a parting smile before turning to head back up the stairs.

"Kinda makes you think he probably wasn't much all those years ago," Prompto said doubtfully.

"Yeah," Gladio agreed. "He's kinda all show."

Ignis opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut abruptly as a wall of flames erupted around the twisted throne sitting in the middle of Noct's courtyard. A wave of blistering heat rushed over them as the flames gradually subsided, and as they drew closer, the five of them could see him more clearly now that he was lit up by the fire—his legs spread wide and a hand propping up his cheek as he lounged apathetically on the mass of knotted rock and bone.

"This Messenger body's a bit bigger than Shiva's," Gladio muttered, summoning his sword and a shield.

"Just be glad it's not as big as the one in Ravatogh," Prompto laughed nervously. "We'd totally be screwed right now."

Ignis summoned the daggers that Laura had made for him and glared over at Prompto and Gladio. "Enough," he barked. "Kindly keep in mind that this isn't a mere trial. He'll be out for our lives. Now—I believe it should go without saying that ice elements would work best here, though no one weapon has an advantage over the other. Aim for the healthy side."

"Why's that?" Noct asked.

Iggy frowned, his mouth shrugging doubtfully. "A guess. He's here against his will, after all, and not completely transformed, at that. It may be the side that puts up the least amount of fight," he said, nodding toward the half of Ifrit's body that wasn't covered in a swirling pattern of black, oily scourge. "So . . . once more unto the breach, Noct?"

Noct smiled to himself as his four best friends in the world waited for his signal. At his nod, they turned as one to fearlessly meet the god of fire that looked far too much like his best friend.

"Wait," Prompto called out over the sound of their pounding feet as they drew closer. "What's he doing?"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned this, but kithairon trees are basically peonies that grow on trees instead of bushes. I imagine them to completely cover the tree in late spring/ early summer.

I can only surmise that marshmallows didn't exist in this universe. Why else would they not have made s'mores?

I went with the Japanese version of the game because seriously, "You guys are the best" and "I love you guys" have very different meanings. He needed to say it after all this time.

I decided not to go with Royal Edition. For one thing, this story is long enough as it is. For another, I felt like most of what they made you do not only ruined the tone of the last chapters but were also pretty much pointless errands that didn't do anything to develop the story. In fact, had Noct headed straight to the Citadel, none of these problems would have existed any longer.

As with Noct, Gilgamesh, and Bahamut, Square Enix was a bit lazy and used Ignis's textures for his face. It's been added as a plot in this story.


	101. Chapter 101

Even to an immortal child of the Dawn _not_ chained beneath the Anathema's foul influence, time was a mysterious, unknowable force. He couldn't be certain for how long he'd lamented, bound by the grief of his failures and held captive by the disease gnawing at his flesh and mind, but as though washed away by the tides of Leviathan, the strangling ooze swiftly parted, freeing his senses to focus wholly on the scene at his feet for the first time since . . . he could not recall.

He could scent the Dawn there with him immediately—and she bore with her the morning star and a fair wind, a fresh start and hope at last.

Not even the stars could imagine his wonder when he recognized the aura of the raven-haired Messenger approaching him with her son Eosphoros and his own blessed Little Flame by her side. Ifrit still felt the forge of his Astral body burning on the faraway peak of Ravatogh deep in his instinct, like a phantom limb, and her golden fire tainted with scourge still smothering his corpse as they burned together. But he could not refute the evidence presented before his eyes and washing over his skin to immolate his corrupted soul.

Eos lived.

And yet the soul of the star had transferred to the Son. How had she managed to live on . . .? Yet it mattered not. He slid off his farce of a throne to his knees and touched his forehead to the ground, careful not to hit their fragile flesh with his spiraling horns.

"Wait," the Yellow One called out the moment Ifrit had gotten to his feet. "What's he doing?"

"Laura, what'd you do?" the Brown One yelled.

Ifrit ignored the Yellow One and the Brown One; they held no importance in the tides of life and time beyond their duty to the Son as Sword-Sworn. Instead, he kept his forehead pressed to the ground as he let in a gasp of contaminated air and breathed on a wailing exhale, **"eos."**

"Wait," she commanded the others, and even the King of Kings obeyed her directive as they halted their attack.

He could feel her magic steps away, the burn of her holy presence a reminder that he was corrupted, cast from paradise and forever doomed to be unsuitable to his mother's divine presence. But she had come for him, her ever-loyal vassal. She had come to save him from his torment at long last—if she could forgive him for failing her when she had needed him most.

" **iʃ fɛild juɹ ðænd ʔʌmbli sik æbsoθɹɛʊluʃən."**

"Ithīr," she whispered, and though he did not recognize the name she had bestowed upon his brow, he wore it as an emblem of pride and raised his eyes so they were level with hers, his chin still planted on the flagstones.

" **ɬɔɹɛliɹ,"** he bleated helplessly, unashamed to display to his mother his weakness as tears burned scorching rivulets down his cheeks. **"iʃ oʊɑ læθɑ mʌtʃ wɛθɹɛn. iʃ lix ʌv θɔnɑ, pli dʒʌst pɑɹɑ lin. doʊlɛθ ðɪs to˞ lix mɛnʔ."**

"What's he saying?" the Brown One asked.

"Oh, Ithīr," she breathed, stepping forward to place a tentative hand to his cheek. He had to clench his teeth to keep from screaming at the fire her touch brought, but he closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of her love as he had not for centuries. "Alluva men."

He wondered at her choice to speak in a tongue that neither man nor god could comprehend, yet she had always perceived the whispers of the stars beyond the ken of any of them. He tried to quell his consternation at the pain of her blessing and the inadequacy of his inferior intellect, for who was he to question the will of the almighty Golden Mother? But she read him as efficiently as she had since the day she had breathed life into him and stepped back, allowing the pain from the afterimage of her touch to fade before answering in his tongue, "wiðip wɪl. ɸu hæveʃə ɑɹɑɬɛθə i wɚd."

"He's begging us to kill him," the Son of the Dawn said.

"Does he have another Messenger body?" his Little Flame asked.

His Little Flame. How appropriate that his most beloved servant should be here to help guide his soul to the Great Beyond. The serene babe had grown in the blink of an eye since Ifrit's spirit had escaped Bahamut's prison long enough to complete his end of the powerful pact he had made with the House of Fire and Knowledge, sealed by Eos herself. The spark of potential in the depths of the child's eyes had spoken to Ifrit's instinct as it hadn't since the founding of the line. Many sought knowledge, but nearly all lacked the relentless drive to toil and suffer in its discovery as Ignis Scientia had, so Ifrit had bestowed upon the boy's brow the name he'd once gifted to a man with that same unquenchable fire. He supplemented that drive with his own divine spark and whispered his blessing in the babe's ear—along with a plea to gain the strength that he might free him from Bahamut's prison.

Though Ifrit's fate had plummeted even further into the depths of hell since that day, his Little Flame had indeed returned—with the Golden Mother in tow. And judging by the matching spark of gold that lay within the Little Flame's mind, now abhorrent to Ifrit's dark and twisted existence, the Goddess of the Dawn had found favor with him and marked him her Cephalus.

Ifrit had felt that Eos had spread herself too thin when she offered her powers up to any ephemeral who would seek out her mysteries. The little savages had potential to become so much more than what they were, yet they only needed one to guide them—a leader. Ifrit had sought such a man far and wide, believing his task to be a hopeless endeavor, when he encountered the first man to discover the gift Eos had left to her creation. The human's heart abounded with ambition without avarice, gentleness without weakness. Ifrit sought Eos for her counsel, and she had seen that his line would be favored beyond all. So he had alighted and gifted the quietly burning flame with the knowledge of fire, the potential for civilization. He had sworn on the magic of his blood that he would name the firstborn of the line in the name of Fire and Knowledge to reaffirm his vow and reseal the pact between man and god.

His choice to name the more tenacious eldest child had only betrayed him once, at the cost of everything.

Ifrit shook his head to answer his Little Flame's query. Nearly all of their host of twenty-seven had been lost in the Great War—Typhon, Samael, Pandemona, Nadir, Abaddon, Slyph, Barnabas, Golem, Hcoma, Syldra . . . his own beloved Phoenix and Lalahon. The only Messengers that remained in their pure state after the destruction were incapable of hosting their Astral: Umbra, Pryna, and Carbuncle. The rest of those surviving hosted the soul of those whose Astral bodies were lost in the war—Shiva in Gentiana, Ifrit in Aczinor, Valefor in Rudra.

Yet Aczinor's body had been defiled since it had been released from Bahamut's prison—twisted with scourge to reveal his Astral soul bound within and forcing it to grow and swell in an attempt to escape the rot. And yet the blight had merely grown along with him, but he could not tell his body what his mind knew. His heart, soul, and magic had been bound—for how long he could not tell, but he was impotent against his captor's serpentine grip.

"Are you capable of handling it as you did with Venetus?" the Little Flame asked his mate.

The Golden Mother's eyes widened before she turned to meet Ifrit's. As her aura reached out to him, he scrambled back on his hands and knees to protect his mother from her own foolishness. Surely she did not mean to touch his mind in this state! He would _not_ allow her to defile herself for his sake.

The contact spanned an infinitesimal moment—merely a soft greeting—as a ray of light shone through the clouds of his consciousness to brush against him ever so gently, and his already molten mind burned at the touch. He jerked back on his knees and up onto his throne—away from the searing light before she sensed his reticence and retreated.

"Whoa!" the Yellow One shouted, pulling Eosphoros several steps back by the sleeve.

"ɑeɬuvə nin, aθæluæt Ifrit," she pleaded before retreating with the Little Flame to speak to Eosphoros. "He's too far gone for me to touch. Like Ravus, he's half transformed, but his mind is peeking through the scourge like rays of sun in a storm."

Her mistake had been but a buzzing fly compared to the catastrophic failure he had dealt her in her hour of need all those eons ago; he had offered up his pardon without a thought the instant the words had left her lips. And yet he found he couldn't put words to the final sentiment of his free will as the parted clouds that had allowed the sun to dapple golden light onto the surface of his mind grew black and closed once more.

And he screamed as he was dragged to the depths of his subconscious, chained beneath his decayed flesh and forced to watch as Aczinor's body betrayed his will, betrayed his mother.

His hand stretched out toward the five of them discussing how to save his doomed soul and released a flood of his divine fire. His cry of warning went unheard as the wall slammed into Eosphoros's side, slamming him to the pavement with a cape full of bright orange flames.

"Noct!" his Little Flame bellowed.

"Noct! Hang in there, buddy!" the Yellow One called out, rushing to Eosphoros's side to beat the flames from his raiment as the child rolled and choked over the pavement. "Stay down. We'll keep him busy."

The Yellow One rushed forward to point his hand-canon in his direction and hurl several small cannonballs at his bare knees, but he could still hear his Little Flame beckoning to Eosphoros from behind the concrete pillar.

"Noct, over here!" Eosphoros stumbled to his feet, squinting in the hazy mirage. "Quickly, before he strikes again!" his Little Flame urged.

Eosphoros obeyed, choking on the hot, thick air as he staggered toward the concrete barrier and his clustered comrades stood to assist him. The Brown one shoved Eosphoros forward and held his shoulder braced as he stumbled to safety, and the Yellow One had just enough time to roll behind the barrier. Ifrit watched from beneath his prison of flesh, powerless to halt this betrayal orchestrated by the Anathema. He caught a glimpse of the five of them huddled around one another, their arms draped over each other's backs to offer some meagre shelter from the attack they knew would come.

Brotherhood.

Once upon a time, Ifrit knew what it was to be a brother, to love his brothers and sisters . . . his precious wife.

"Here it comes!" the Yellow One shouted.

That vision of Ifrit's family was consumed in a wave of molten flame right along with the scene of the family huddled in front of his eyes. The little unit had no hope of escaping his blast of power unscathed, and yet he could hear his Little Flame calling out over the roar.

"No, I've got it!"

Agonizing time slipped through his consciousness like water over stones, uncountable, uncapturable, until the command to his limbs ordered him to cease the stream of power pouring from his hand. Ifrit's body complied, and he exhaled a smoldering breath as the air cleared to reveal his Little Flame, a hand raised high in the air, his fingertips brushing against the underside of a shimmering blue web.

"Thanks, Iggy," Eosphoros yelled over the roar. The Little Flame lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk-smile and shrugged.

As though in defiance of his impatience to see his own end, Ifrit's body began to mock the little group now that the rage of his inferno had subsided—letting loose with a long, loud snore.

"Fuckin' asshole," the Brown One muttered as the five emerged from the barrier and rushed forward.

"We got your back, Noct!" the Yellow One called out as he leapt to his feet and covered their emergence in a volley of cannonballs that beat against his ribs like meteors landing in mud. Though he no longer possessed his own agency and was still attempting to claw his way to the surface to gain control, the pain of the impacts was still close and sharp, more real than any experience he'd lived and died through in ages.

His Little Flame held out a fist and cracked a potion over Eosphoros's shoulder, covering his fleeting little body in a cascade of green Eosian magic and healing his singed skin. "Here you go. Though one more hit, and I suppose the necklace would have handled it."

"No . . . thanks Specs."

At the tenderness in his voice, Ifrit recalled with a longing heartache his mother using the same tone when she held him to her breast and sang her dulcet melodies of healing. Would that he hadn't failed in rescuing her. She would have retained her Astral body and would never have allowed any of this to happen. But his daydreaming was suddenly broken off when Eosphoros continued with a shout, "Prompto, go ahead!"

The Yellow One took aim at Ifrit's chest with a cocky smile.

 _Yes, please,_ he wanted to plead to the yellow child, but his lips had been sealed by his master. _End this._

"All in bullet time, baby," the Yellow One murmured coldly before firing.

Control over his voice was cruelly released at the precise moment the metal buried itself into his chest just above his heart, and the state of his soul was loosed into this realm in the form of a long, raw roar. But Eosphoros did not hesitate at the sound of his agony. He hurled his sword toward Ifrit's bleeding chest before spinning away in a haze of blue. Ifrit felt muscle tear and bone shatter as the blade buried itself where the cannonball had just pierced him, and Eosphoros appeared to slam it deeper, ripping the wound wide.

"I'm sorry," Ifrit thought he could hear through the haze of his pain. The steel was ripped from his flesh with sharp yank to send a rush of warmth trickling down his body. "We'll end this as fast as we can." The child flipped off his throne and closed his eyes, calling forth the glaives of his ancestors just as Ifrit's brother so often did.

Ifrit was beginning to wonder why his master had bade him to remain so still—whom did he wish to punish more in this battle? But his body leaned forward at the thought, the weight of his bejeweled horns forcing his head to wobble as he reached out with a fire-filled hand and clipped Eosphoros's raiment with his outstretched fingers.

"Noct!" the Little Flame bellowed, shoving Eosphoros to the side.

The little babe Ifrit had once recognized as the best of humanity and bestowed his considerable blessing upon felt so breakable beneath his hand—ephemeral bones and flesh and nerve, easily quashed, easily burned and consumed. It mattered not how hot the love for his Little Flame burned in Ifrit's heart; all that was good had long deserted his tormented soul, and he wailed in protest as heat flared up through his fingers even as his Little Flame attempted to bury his stingers into his fleshy palm.

"Iggy! No!" Eosphoros summoned another blade and lifted it over his shoulder, preparing to warp-strike to his brother's rescue, but an unexpected rush of air to his left forced him to spin to face the perceived threat.

Eos.

"ðɑmɛi," she reassured Ifrit before turning to Eosphoros. "No," she commanded, placing a hand on his shoulder.

His beloved Little Flame didn't scream, didn't falter in his attack as the fire in Ifrit's hand licked its way up his tiny body.

"Iggy!" the Brown one screamed. He leapt toward Ifrit's wrist with his wall of steel raised behind his head, but Eos held him back.

"Concentrate on his organs!" she ordered. "Don't worry about Ignis."

Why was she so calm with her mate engulfed in a ball of white-hot flame?

The Brown one whirled wild-eyed with his blade still raised above his head to face her, and she pulled him close and glared up at him.

"Trust me, Gladio."

Several beats of an eternity passed before he replied, "All right Princess, I do."

Ifrit surrendered not to his heart's desire to think of his gentle brother Ramuh when the Brown One cast a single longing look toward the pyre that was now his comrade before resuming the charge alongside Eosphoros.

No. He would not give his slaver the satisfaction of knowing the extent of his grief.

Eosphoros raced forward to leap up onto the Brown One's sword, thrown in a spinning whirl toward Ifrit's torso. He leapt precariously on Ifrit's outstretched bicep just before the wall of steel slammed into Ifrit's ribs. Ifrit let out an agonized scream as Eosphoros's blade followed, the two streams of pain entwining around his chest and coalescing into a single flood of sensation. His snuffed-out Little Flame was flung aside with a flick of the wrist, as though he were no more than a piece of refuse, so that Ifrit's hands were free to grasp at the bloody hole where Eosphoros's sword had already disappeared.

Yet life still flickered within his Little Flame!

There was no mortal power on this Eos that could withstand the gift Ifrit's mother had bestowed upon him when she breathed her Power of Life upon his brow. And yet his Little Flame twisted away the moment he was free, following the path of the icy stinger he had launched to the cracked and burning asphalt. Hope flared in the small recess of his mind that if His Little Flame was immune to his powers, so, too, were the rest of his company. They could win this battle and end his torment.

"Oh my gods, Iggy!" the Yellow One screeched. "You're alive!"

His Little Flame took his place by Eos's side and imbued those powerful daggers in his hands with chilling frost once again. He saluted with a blade and said cockily, "All with a little help from my patron. Now, get back to work."

As one, they set about destroying Ifrit's body as he futilely attempted to keep his limbs held fast to his throne. Yellow, Brown, Flame, Eos, and Eosphoros tore and sliced at his flesh with burning ice and frost. Ifrit failed each time his hand reached out to clench the nearest savior between his fingers and burn them alive—and it was only as he'd squeezed the screaming Yellow One in his palm that he learned they weren't _all_ immune to his power. He had fought for control over his flesh more in the last minutes than he ever had, but his strength was waning, his faith growing weaker.

 _ **King of Kings.**_

Hope and hate burst into flame in equal measure at the thunderous vocalization that reverberated through his defiled mind. Bahamut—even his thoughts spat the word upon the magma at his feet to burn in the pits of hell for eternity. That _he_ could have been responsible for swaying the others to turn on their mother, then paint Ifrit the traitor! Ifrit had earned naught but suffering for his loyalty while the faithless Bahamut had brought them _all_ to this end.

 _ **Call forth the Draconian, that the Infernian may be granted peace,**_ Bahamut bellowed into the shared immortal mindspace.

 _ **Then come**_ , Eosphoros answered.

And to see him now, after all that had happened. Ifrit's eyes raised to the sky to track the very gold and ebony sword that had betrayed him and their mother to their deaths—cutting a path through the blighted sky and burying itself deep into the pavement with a thunderous crash and a billowing white cloud of pulverized concrete.

"A warning next time, Noct!" the Brown One bellowed from the other side of the still-quivering steel.

A rush of wind whipped past his ears, and Ifrit prayed to the mother still casting burning clouds of ice at his feet that the Anathema would bid his body to be still long enough for his brother to end it again.

 _ **Brother,**_ he pleaded to the sky, curious as to why his slaver should allow him contact. _**Help me.**_

Golden-bladed wings forged in the fires of Eos's breath slid into Ifrit's line of sight, spreading wider to catch the gale and hold him in the center of Valefor's furious whirlwind.

They had come. All of them. He could feel them all hovering on the edge of this realm.

 _ **You always were the most foolish of us all, Brother,**_ Bahamut answered.

The light from the spectral glow of Bahamut's Divine Armiger circling him in intricate patterns lit up the expression of hatred on Ifrit's face that, for once, was authentic. However long it had been since Ifrit had been allowed this much use of his faculties—all those relentless passing seconds enshrouded in the fog of mourning for the loss of his wife and mother in Pitioss—time had not touched his despised brother in the least. His dark, gilded armor still glistened in the light of his potent magic. The swords of his armiger still gleamed wickedly sharp.

Entreaties, absolution, and reuniting could be bought another day—when they were all dead and their souls bound to the Crystal for eternity. For now, Ifrit could only pray that his brother's aim was as true as it once was in the Great War.

 _ **Send my soul to the Great Beyond,**_ he commanded, _**where you might join me, that we may find fellowship as we once did.**_

 _ **By your plea.**_

The Draconian summoned another shimmering blade and drew it back to deliver the blow, but Ifrit could already feel his hand reaching for his own sword planted in the ground by his side. With a forceful thrust forward, Bahamut commanded his Swords of Light to fly on the air of Valefor and pin his body to the ground of Titan, but Ifrit's flesh was not yet prepared to submit to its inevitable demise, leaping from the mockery of a throne and flitting away. His master knew how to control his form better than even he, as sword after sword launched itself into the pavement around the King's courtyard, and his fleeting feet evaded each, running up onto the cold metal to sear the bottoms of his bare feet and flipping and spinning and dancing away.

"Whoa!" he heard the Yellow One breathe in between slams of steel and stone. "Parkour _master_!"

"Impressive," the Little Flame remarked, "but his dexterity only serves to make our task more difficult."

Ifrit had dodged the last of his brother's steel, and even as his arm raised his sword in triumphant victory, his spirit wailed in lament. If his warlord of a brother couldn't succeed in bringing him down, who would end his suffering? Bahamut drew close, and fiery amber and cold cobalt eyes met for the first time since the Great War.

Displaced air and time hit Ifrit's side in a wave, the roar of a warp, and a Weapon of Light pierced through the sinews of his shoulder and sank ever closer to his heart.

He'd forgotten the Chosen Eosphoros.

Eosphoros flipped back onto the asphalt as Ifrit fell to his knees, the breath stolen away from his lungs as his life force leaked from the rents in his skin. This was the end—finally—he could at long last find respite in the paradise his mother had prepared for them all, and she would be there waiting for him, her heart overflowing with admiration for his loyalty and pity for his suffering even as he flung himself to her feet to beg forgiveness for his failures.

And she would heal the rift between him and his wife and siblings.

But a sharp shock shuddered through his nerves, setting his body alight in a column of blistering flame. In his haste to leave this realm for eternity, he'd forgotten that his life force no longer comprised of something as good and innocent as blood. All that animated his body was the black curse painting his heart and skin.

Ifrit took a staggering step forward to drag a bare foot across the asphalt and plant it beneath his trembling frame. He pulled himself to his full height and surveyed the courtyard with his trusted hooked sword gripped in his hand by his side.

She was here; he could smell her in the frigid wind, taste her on the dancing currents. Just there, in the reflection of cold steel—he swore he had seen a flash of her lithe body. Hovering just on the edge of this world, he could feel her desire to push through to get to him. But who had she become in the eons they'd spent apart? Beloved wife or betrayer of trust?

 _ **Shiva, my treacherous love. Please. If our joining ever meant anything to you . . . end this.**_

That she had no words for him spoke volumes.

"So even that wasn't enough?" the Brown One said incredulously as Ifrit turned to face them.

"Out of the frying pan, dot, dot, dot?" the Yellow One joked, and for once, Ifrit's inner self was in accordance with his flesh as he leaned forward to run the child through with a flaming swipe. The Yellow one leapt back with a yelp before taking several shots at his chest.

Eosphoros pre-empted the Infernian's recovery with a warp-strike to his back, but as he landed, he called out, "We need to put this thing out. Iggy, ideas?"

"Ice is his weakest element," the Golden Mother informed him, slicing at Ifrit's legs with a falchion etched in frozen fractals as she and his Flame danced in circles around his feet. "Call his wife."

"You sure that's the wisest idea?"

"She hasn't been much use to us these last ten years, so she should be feeling up to a little work. Just do it."

 _ **The Frostbearer will do as the King of Kings commands**_ , the Glacian whispered—a flurrying eddy on the wind that made his skin prickle. Already, her presence was pulling vapor from the air, transforming it into swirling eddies of a glacial blast and making him shiver with her touch. She always had given him the chills at the merest glimpse.

Eosphoros answered, _**My friends are in danger. Take him out.**_

A knot of blood and scourge forced its way up his throat to splash at his feet even as his hand raised to send another ball of flame at the little mortals at his feet. This body was failing, thank Eos, and he was sure to fall to his wife's power that had always made him weak.

The time had come.

At the soothing murmur of that voice that used to whisper the chilling silence of winter into his ear and still his burning heart, he spun in a circle to catch a fuller glimpse of her. Capricious creature that she was, she remained hidden from his sight, but her icy wind caressed against his heated skin, freezing his sweat into a fine, sparkling layer of frost.

Ifrit focused on the red-eyed summoner to locate where she might appear, and the air seemed to grow still as his eyes fell on her and she strolled past, still wearing the black hair of her mourning. The question was—had she appeared in Gentiana's black to mourn the loss of her body or the loss of her lover?

 _ **Pyreburner**_ —

 _ **Do not call me that,**_ he snarled. Winter had always been frigid and cruel, but never so much as to draw attention to the indisputable fact that his Astral body was even now providing the everlasting flames for their mother's pyre. _**If you ever loved me, you would do me the dignity of piercing my heart with your true face bared for all to see.**_

She gave no indication that she had heard him, instead nodding in greeting to Eosphoros. But when her eyes flicked up to him . . . could those be tears crystalizing on her snow-white cheeks and catching in her lashes and hair? They sparkled like fresh snow in the lamplight, and he was overrun with the sudden longing for the days when he would reach out with a gentle fingertip to graze against her neck and thaw her frozen heart.

Those had been the days they had burned together.

 _ **That heart of flame was turned to ash once. A dead fire must burn no more.**_ His body kept his eyes locked on hers, still fighting to wrap his hands around her throat even as the blood and scourge in his veins hardened to ice, the flames of hatred and heartbreak that had blistered his flesh for so long soothed by the north wind that had lifted her aloft. Green frosted over to blue, and he wept as he finally _saw_ her.

 _ **I have been dead for so long, living in this sack of fetid meat,**_ he sighed, his breath unfurling in a cloud before his lips.

 _ **Rest, my love. May your soul know peace at last,**_ she murmured intimately, curling around his chin and caressing his cheek gently.

With a final sharp icicle stabbed into his heart, his body was frozen icebound at last. The fractals of blue had petrified the monster struggling to break free, but his iced-over eyes remained locked on hers as she leaned in to press her sweet lips to his. Even after all this time, he could still scent her flavor of fresh, sharp snow as he sucked in his final breath.

 _ **Linger not, my love. The heirs of Eos are gathered for the cleansing. Join us.**_

There was much to discuss, many wounds to heal. But by the grace of Eos, they would have an eternity to find the will to forgive.

She pulled away, and he had just enough time to answer, _**I shall await you in the Realm of Eos**_ , before his body burst into shards of ice, falling to shatter in glittering diamonds on the pavement below with a deceptively delicate tinkling.

His consciousness remained just long enough to hear her final words to Eosphoros before he faded away into his mother's golden embrace.

 _ **O Chosen King of the Stone,**_ she whispered, _ **restore the Light to this world.**_

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Though this has never happened to me, I have heard that Ifrit will snore if you keep him waiting for too long.


	102. Chapter 102

**Author's Note:**

Warning: canonical character death.

* * *

Noct ran a quivering hand over the words etched deep into the tarnished silver metal— _Audience Chamber_. Gods, the thought was so surreal—to have left this place a kid and returned after having felled gods, conquered an empire, become a god himself, and seen the near extinction of all life on Eos. And here the five of them were, warily standing in the grand entrance gazing shiftily around the brightly-lit room as he examined the Citadel Guide Map like he was some kinda tourist.

"Home, at long last," Iggy breathed, his reverent rumble still managing to echo over the polished marble and onyx tiles.

Growing up in this cold, empty warehouse, Noct had never considered this place home. He'd been too busy being a stupid kid, living a sheltered life and believing he had it rough when he had _no_ idea about the poverty and devastation going on in his own country outside his city's walls. He hadn't a damn clue that as hard as he thought his future was supposed be, he hadn't even been close. How could he have, when he'd been building up his own Wall against any mention of his future?

As they got older, Noct bet Iggy'd spent way more time in this place than he had, and he had a feeling, now that he knew him better, that Specs had never been happy here, either. Its opulence was always a reminder that neither of them were who they wanted to be, and they'd have to take over it one day—like it or not. Hell, the fact that he was examining a map pointing him in the direction of the nearest information desk was proof enough that this place wasn't a home so much as a monument to the grandiosity of Lucis that could be found nowhere else on the planet, even in the rest of the country.

That heavy stone that had been weighing in his heart since he'd gotten to the city seemed to lighten a little as he stood there and traced the letters that spelled out _Audience Chamber_. Maybe his dad had made what he thought had been the best decisions at the time, but he'd helped them get to this point. This wasn't _all_ Noct's fault, any of their faults.

Things were gonna change tonight, though. The monarchy would end. The Power of Eos would be returned to star where it belonged, and the four best people in the world would have some kinda hand in setting mankind on the right course.

He hung his head for a second and let out a long sigh, closing his eyes and letting another shudder wrack his body from his head to his toes.

"Noct," Ignis said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, and he did his best not to flinch at the touch. "There is nothing in this world more important than the trial you're about to undergo. Should you need to rest—"

"No." He spun on his heel and took long, quick strides toward the bank of elevators at the back of the room. "I told you; we're running out of time."

He didn't know how he was gonna handle this confrontation with Ardyn when molten gold was trickling down his veins, fueled by the furnace now residing in the hole in his heart. His skin felt stretched tight to burst, and the pressure steadily building behind his eyes and nose felt like he was holding in a sneeze that was pushing itself to the surface whether he suppressed it or not.

If he wasn't sure how he was going to hold it through another fight, he sure as hell couldn't hold it through another night's restless sleep.

"At least he's lit it all up," Prompto said as Noct pressed the call button to the nearest elevator. The door slid open smoothly, and the five of them stepped inside. "Wouldn't've expected him to turn the elevator on and everything."

Gladio let out a mirthless chuckle, "Guess he's expecting company."

As Noct reached out to press the button that would take them to the Hall of History and the audience chamber, Laura leaned back into the corner of the polished black stone wall. "You and EXINERIS did most of the work for him, keeping the lines up; he just had to turn everything on."

"Actually, the line from Hammerhead was pretty much left untouched during the Siege."

"Figures," Prompto scoffed.

"At least we've been spared the chore of legging our way up," Ignis said, casting a concerned eye in Noct's direction.

The second the doors slid shut, Noct turned to face the four of them standing at the back of the little space with their arms crossed, but Prompto's expression had pinched into panic.

"Um . . . what if this is a trap? He could totally cut the power right now."

"No, I don't think so," Noct said with a weary sigh as he leaned back into his corner. "He could, but he's getting impatient. He could've drawn that Ifrit thing out way longer if he wanted."

The silence that fell between the five of them as they gently swayed their way up was heavy and laced with the kind of emotion that was causing the knot to rise in his throat—a soundless dirge sung just for him. He closed his eyes and turned his head away to shut it out. This pre-mourning wasn't what he wanted, but if they hadn't all loved each other as much as they had, this entire trick wouldn't've worked.

"And you?" Iggy asked, breaking the silence just as the doors slid open with the gentle chime of a bell. "How are you feeling?"

Noct stepped into the hall, his shoes clacking against the polished stone floor. "I'm fine, Specs, thanks."

Even the change in pitch and echo of his heels was familiar after all these years as he stepped into the massive Hall of History and raised his eyes to the diffused lights set into the depths of the coffered ceilings. His attention fell to the stretch of murals covering the walls—different focal points of the prophecy that had claimed a stake in all their lives. Noct had never understood why his dad would get quiet and his eyes would pinch tight when they entered this room together. He wasn't even sure if the image in his head was real, but he thought he could recall the way his dad's attention would almost subconsciously dart to the framed paintings lining the walls with a deep frown.

"I always hated coming here as a kid. Always made my dad all serious and sad," he muttered.

Ignis's expression tightened just like his dad's always had as he frowned over at Noct. "It no doubt reminded him of the fate his son would come to bear."

They had just passed one of the grand fluted columns and the Zen garden that lined the outer wall, where he'd once forced Iggy to help him build a sand castle while his dad had been holding a very important meeting with an emissary from Tenebrae. Gods, they'd gotten in so much trouble for that—ushered from the hall by one of the members of staff, covered from head to toe in wet sand. Judging by the wistful twinkle in his eyes as he stared at the garden flattened with time and neglect, Ignis was reliving that same day.

"Remember how nervous we were in front of King Regis the day we left?" Gladio asked.

"That was the last time we were in here," Iggy replied.

"Yeah. They even let me in that day," Prompto added, scuffing his foot across the gold mandala laid into the polished stone floor. "And that's where we met you, Laura."

She took a couple of sidesteps to wrap an arm around Prompto's shoulders. "You guys did _not_ want me to come with you."

"N—no," Prompto protested. "That's not true!"

"Didn't want a girl breakin' up the bachelor party," Gladio agreed.

"But we're glad you came," Iggy said warmly, stepping closer to her side.

"Yeah," Noct said. "We couldn't've done it without you."

Letting his eyes drift along the walls as they drew closer to the audience chamber door, Iggy let an indulgent smile seep into his tone as he said, "I recall a young prince leaving his mark on one of these paintings. Do you think it's still there?"

"I don't think anyone could spot it," he said with a smirk. "Had one of my attendants cover it up pretty good. He was always the best at the most obscure stuff."

Iggy snorted indelicately. "A 'simple' demand required me to seek an audience with the Royal Conservator, rush to the library before it closed, and spend all night studying every art restoration book I could lay my hands on," he said with a wry smile in Noct's direction. "And then I was forced to bribe one of the caretakers at dawn to allow me in one of their cupboards for the correct supplies."

"I wish I could've had the chance to . . .," but Noct stopped when they reached the massive gold-toned mural spread across the wall for every visitor and resident to contemplate before they entered the throne room door. Though he had walked past the paintings of his future a hundred thousand times while he'd lived in and visited the Citadel, he looked up.

Even though he'd been raised with only the vaguest idea of what he would have to do one day, it wasn't until 'one day' had become today that he truly understood all that he was looking at.

With thirteen representing one hundred and thirteen of his ancestors looking on, the mother goddess Eos held her arms out straight in front of her, beseechingly passing her mantle on to the figure in the middle as he shone in a holy halo of light, transforming him into a sunrise himself. Noct guessed Nadir, whoever that had even been really, had painted this scene after Ifrit's betrayal and the fake prophecy had been created, since only Five of the remaining Six were watching as the King of Light sent his shining swords forth to slay the daemons writhing below.

The three men kneeled by his side were easy to identify now that they were standing right beside him. Prompto's bright blonde hair and concerned-looking demeanor stood out the most to his eyes. Noct thought the artist had taken a few liberties with Gladio's likeness—the hair on his head conspicuously missing while the beard looked a bit too long—but his thicker frame made him stand out against the other three.

It was who Gladio was supporting that caught his interest. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the face half turned away in the shadows. Gods, the shape of it reminded him of Iggy, but he seemed to be flagging. He looked . . .

"Ignis, are you wearing a blindfold?"

"They call him 'the man who can see in the dark,'" Laura answered softly, and he looked down to see her staring up at the painting with a wide-eyed, pained expression. "Stars, but that painting could have been taken far more literally had things gone differently."

"But it didn't happen," Ignis reminded her.

"Hmm. Guessing Ardyn was meant to appear in these, too. He was supposed to be the darkness of legends all along," Prompto said.

"Ironically," Iggy replied, "since he was to be the original King of Light."

"Wow," Prompto breathed, turning to stare at Noct, "and that ended up being you instead."

"Yeah."

Thinking of Laura's words on mercy, he tried to imagine what it would be like to be Ardyn as he went through all this without friends. Really, Noct had been just as cursed by the burden of the Caelum line as Ardyn and had just as much of a right to rail against the injustice that was his life, but the gods had done something right when they'd shown his dad that vision of what would happen if Noct had been sent on this trip on his own. They'd all left this place with imperfect—in some cases, sour—relationships, but instead of a journey to find revenge for his dad and his country, this had become a quest to find true brotherhood, sisterhood, love. That love had been the only thing to keep his feet willingly on the path that led them all here, to his death.

He let his eyes wander over Gladio, Laura, Iggy, and Prompto, wondering what this journey would've been like without their support and unwavering loyalty as he'd lost himself piece by piece to the power of divinity. What must Ardyn's journey have been like without those things? It was no wonder Ardyn hadn't wanted to sacrifice himself—he didn't really have anything or anyone to sacrifice himself _for_.

Turning back to the painting, Noct said in a low voice, "He's been living a long time—in a world he could share with no one."

Molten-hot fingers slipped between his, squeezing tightly, and he didn't need to turn to see who was standing by his side. "He didn't have a hand to hold," Laura said softly, "but you do."

Three more hands fell heavily on his shoulders, and Noct found he had to raise his eyes to the ceiling to keep the tears from falling—again—as he was enveloped. He couldn't tell whose arms were whose in the mass of tangled limbs and hitching breaths as the five of them became a single being, and _gods_ , the love threatened to sweep him away.

He never wanted it to end, but of course it did—all too soon.

Prompto sniffled as they pulled apart, wiping vigorously at his eyes with his gloved hands. "Can't believe I've been up on your wall since before you were born, dude." His voice still thick with tears, he looked over at Laura and asked, "Hey, how come you're not in the prophecy?"

Laura raised her head up to the mural with a contemplative expression. "I was never supposed to be here. In every moment I walk, Time attempts to cover my tracks, refracts around me and does its best to compensate."

"What do you mean by that?" Ignis asked sharply.

She lowered her eyes to the four of them. "Haven't you all noticed how people keep referring to us as 'the boys'?"

"I mean, yeah, think we've all noticed that," Prompto said with a shrug, "but I kinda figured it was just easier to say it that way."

Laura shook her head. "Given enough time, I'll be forgotten. It's kinda related to how I can sneak around. I don't leave a lasting impression, so I try to stay out of written record as much as possible so I don't confuse people."

"That's why you wanted to be removed from The Lord of the Rings," Gladio said slowly, his eyes growing wider as he put the pieces together. "Even I've done that thing where— . . . Princess . . . no."

"Not on top of everything else!" Prompto protested. "The whole progression of our lives wouldn't even make sense if we forgot you."

But Laura was already shaking her head with a soft smile. "Which is why you guys, and a few others, always remember me."

"Whew!" Prompto sighed. He bit his lip and frowned, his eyes darting back and forth between Laura and Noct, who had turned toward the throne room doors and was letting those eight decorated panels loom over him as he contemplated what he was about to do. "For a second there, I thought . . . but I . . . guess that means I won't be able to share most of our photos."

Noct's heart was throbbing in his throat as he brushed the tips of his fingers against the door, but at Prompto's mention of photos, he turned around to face them.

"Can I see them?"

"Huh? Um . . . yeah"

As he undid a couple of buttons and reached into his coat to pull out his camera, Noct added to clarify, "I just need one . . . to take with me." Just in case Luna wasn't around to remind him this time.

Prompto froze, his expression crumbling. "Oh . . .yeah. I get it," he said softly. When he began moving again, he reached into the other side of his coat to pull out a thick stack of photos. "I don't have every single one printed out, just the best ones, but, um . . . you can take whichever you like."

The four of them huddled around him, peering over his shoulders as he flipped through the record of their journey together: the first time they'd set up camp, the five of them posing around the newly-repaired Regalia, Prompto and Cindy on the overlook outside Hammerhead, all of them wearing those stupid t-shirts and goofing off with their chocobos outside Wiz's, Ignis and Laura stumbling through the door in Lestallum, Gladio and Prompto posing outside the Disc, him and Gladio at the masked ball in Altissia, the five of them standing against the sunrise in Cartanica. It seemed to take forever to go through them all as he paused to listen to the others making remarks or rehashing old memories, but it would never be long enough. Their time together had to end at some point, though, so he flipped back to the beginning and plucked out the photo of the five of them posing around the Regalia outside the Hammerhead garage.

The very first of some of the best days of his life.

"Can't beat that. The shot of the five of us together with the car?" Gladio asked.

"That's a good choice—a reminder of how far we've all come together," Laura said.

"Yeah," Noct chuckled. "Most of us still wanted to kill you when this was taken."

Iggy nodded approvingly. "Despite our many obstacles, through it all, we had each other."

"Then it's settled. That's the one?" Prompto asked. His glassy blue eyes seemed to plead that they not walk through that door, but Noct knew he'd never say it out loud. "No backsies?"

Noct tucked the photo into his coat pocket and looked at each of them. Iggy's face was covered in filth, Prompto had a burn just under his left eye that he'd gotten from Ifrit and hadn't taken the time to heal, Laura had a cut across her cheek oozing pearlescent blood, and Gladio's Glaive coat was sliced open at the left forearm and stained red. Though they were standing tall and waiting for his final word, they all looked like they desperately needed a night's sleep. But the work was over for them now. It was all up to him from here on out.

And he couldn't stand to keep saying goodbye.

"No turning back now," he said heavily. Without even the slightest hesitation this time, he reached out to pull on the handle on the golden-paneled door. He opened it and strode confidently into the throne room, the steps of his four best friends in the world echoing behind him. Really, Noct had always hated this room as a kid, too. Its polished stone and sparkling gold always screamed of the weight of his destiny every time he entered. The sight of his enfeebled father wearing that black ring on his finger had never helped.

As they drew closer, he raised his eyes to throne, recalling with a flash of heartache the last time he'd stood on that landing and stared up with resentment at his dad representing his entire future laid out in front of him—the last time anything had been remotely normal. The five of them took three more steps before he fully registered the scene and faltered.

Noct had been expecting to find Ardyn seated at the throne when they entered, so that long, languorous body half slouched across the cushioned stone seat as though he were expecting at any moment for an attendant to enter and begin feeding him peeled grapes didn't surprise Noct in the slightest. The most dramatic piece of evidence of the war that had rocked the entire planet and set the prophecy in motion was the grand window to their left that had been smashed to pieces, and jagged chunks of mortar spilled down both flights of stairs to the floor at their feet. Not even the sight of the Crystal—nearly dead, her power drained to support her champion, and chained above the throne—shocked him.

No, it was the sight of the four figures dangling in chains from the high ceiling—contorted into puppet-like poses as their grotesque, agonized expressions leaked Starscourge—that sent a flood of horror through him he didn't even think he was capable of feeling anymore.

"What . . . is that?!" Prompto gasped.

"It's just an illusion. It isn't real," Laura said in a low, urgent voice. "Noct, it's okay."

But even with her comforting declaration, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene. Two of the figures he didn't even recognize—a Glaive he'd never met and an older man in long white robes he assumed to be Emperor Aldercapt. But his dad . . . Luna.

"Noct," Ignis whispered, bringing him back to the present. No. He couldn't change what was already lost, so he wasn't gonna be distracted by the illusions and delusions of a madman.

"I'm afraid you're out of luck," Ardyn sneered as they slowly approached the base of the steps—a perfect imitation of the mocking tone of his words when they were first looking to board the ferry in Galdin all those years ago. "The throne brings you here?" He sat back against the red velvet, gripping the polished arms in both hands and chuckling wickedly. "It seats only one."

"Off my chair, jester," Noct said darkly. "The King sits there."

Noct guessed the inhuman speed at which Ardyn leapt up and irreverently planted a heavy boot on the throne's seat was supposed to shock them all, but they held their ground as Ardyn stared down at his boot on the throne, then at Noct from the side of his eye.

"Oh, Noct . . .," he cooed tenderly, that odd burgundy hair catching the low light to shine almost purple as he turned toward them. "How I have waited for this. Longer than you could ever know."

"Actually . . .," Prompto muttered under his breath, "about two thousand years."

"Yeah. Pretty sure we all know by now," Laura agreed.

Gladio huffed a sardonic laugh. "Spite's all that's kept him going."

"Talk about a grudge," Prompto said.

It didn't matter on what terms Ardyn had decided to lose tonight; Noct had chosen to win with _all_ the spoils of victory, with all his friends' lives intact.

"Well you won't have to wait any longer. This is my ascension," Noct growled.

With an oily smirk and a violent jerk of his fist, Ardyn shot four streams of glittering purple energy toward them—two on either side of where Noct was standing.

"No!" Ignis shouted, stepping forward to fling a hand up and summon a shield. Noct didn't need to tear his eyes away from his enemy to worry about his friends. That same icy blue web of protection Specs had shown off outside sprung from his outstretched fingers and spread across the four of them like a popup tent. The four spells hit the shield and exploded across the frosted surface, spreading like fireworks before dissipating.

"I'm ready to be shot of being shot at for good, thank you," Iggy said, lifting his chin high as he glared up at Ardyn.

Ardyn narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, stepping forward to the edge of the dais. "How interesting. The little boy's all grown up. No longer asking your dear Mummy to protect you?"

"Don't look at me," Laura replied, raising her hands in surrender. "I'm just along for the ride. My work here is done."

The smirk across his lips grew wider. "Along for the _ride_ , indeed." Turning to Noct, his expression grew hard. "Still hiding behind your more talented friends, I see. After all this time," he sighed, "and _still_ , an ineffectual 'King.'"

"Wouldn't have gotten this far without them. Why stop now?" he said with an unashamed shrug. "But this time? It's you and me. Let's finish this once and for all."

Tawny-colored eyes shifted over each of the figures standing tall behind Noct, as though Ardyn were coming to some monumental decision. The room grew still.

"You're right!" he suddenly crowed after several seconds, leaping high into the air and warping to the gaping hole in the wall. "They have no place in this—the battle of kings. Come, Noctis!" Without waiting for a response, he turned and fell gracefully out the window to warp onto the courtyard below.

"Well," Noct said, facing the other four. "This is it."

"We wish you well," Iggy said, bowing his head. "We'll await you outside."

* * *

Every bone in his body screamed in protest as he fell from the sky and slapped spread-eagled against the pavement, exhausted from the match of Royal Arm against Royal Arm as they'd clashed through the streets of his former home. His heart was stuttering, ramming itself against the inside of his chest and threatening with each beat to rip him apart right there in the middle of that courtyard—too soon. The sharp, loose rocks scattering across the paving stones scraped against his sensitive skin as he dragged his palms beneath him to push himself up. He had to get a weapon in his hand again before Ardyn could—the fate of the entire world depended on it.

"The ten years you spent accumulating your power," Noct heard Ardyn groan as he summoned his dad's sword to his hand with a grunt of pain, "I spent assimilating daemons and accumulating mine, and so it comes down to a war of attrition." Noct planted the tip of the blade into the stone and leaned into it, allowing it to support him as he struggled to his feet. "You know, I was so close," Ardyn continued, and Noct looked over to see him also struggling to his feet, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. " . . . so very close to taking those friends of yours . . . and making them into daemons."

Noct stood to his full height and met Ardyn's eyes just as Ardyn managed to pull himself straight. The whisper in the back of Noct's head that had been growing louder as he lost the strength to hold his Royal Armiger in this world suddenly surged, and they both looked up to the ghostly blue forms of the Lucii shimmering into view, hovering over the walls surrounding the courtyard and casting the Citadel in an eerie light.

"The Kings of Yore are on hand," Ardyn sneered, "calling you forth . . . to oblivion."

As Noct slowly turned in a circle, his eyes fell to the base of the steps leading up to the Citadel's grand entrance, where he could just make out four shadows standing side by side in a line.

It was the sight of his little family standing there to support him that bolstered his resolve far more than any immortal king on his side.

"Well, let's have it, then," Ardyn said matter-of-factly, summoning his blood-red blade to his hand.

As Noct brandished his dad's sword and met Ardyn's attack, he noticed that their acrobatic flexing of the Power of Kings had worn his opponent down. Each thrust and parry was met with less resistance; each evasion came that slightest bit slower, but then again, so were his own. They were both long past ready to end this game.

 _His body is the conduit to his soul in the Crystal,_ the Old Kings whispered. _A hit with each of the Arms will find him in that realm after death._

Noct re-summoned for his first hit—the Sword of the Wise.

"You know those kings will not protect you," Ardyn sneered as though he'd heard them.

So this was his aim—to _talk_ Noct into not going through with this. He must not have realized that it was already too late, that he was fighting a dead man walking. Ardyn had already lost; he just didn't know it yet.

The Axe of the Conqueror. The Sword of the Wanderer.

"I know. _I_ am the protector—the Chosen."

"Chosen, indeed. Chosen to die!" he scoffed with a thrust to Noct's heart. Noct bent backwards to avoid the tip lunging toward him, but it bit into the fabric of his raiment and just barely nicked his skin with a burning bite. "The Crystal uses you. Drains you of life. It plays you all for fools."

Noct spun to the side to dodge another thrust and struck out to Ardyn's flank, sinking in through flesh until he met the resistance of bone with the Blade of the Mystic.

"I know, and I accept it if it means driving out the darkness."

"Have you made your peace, King?" Ardyn panted, but his tone had almost grown sincere as Noct continued to hammer at him, meeting only half-hearted resistance.

The Star of the Rogue. The Sword of the Tall. The Mace of the Fierce.

"If the darkness should die, so shall you," Ardyn said as though offering him a secret piece of advice. Noct bet he'd been hoping to shock him with that revelation, but the mention of victory at last, even at the cost of his own life, merely steeled his resolve.

"I have learned the truth and made my peace."

The Bow of the Clever. The Scepter of the Pious. The Shield of the Just. The Katana of the Warrior.

Ardyn's face twisted with Noct's words, growing pale in the bluish light cast by the Kings of Yore watching over them. His snarl deepened as he released himself in a raw scream, spitting, "Curse you kings and your iniquitous Crystal! I HATE YOU WITH ALL MY BEING."

The Trident of the Oracle.

He'd never associate that weapon in his arsenal with the Oracle King. That stab to the gut was for Luna.

Answering seemed like a pointless reaction, even if Noct was kinda curious to know whether Ardyn was screaming at him, at Somnus, or at himself. He flicked the trident away to bring his dad's sword back to his hand. It seemed only fitting to finish Ardyn off and reclaim his throne with the blade that had once fought for Noct's future. He heaved the metal directly into Ardyn's belly and pushed until he felt the resistance give as the blade pierced through Ardyn's back.

 _That_ was for his dad. That was for himself.

Ardyn collapsed on his knees to the stone, grasping ineffectually at the wound. "So . . .," he croaked—sounding almost surprised that Noct had _finally_ done it, "that . . . is how you would end it."

As though attached to Ardyn's life force, the ethereal light illuminating the courtyard dimmed as Ardyn crumpled at Noct's feet. The shock seizing Noct's breath slowly eased as he looked up to see the Lucii disappearing one by one, taking the light with them.

 _We return at the close. Do not linger,_ the Mystic reminded him as he faded away.

 _I'll be there shortly._

He couldn't remember when it had begun to rain during their encounter, but fat drops were splashing onto his already heavy raiment and soaking it through to weigh him down. The courtyard had dimmed to the indirect light shining from the wrought iron lampposts lining the drive, and if what Iggy had told him was true, then the conditions were just right for the daemons to flood the place any minute now.

"Now it is over, Majesty. What will you do?" Ardyn asked indifferently, staring blankly up at the black sky. Noct crouched down next to him, watching his eyes roam over the canvas of black hanging over their heads and fleetingly wondering if Ardyn had ever missed the stars. "Banish the daemons and bring peace? Erase me from history once more?"

"This time," he said softly, weighting his words with significance as he remembered Laura's plea for mercy, "you can rest in peace. Close your eyes—forevermore. But I?" He let out a warm, humorless chuckle. "I intend to wake with the Dawn."

Ardyn's golden eyes rolled up, and his lids fell closed. "I will await you . . . in the beyond," he murmured, just before his body fell to ash.

Noct stared at the spot where Ardyn had disappeared, wishing he could shout into the emptiness in his chest just to hear his own voice echoing back to him. He'd _won_ , for now, but the victory felt hollow. This wasn't finished yet—Ardyn could still re-embody himself if Noct didn't take care of him in the Great Beyond. And if he didn't get moving, he'd miss his chance and burst before he'd collected the rest of the power to purge the world.

With slow, heavy steps, Noct dragged his worn and wet body to the stairs where the others waited. They parted to make room for him as he passed without acknowledging them, but after several steps up the flight, he paused and turned.

He'd already said his goodbyes far too many times—had already memorized every shadow and point of light on each of their faces. He'd been gathering every memory he had of them to take with him to the throne, but this moment? This would be his last. The four of them stood in a line facing him—dripping wet and exhausted, but standing tall and awaiting his orders.

"So this is farewell," Iggy said gravely.

"Yeah, here we are."

Gladio thrust his chin up as though sending him on his way with pride. "It's all you."

"No turning back now," Prompto added.

"I should come with y—" Laura began, but he cut her off.

"No."

"But I promised you I would—"

"The daemons will be arriving soon. I need you to stay with them."

"Understood," Ignis answered for her, pulling his posture straighter. "Does His Majesty have any final commands for us? For Lucis?"

Noct stared longingly at the four of them, a part of him wishing he could join them in their future adventures, but at the same time, he was so _tired_. He was ready to rest now, having at last earned his reprieve from the burdens of ruling—as soon as he committed this final act.

Meeting each of their eyes in turn for what felt like the millionth time since he'd woken up, Noct addressed them individually.

"Prompto."

"Gladio."

"Ignis."

"Laura."

"I leave it to you, but remember I'm doing this for you. Go and live your lives. Don't forget to be happy, and take care of each other."

Laura took another step forward, her mouth twitching like she still wanted to protest, but she stopped suddenly as though chastised. Noct understood as she slowly turned to look back at Iggy, and he nodded slowly in approval of whatever Iggy was telling her.

"Yes, Your Majesty," she murmured after a second's hesitation, lowering her eyes to his feet.

"We'll fend 'em off—keep 'em from ripping down the place while you do your thing," Gladio said.

The four of them fell silent, frowning up at him just as longingly, until Iggy murmured just above the gentle pattering of rain against the stone, "Godspeed . . . and take care." At his signal, they all stood to attention, crossing their arms over their chests and bowing deeply. "Majesty."

They stood straight but didn't tear their eyes from him as a thunderous rumble shook the courtyard. Giant pairs fists popped out of the ground to pound against the asphalt, followed by that despised creaking of daemon flesh pulling itself into this realm. Blast after blast, more appeared in a mass of black, clenched limbs and swirls of purple miasma. There was no way the four of them could hold them off for long. As much as he hated to rush this final goodbye, he didn't think he could handle it if he lost one of them this far in their journey after all they'd been through.

Pressing a fist to his heart in farewell, he said in a steadying tone, "The time has come. Walk tall, my friends."

Turning away went against his every instinct, but he nevertheless turned his back on his friends and the hordes of daemons to rush up the steps, surprised to find himself almost eager to complete this final task.

* * *

He let his tingling fingertips drift over the raised ridges of the throne's arm—gold bands set among the black—and allowed himself a final moment to gaze over the empty throne room.

"I'm home. I walked tall," he said softly—knowing his dad, his ancestors, even the remaining gods, were hovering just beyond the veil between life and death, listening to his every word. "And though it took me a while, I'm ready now."

Sitting on the throne that had been destined to be his all his life, he couldn't find even a moment to experience the gravity of his lonesome coronation, because as usual, he had farewells to make and lives to save. "I love you all. Luna. Prompto, Iggy, Laura, Gladio . . ."

As he spoke, he gathered that gold that had been sparking and licking at his insides since he'd woken up—collected from Eos and the Fleurets—and brought it to dance just under the surface of his skin. His mortal flesh was the conduit for the star now. He'd earned his pledges from his ancestors and the gods, and now all that needed to happen to finish this was for them to make good on their word to join him.

The power of the light emanating from glowing hands and cheeks nearly blinded him to the dark room, but as the last name hovered on his lips, Noct thought he could see the ghostly figure of the man standing with his back to him—as though he'd summoned him here.

". . . Dad."

 _Stay with me_ , he pleaded silently.

"The time we had together . . . I cherish."

The dregs of power that had been left in the Crystal to warm the planet shone down to crown his Chosen head, and he looked up and closed his eyes, bathing himself in its blessed light as it called him home.

"Heirs of Eos . . ." The energy was already threatening to rip him apart as it boiled under the surface, but he opened his eyes and summoned his dad's sword with a violent slash.

"COME TO ME!"

Noct punctuated his command with a powerful thrust, planting the blade's tip deep into the stone at his feet.

They obeyed. Thirteen spectral weapons shot from the sky to hover in a circle around the throne. Noct waited with both his hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of his father's blade as he braced himself for what was to come—his head bowed, his eyes closed. He could hear those Old Kings rising like daemons from the ground with the whisper of the dead that had plagued his subconscious thoughts since the second he'd put that Ring on.

It grew still and silent.

Noct took one last shuddering breath.

The only warning he received was a whoosh of air before the first king blasted into him. Liquid fire raced through his veins, spreading from the point of contact across his body. He grunted with the effort of holding it in as it coalesced into a golden pool of volcanic heat and settled in that hole they'd carved out in his soul. Eos, he thought he'd already burned alive in the Crystal, but the pain radiating through him to keep from bursting into a supernova was eating away at his insides as each king slammed into his chest.

All the while, he could feel his father by his side—silently hovering, waiting.

The strength of his mortal body waning, he distracted himself by remembering.

He remembered what it had been like to dream about the stars on a window bench with a book in his lap and Ignis by his side, to hold his first beer in his hand and laugh at some stupid joke Gladio had just told, to skip school and go to the arcade with Prompto, to watch the sun set and the stars come out with Laura. He remembered what it had felt like when he realized that he'd fallen in love with Luna.

All that love for the best people in the world was going to be a part of the equation when he reset it.

The grooves of the intricate hilt irritated his already oversensitive fingertips as his hand slowly slipped from the glaive, but he managed to reach out with the other hand, grasp the hilt once again, and slowly drag it to offer the pummel out to his dad.

"Dad . . .," he managed to spit out through his darkening vision. He didn't know how he was going to hold the power swirling behind his eyeballs when the gods joined him, but he would. Oh, he would.

"Trust in me," he pleaded, though the words _for once in your life_ still echoed through his head.

The Sword of the Father disappeared from his grasp. Noct nearly fell off the throne from the loss of its support, but he rammed his body back to center and waited, hanging limp and panting down at the floor. The shimmering white glow of his dad's battle armor hovered just within his peripheral vision. His dad drew his blade back and waited, hesitating. Was he planning to . . .? A small, weak part of him that was still a kid skipping behind his father's footsteps wanting to feel loved hoped he was intending to truly run him through. It would be a mercy if he wouldn't have to be conscious for the Astral joining and the final release.

 _Do it_ , he commanded—whatever it was his dad intended for him.

The figure surged forward, burying his blade and body into Noct's abdomen.

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but Noct thought he could feel the seeping cold of regret that had been absent in the others.

But the blow turned solid as the sword shifted into this realm, cutting and searing its way through his skin and guts and pinning his flesh to the back of the throne. He felt one final flash of pain in addition to the fire still roaring in his head as the Astrals flew to his failing flesh.

And Noctis Lucis Caelum knew no more of this world.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Again, I mostly skipped Royal Edition here. I didn't see any narrative significance to scourging some of the Old Kings besides, "Look! More stuff to fight!"

Some of the dialogue was cut from the final battle with Ardyn and added back in for Pocket Edition. I'm not sure if they ever added it into the main game, but I thought I'd mention here that I used it for this battle. Ardyn screaming "I hate you with all my being" was a pretty significant declaration to me in regard to character, along with the other things he said there. It has, of course, been edited a little and stitched together to fit.

Also, as I mentioned previously, I messed around with the whole Crystal/Ring/King situation, so Noct is the one exploding to create the light bomb that cleanses the world here, and not the Ring.


	103. Chapter 103

"Iggy!"

Gladio's rather vague warning, if that was what it even was, came too late. The very end of his hoarse cry was cut off as a fist the size of the desk sitting innocently in his office several floors above his head crashed into his side and sent him flying across the courtyard.

Though drained and likely in possession of a cracked rib or three, Ignis didn't require Laura's urgent, wordless suggestion—so intense that it seemed to rattle his brain in his skull. Releasing his instinct to grip his daggers as tightly as possible, he tossed his right blade to the ground and twisted into time. At first, the shock of entering the lifeless, rhythmless realm in addition to the beating he'd recently taken—really the beating he'd endured since he'd woken up at their final campsite yesterday morning—seized his muscle and bone, bond and breath. No matter how many times he did this, it would always feel as though he were bursting into a thousand pieces. Man would never be well-suited to this plane of existence as a TARDIS, or Laura herself, was.

But the cessation of gravity and direction was enough for him to halt his flight, sense the dagger he'd thrown, and step easily on the air to reach it. He released the magic to appear back into the battle with a grunt and a gasp, his body curled around the blade stuck into the asphalt.

He may have saved his own life, but as he attempted to loosen himself from his tight ball, jagged knives of electric pain shot down his limbs, forcing a violent shudder through him and pushing against his cracked ribs. Freezing cold and soaking wet, he could do little but lie on the asphalt, his nerves still stunned and screaming. He tried unclenching his fists to reach out for the armiger and pull out a potion, but his joints remained rigid.

And he still couldn't breathe.

 _Rose,_ he cried out, wishing he could have the satisfaction of physically releasing his agony, _I can't breathe._ _I can't move._

 _I'm coming._

Ignis could no longer feel the slap of freezing raindrops on his mud-splattered cheeks or the searing cold that had long ago sapped his hands of feeling. The stretch of flat paving stone between the two staircases leading to the front doors of the Citadel was certainly no place to lose consciousness, surrounded as they were on three sides by what appeared to be every iron giant that had turned inside the Crown City. But he couldn't help himself. The slams of flesh against stone, steel against flesh, faded away with the screams and grunts of human and daemon alike as he began to feel himself drift . . .

A sudden wet slap and vibration of a body flopping next to him jerked him back to consciousness—the radiating pain of his wounds and raw nerves standing out in sharp relief once again as he shivered and shuddered there on the wet concrete, still curled around his blade for what little protection it could offer him. Somewhere in the back of his head, the analytical part of his mind was telling him that the crashing of the legion of iron giants stomping craters into the pavement all around him was muffled, but he still couldn't open his eyes to verify.

He had to have been lying there for ten seconds, at the _very_ least. Where was Laura? Why wasn't he dead yet?

He didn't have the chance to call for her again before one of his questions was answered. "Gladio, over here!" Laura shouted. In a softer voice, she added, "I've got you. Let me sort you two out."

She let out a soft cry of pain, and Ignis heard the familiar crack of glass, tinkling of magic, and gasp of someone being revived.

"Whooo!" Prompto hooted, but his tone grew panicked as he followed up with, "Oh, shit! Laura!"

"Let me in!" Gladio bellowed, but still the sound was softened, as though shouted from a great distance.

 _Hold on, love. Prompto was worse off than you._

Ignis found he couldn't answer as, for the span of roughly two seconds, the cracking thunder of countless daemons the size of Magitek engines battering gods only knew what increased exponentially, threatening to shatter his skull from sound alone. The sensation of gentle fingers on his neck was followed by the attenuation of the cacophony.

"Iggy," Gladio murmured. "Is he all right?"

"We're out of range of the necklace. Give him a hi-elixir, will you?" Ignis heard Laura ask breathlessly. "Summoning while holding this thing up is . . . problematic."

Again, he heard the delicate tinkling and breaking glass, followed by the soothing sensation of a wash of Noct's magic—bringing with it a sharp clarity as his every pain trickled away like a bad memory, even if the curative did nothing for his current state of exhaustion. But when he cracked his eyes open and was pulled by the wrists into a sitting position, he found after assessing the situation that they weren't much better off than almost dead.

"What can I do?" Prompto pleaded, his fear making his eyes bulge as he struggled to hold Laura upright. Ignis didn't concern himself with the dark patch of blood oozing from Prompto's blonde hair down the left side of his cheek—still shining in the lamplight but obviously handled by whatever curative Laura had given him. But . . .

"Laura."

She was lying collapsed between Prompto's legs, propped up against his chest. Glittering opalescent blood dripped from a gash in her coat that ran from her right bicep and across her breast to her diaphragm, but for all that she appeared pale and unconscious, her mind was straining, her hands wide open in her lap. A trickling stream of blue-white light rose from her fingertips to stretch above their heads in a complex pattern of cobalt, flickering and flashing each time a massive black fist or flaming sword pummeled the delicate-looking web.

 _Rose?_ Ignis asked, crawling clumsily to her side. _How long can you hold that up?_

A slow, syrupy smile spread across her bluish lips, but her lashes lay still against her bone-white cheeks. _For you? Forever._

 _That_ was of little help, as he knew it couldn't be the truth. Clearly, she was delirious, as she often seemed to get whenever she was badly injured. Leaning in closer, he thought he could detect in the low light a shimmer of pearl mixed in with the rain dripping from her face, so she must have hit her head at some point, but he couldn't locate the source of the wound amidst her dark hair. Even after all these years on this world, giving her one of their last remaining curatives would do more harm than good. Not only would it leave her too weak to fight afterward, it would likely break her concentration in holding the dome of protection keeping them all alive right now.

Ignis leaned even closer so that he could cup her face in his hands and touch his lips to her forehead, burying himself deep into their bond and preparing to gather the last of his strength to initiate their combined healing magic. Stars, he wasn't sure he could maintain consciousness through the process, but they would need her power for whatever plan they could come up with to get them out of this.

To his surprise, Laura shoved him roughly from their deeper connection. _Don't you dare,_ she growled, the dazed tone disappearing immediately in her warning. _If I fail, you get to hold up this shield next._

"Is it because you're so close to the Crystal?" Gladio asked as he kneeled at Prompto's side to examine her more closely.

"No. Haven't you felt it? The bonds to our magic have mostly transferred to Noct since he awoke," Ignis answered. "It's allowed her some greater measure of compatibility with this world, but I imagine we can't expect to see any improvements until the process is complete."

"So what's wrong with her then?" he demanded, reaching out to check her pulse.

"I suspect a head injury."

Over the shattering crashes of the daemons attempting to beat their little shield down as they huddled together there on the steps, Ignis heard Prompto's calm, resigned question. "We're gonna die, aren't we? There're way too many for us to handle."

"It's a scenario I'd like to avoid, if we can help it," Ignis said mildly. "If we could just separate them, tackle them even three or four at a time, we could make headway."

"Whatever happens, we did our job," Gladio added solemnly. "Kept 'em distracted while Noct does his."

"You guys . . . you've been the best friends, you know? All of you," Prompto said, holding Laura more tightly to his chest.

"And while I return the sentiment," Ignis replied in a steely tone, "I'm not ready to give up just yet." As he searched the puddle he'd been lying in for his Therinal dagger he'd used to warp, he added silently, _Should circumstances go wrong, do you have the energy necessary to leave?_

 _Not bloody likely! You're the one delirious for thinking I would._

 _Be reasonable,_ he snapped. _Better one of us lives than all of us losing our lives here._

 _Whatever happens, it's happening to all of us._

 _Stubborn, petulant, and irrational,_ he spat. Closing his hand around the hilt made specifically to the shape of his palms, he yanked the dagger from a crack in the stone and thrust it at Laura. "'Knock the planet off its axis,' if I recall correctly. We've been saving these for such a moment, have we not?" he shouted over the din. "What can you do with it while I take over the shield?"

Her fingers grasped clumsily at the hilt, closing around the firestone set into the base. _Power . . . of light_ , she mumbled. _Eilendil?_

 _If you are insinuating that you must first ask my permission to use that energy to save your lives . . ._ , he growled menacingly.

"I think we have a plan," Ignis said to the others, wedging his hand under Laura's palm, which was still feeding the shield above them.

Reaching out to his bond with the liege who was currently sacrificing himself for all of them, he connected with the shield, dominating Laura's energy until he was sustaining the feed. The three of them looked up as a molten orange blade connected with the apex of the dome, and the phosphorescence seemed to flicker for a moment. Ignis held his breath and pushed through the pain of the impact as he flooded more of his energy into the spell.

 _Whatever you're going to do, you'd better do it now,_ he advised.

When she didn't begin immediately, he looked up to meet her eyes. Concentrating as he was to keep his hands from trembling beneath hers, he hadn't noticed that she had opened them wide to stare at him with a fathomless expression. As his gaze locked on hers and the destruction assaulting his ears grew further away, he realized he hadn't asked the most basic question he should have learned to ask long ago.

 _I love you_ , she said softly, her voice high and soft. Her mind was pulling him closer in an embrace, and just beneath that adoration that had been ever-present in their connection, he could feel the slightest stirrings of fear.

 _Rose? What—_

He couldn't complete his question as a blast ripped over the courtyard—sound and light and percussion—overwhelming Ignis's senses. He was swept from his connection to the dwindling pool of his magic, reducing him to nothing but his sense of self and the golden bond still hovering behind his teeth.

 _Stay with me,_ he managed to beg in a rush. Clinging to her feeble consciousness as though it were a lifeline, Ignis allowed the darkness to swallow him whole.

* * *

Before Ignis even opened his eyes, he checked for Laura's presence still shimmering in his head. Her thread was faint, but brightening, as it often would on those rare occasions when she'd sleep longer than he, and he would pull her close beneath the warm covers, breathe in her scent, and watch as the dawn of her mind broke behind his eyelids. But this was not such a morning as they hadn't had in years. He blearily cracked his eyes open to assess their situation and experienced a brief moment of panic when he saw that his shield had failed and disappeared. But as he blinked again and the world grew into sharper focus, he registered the lack of any sound in what had just a moment ago been a warzone. Squinting out to the dim courtyard, he could just make out the raised and ripped-up piles of soaked asphalt catching the light from the streetlamps, where he'd so recently stood and said goodbye to his liege and brother, but there wasn't a daemon in sight.

All was silent but for the whisper of the frigid wind sapping away his body heat through his wet clothes and Laura's quadruple heartsbeat thudding steadily beneath his cheek.

"Wha . . . happen'd?" Ignis heard Prompto slur from somewhere beneath his left ear. He raised his head slightly to discover that he was stretched across Laura's chest, but when he tried to sit up further to check on Prompto beneath her, he found that something heavy was draped across his back and pinning him down.

"Gladio?" he inquired hesitantly as he gently elbowed what felt like a solid, wet body lying half on top of him. It stirred as he pushed against it, slowly pulling away and letting out a long, low groan.

"Levi's lips, what'd you do, Princess?" Gladio muttered, finally pulling away enough so that Ignis could push himself up and check on Laura and Prompto.

Placing careful hands on her cold and blood-soaked cheeks, Ignis plucked at their bond, feeling it stir to life. _Rose?_

Though she didn't move or open her eyes, she mumbled weakly, "Not a fracking thing, babe."

"Huh?" Prompto asked.

 _I'm okay,_ she answered, gripping her head as she attempted to sit up. _Ooh, sort of. Everything feels a bit disorganized up here._ Ignis leaned forward to steady her with a hand on her shoulder as she pulled away to allow Prompto to scoot out from underneath her. Prompto must have noticed her reeling, as he moved just far enough to sit up, but he kept his legs wrapped around her hips.

 _Are you all right?_ she asked when her head had stopped wobbling on her neck.

Instead of answering, he opened their connection, allowing her to feel his dazed confusion and exhaustion—but by the light of the dawn, he was _alive_ , and so were the rest of them.

 _Not all of us,_ she reminded him forlornly before adding, "I didn't do a thing, Gladio. That flash of light was Noct. Must've blasted over the surface of the entire planet."

"You mean he's . . .?" Prompto began.

Ignis's lungs seemed to freeze beneath his ribs when she met his eyes and nodded. "Look at the sky," she murmured sadly.

Ignis did as she asked and let his mouth drop open at the sight. As had never before been seen in Insomnia, the velvety black expanse above them was speckled with unassuming silver points of light—winking and twinkling as though they'd been present every day for the last ten years, and he supposed that they had continued on for the last decade much as they had for eons, unaware of what it had cost them all to clear Eos's atmosphere and see them again.

"Noct," he whispered.

"He did it," Gladio rumbled incredulously. "He really did it."

"Thanks, buddy," Prompto said softly. His voice hitched on a deep breath. "For everything."

Ignis did his best to swallow the knot in his throat and blink through the tears welling in his eyes as he slowly pulled himself to his feet. By the light of the first dawn they were about to experience in a third of his current life, this past week had taken its toll on his mind, body, and spirit. He felt _ancient_ , heaving himself up on sore, wobbly knees and bending his aching back to offer a stiff and cramping hand to assist Laura in standing.

But he didn't allow the pain to overcome him as he waited for the others to follow suit. They had one final duty to perform for their fallen king and brother.

They each took a long, solemn moment to exchange glances, as though checking on each other's wellbeing and verifying that this truly was happening, before turning to trudge up the last flight of steps to the entrance.

 _You're injured . . . badly,_ Ignis said matter-of-factly, eyeing the gash that stretched across her coat, still dripping thick tears of blood.

 _Am I?_

Prompto raised his eyes to the dark velvet curtain of sky, still twinkling cheerily in defiance of the weariness of the ragged mourners in this private funeral procession.

"When . . .?" but his voice trailed off.

"It's nearly five o' clock in the morning," Ignis answered. He reached out to touch the base of Laura's neck between her high collar and her hair—both to check on her quiet mind and to verify his statement through her time sense. When she confirmed the time with a distracted wordless affirmation, he frowned over at her, but still he said aloud, "We've been out all night."

"Hey," Prompto said, also frowning over at Laura as Ignis pulled his hand back to inspect the tips of his gloved fingers. As he suspected, they were coated in a fine layer of shimmery fluid. "You okay there?"

"I feel like I'm walking underwater," she said in a small, childlike voice.

"You don't look so hot," Gladio said.

Ignis stepped in front of her and placed his hands on both her shoulders. "Stop. Look at me." When her dazed eyes slid haltingly up to meet his, he said, "You've sustained a head injury, haven't you?"

"Yeah, think I saw her get sideswiped pretty bad," Prompto said. "Didn't even have time to raise a shield."

 _Please, let me heal you. We can't afford to wait for you to complete a healing coma right now._

 _Nor can we afford to wait for you to regain consciousness,_ she replied in a dreamlike voice. _I can wait for what is to come. You know from the vision what we're likely facing in there._

Ignis blanched and straightened. For years, he'd pushed aside the memory of the vision Pryna had given him on the altar, and it wasn't until his father had died a couple of days ago that it had chased him into his dreams. Though Laura had diligently watched over his fleeting thoughts while still allowing him space to grieve, the images of Noct's final moments in the throne room had hovered just on the edge of his consciousness—a sabertooth waiting to close its jaws around his jugular at an unguarded moment.

But still, he knew all too well what they would find. Doubtless, Noct's body would be pinned to the throne by his father's glaive. Astrals, they would have to yank it from his gut and keep him from dropping like a stone to the floor. No amount of scrubbing would ever wash that bloodstained throne clean, and no matter what happened in the coming months and years, Ignis refused to ever sit on it.

Would they set their brother in a tomb as Lucis had done for the Kings of Yore? Somehow, it felt ill-befitting of Noct's character. Perhaps a more appropriate way to grieve would be a private gravesite in Caem, where he had once felt so at home, known only to those who had loved him.

The tinkling sparkle of a summoning pulled Ignis from his thoughts as Gladio stepped forward to press a hi-potion into Laura's hand. "We can't leave him . . . waiting. Just this once?"

Laura gave him a long, lingering look, and before Ignis could reach out to brace her, she cracked it in her hands. A soft gasp escaped her lips as the healing magic washed over her—a far cry from the scream she'd emitted when they'd had to revive her from the brink of death outside Ravatogh all those years ago.

"Yes?" Ignis asked hesitantly when she met his eyes again.

"I can feel him in it," she breathed. "Not a hundred percent compatible, but . . ."

"Come on," Gladio said gruffly. "We have to . . . before the sun rises."

Something had changed as their steps echoed across the polished stone that they'd traversed only an hour ago. The weight of the floors above them—gilded with gold-leaf cornices and veined marble—seemed suddenly lifted from Ignis's shoulders as though he'd been set free. He would never be so naïve again as to believe that the questions he had regarding his destiny would one day be answered by a reigning authority, but with every step he took and every second in that accursed elevator, the mysteries of his and Noct's childhoods had suddenly sprung crystal clear into his mind.

He'd never openly questioned Noct's upbringing, of course—he would never have been so presumptuous as to question anything or anyone in his youth, despite his ravenous curiosity. Still, he'd always wondered why their future monarch had been permitted to live such a life of leisure—attending public schools, spending hours on end at the arcade, performing less than admirably at the simplest tasks required of a king without even the barest hint of reprimand beyond Ignis's own disapproval. Ignis had blindly and foolishly trusted that the elder Caelum knew which course was the correct to take for the future of his son and his country. Of course, King Regis would know how to raise a king because he himself had been raised as such.

At the same time, Ignis had always nursed a secret corner of his mind that noticed and questioned—why the Prince had been assigned an advisor his own age, why that advisor had been required to learn all that which was necessary to become a king himself, and much later in his life, why such an impossible promise had been extracted from a mere child at such a tender age.

Ignis understood it all now as they solemnly marched to collect what was left of their fallen brother. If there was any way in the world it was possible to save Noct from his fate, Regis trusted Ignis to do it, even if it destroyed him. But there would remain just enough of a sense of obligation for Ignis to take his place as King should he fail . . . or so Ignis presumed was the intent. And as far as Noct went . . . he simply hadn't been raised to be a good king—Ignis knew from firsthand experience. He had, however, been raised as a boy secretly desperate for approval and love. It was why, despite his moody impudence, Noct had always done what was asked of him . . . eventually. And Ignis had unwittingly played the perfect role by loving him. He'd loved him because what sort of a king would he have become without it? What sort of a man would he have grown to be without an unwavering ally? Just as Gladio, Ignis had done his best to raise Noct to be _his_ king—caring, just, and hardworking.

Ignis couldn't decide whether it was the cruelest case of manipulation he'd ever seen executed on two boys or the most genius display of a deep understanding of human psychology, but the advisor had successfully been raised to be the king and the king raised to be a hero—caring enough to make him willing to sacrifice himself and tenacious enough to make it through his trials.

Either way, he admitted with a bitter admiration that the plan had worked masterfully.

The air in the Hall of History seemed to be sapped of the weight of so many memories, leaving the vast, echoing room empty and meaningless to Ignis. Even the murals and the flashback to their second to last farewell failed to garner any sort of emotion from him as they passed silently by. He'd mourned Noct since that darkest day of his life in Altissia, even as he battled with his blood and bone against the inevitable. This final day had merely been a blessing—a last chance to say goodbye.

And by the light of the stars shining above their heads, he _still_ felt empty.

Ignis kept his head down as they entered the throne room together, not quite ready to face the sight of Noct's broken body pinned against the throne.

But Gladio's barked question made him look up as they drew closer. "Where'd he go?!"

Ignis rushed to the empty throne, nearly bowling over Prompto in his haste to inspect the area for some sort of sign that his vision had perhaps been averted. He leapt up the stairs three at a time and reached the velvet-cushioned stone at the same time as Gladio from the opposite side, but something died in his chest as he stood straight and rigid, watching Gladio let out a shaky exhale and lean down to run a gloved fingertip along the stained slit in the fabric where King Regis's sword had likely pierced Noct's . . ..

"I thought maybe . . ." Gladio began.

"But then, where is he?" Prompto asked.

"The light . . .," Ignis said, still staring blankly down at that five-centimeter rip that represented the end of it all, "when Lady Lunafreya was killed, she wasn't able to rest with her duty still incomplete. The world may have been purged by the light of Eos, but Noct still has one more task to perform in the Great Beyond."

"Oh, so he really is . . .."

Ignis stood shoulder to shoulder with his two remaining comrades, staring solemnly down at the throne Noct had only ruled from once for a few moments—the shortest yet most profoundly world-changing rule in the history of Eos. But it was Laura's choked whisper echoing across the high-ceilinged room that pulled him back to the present.

"Á na márië, melethronya."

Ignis spun around, fear gripping his chest at her farewell that could only be directed toward him with that term of endearment. She'd promised him his lifetime. Was she truly leaving now that their journey was over? Wallowing in his own swathe of emotions, he hadn't noticed that she had stopped at the base of the stairs where he had first met her all those years ago. To his relief, she wasn't looking up at him, but at a point above their heads. He turned to follow her gaze, his eyes flicking briefly over the dark Crystal hanging chained and dead, but the tears of shimmering gold streaking down her cheeks as grief and devastation flooded their connection made him turn back toward her instantly.

"Oh," Prompto said as he, too, looked up at the Crystal, "guess it's really gone now."

"Eos gave her last," Gladio said on a heavy sigh. "Helped Noct to save us all."

"Maybe he'll show up one day—fall outta the sky in one of those huge Astral bodies just like one of the gods. Oh wait . . . there _are_ no more gods, are there?"

Ignis didn't pay attention to Gladio's reply, focusing only on his wife still staring up at the Crystal.

"Rose?" he asked softly, stepping to the edge of the dais.

Still somewhat perplexed by the extremity of her reaction to the death they'd been expecting for nearly eleven years now, he made his way down the stairs toward her, caressing their bond until he reached her. To his utter bewilderment, she collapsed into his chest the moment he drew close, sobbing openly as he'd never seen since he'd met her.

 _Rose, please. Tell me what's the matter._

 _I'm sorry,_ she said after several seconds, pulling back and wiping furiously at her eyes. Without meeting his questioning gaze, she turned toward the Crystal. _I didn't mean to cause a distraction._

He shivered a little in acknowledgement of her indirect answer—the sort that was always given carefully and with a purpose.

"So it's really done, then? No more gods or daemons, and the sun's coming back? For real?" Prompto asked in a small voice.

Laura sniffled, wiping at her eyes again with the back of her hand, and Ignis stepped away from her just enough to pull his handkerchief out of his coat pocket and hand it to her.

"Yes. That blast of light cleared the atmosphere and soil, killed the daemons and the infected. The heirs of Eos have passed, and Noct and Luna have taken their places as the Children of the Dawn—Eosphoros and Hesperos, the morning and evening stars."

"The sun and the moon?" Gladio asked. When Laura nodded, he turned to hurry down the steps. "I wanna see it."

Ignis furrowed his brow down at Laura one final time, searching for an explanation as to her behavior, but she kept the wall up between them and refused to meet his eyes. After several moments, he nodded. They would have time to handle whatever had just happened, and it appeared as though Noct had relieved them of their final duty to him. There was nothing left in this room for any of them to mourn or remember, after all.

"Then let us go and watch His Majesty's coronation," he said, gesturing toward the door at the rear of the room.

The three of them followed in silence as Ignis led them through the halls and into another elevator—to the roof of the southeast tower, where they would have an unobstructed view of the sun as it rose. The four of them stood sentinel side by side in silence as time ceased to hold any domain over Ignis's thoughts. Rose's devastation mixed with his own melancholy acceptance to form an appropriate ambiance of mourning as the seconds continued to tick by uncounted, and still they waited.

In his thirty-two years on this eos and his eleven spent traveling time and space, Ignis had seen more sunrises than any other human his age—of colors never seen on this planet, dying suns, newly-birthed suns, four suns that rose simultaneously, suns that rose with neighboring planets reflecting the light from multiple angles, and some that were so far away that he could keep his eyes locked on the burning balls of gas as they peered over the horizon in a blaze of glory.

But never again in his life would he see a more stunning sunrise than this.

It was like a symphony—beginning small and unassuming as the sky slowly lightened and crescendoing into a triumphant chorus of victory just for them—as though Noct were infusing everything he had wanted to say last night into a dizzying display of color and light. The very edge of the sherbet-orange sun broke through the line of the horizon and lit the sky on fire, sending out streaks of golden rays like a crown that stretched forever into the endless, dazzling sky—a shifting gradient from molten gold to orange to pink to cerulean, and he found himself wanting to leap off the roof of the building and take flight, to bathe in that sea of color and revel in the joy Noct had died to give them all.

"Fucking showoff," Gladio muttered under his breath, rubbing at his eyes.

Prompto let out a watery chuckle. "Yeah. Beautiful though, seeing the sky clear of the Wall for the first time."

"I suppose we now live in a world where such a thing is no longer necessary," Ignis said. It occurred to him that Noct had bought them that freedom, as well.

It had only been a couple of years since they'd last seen the sun, but Ignis didn't believe he had ever in his life seen it at its full strength, with the atmosphere completely free of every particle of scourge. As its corona pulled free from the horizon and brightened, he found that he had to tear his eyes away from the spectacle.

Laura stepped closer to the edge of the tower, looking out over the city. "The sun brings life, light, and time," she said softly. "Look."

Prompto fell against the handrails in his haste to look down as Gladio and Ignis stepped up beside them. "The trees!" Prompto exclaimed. "Everything's green again!"

Ignis's eyes widened as he looked out over the derelict city—dread at the thought of the seemingly insurmountable task that lay before them threatening to overwhelm him for a moment, but he chose to shift his attention to the medians and parks surrounding the Citadel. What had only a few hours ago been troughs of overgrown and desiccated grasses and underbrush were now thick and lush once more—their tender green leaves appearing delicate in such a way that reflected the hesitant hope beginning to blossom in his chest that everything would indeed be all right.

"I know this sounds kinda lame with all the bedrooms in this place," Prompto said, biting his lip as he turned to look shiftily at the three of them, "but . . . you think we can all sleep together today?"

"I'd like that," Laura said softly, stepping closer to Ignis's side and grasping his hand between both hers. He squeezed it in return before looking toward the sun one more time.

Words didn't need to be exchanged as the four of them shared a glance before turning to their blazing king and bowing long and low in deference to his sacrifice.

"Thank you . . . Majesty," Ignis murmured.

Though he would never, ever take a second of the sun's light for granted for as long as he lived, Ignis turned his back on Noct's first day as King and led their retinue inside for their well-deserved rest. As they stepped into the elevator, a flicker of an idea flashed between him and Laura; Ignis couldn't tell from whose side it had originated, but his hand shot out immediately at the suggestion to press the button that would take them to the correct floor.

"This way," he said, his feet leading them automatically down a brightly-lit hall and toward a sun-drenched courtyard.

The palace gardens were hardly the most ideal place for sleeping, especially flooded with warm yellow light as they were, but the location seemed appropriate, given their circumstances. With quiet, reverent steps, he led them past the stone courtyard and its still and silent fountain, along the overgrown winding garden path lined with a riot of colorful flower beds, and toward the far rear corner, where his little red Kettieran maple bonsai grew in the shade of several oaks.

 _Your bonsai,_ Laura said in a faraway tone, reaching out to touch the leaves and bending to inhale their scent. _Your very first telepathic creation._

 _An artistic interpretation, at least._ "Is here all right with everyone?" he asked when they'd reached the base of the tree. "Sleeping in the dark seemed . . . inappropriate today."

Prompto bounced experimentally in the plush grass and nodded. "No, this is totally perfect."

"Here seems good," Gladio said, collapsing on the ground in a heap before stretching out.

"I can still summon the bedrolls, if you prefer," Laura said as she stood over him. "From the feel of it, I still have access to the entire armiger."

"Do you?" Gladio asked in surprise. "I mean, I'm good right here, but I wasn't expecting that."

Prompto sat down cross-legged next to Gladio and held out a hand. With a flash of phosphorescence, his quicksilver appeared briefly in his palm before he flicked it away again. "Wow, so we still have magic."

"You'll probably lose access to the general section of the armiger when we separate, just as before," Laura said as she sat down next to Prompto and looked up at Ignis. _Wait._ "So I recommend you take out what you want before then."

She summoned his favorite monstrous-looking blanket, and Ignis bent to help her spread it out over the grass before removing his coat, gloves, and visor and settling down beside her.

"More than we coulda hoped for," Gladio grunted, his eyes falling closed.

Prompto laid back in the grass with his hands behind his head. "Yeah. Thanks, Noct."

Ignis had long grown accustomed to being minimally demonstrative with Laura when the four or five of them would sleep together. He would typically lay on his side and reach a single hand out to rest comfortably in the dip above her waist, which was affection enough, he believed, in the midst of company. He was therefore somewhat startled when he lay back and she immediately snuggled into his chest, burying her nose at the base of his throat and running a hand rhythmically across his ribs as she only did when they were alone together.

 _It's all right,_ he said soothingly, grazing his fingertips over the nape of her neck as he held her. _I'm here._

"So," Gladio muttered, "what do we do now?"

Damp was seeping through his Glaive shirt to his chest, and he pulled her closer, rocking her a little in comfort. _I can't bear the sight of your tears when there's nothing I can do for them._ "Where we go from here is a simple matter," he added to Gladio. "We rebuild in His Majesty's honor. What form that takes, according to Noct's final wishes, is entirely up to you."

"A Shield was never meant to outlive his king. Dunno what I'm gonna do now," Gladio answered. "But . . . I guess, depending on what you do . . . I could be yours, if you'll have me."

Ignis opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then closed it again, at a loss for words. After several moments of stillness, he managed, "I would be honored, but . . . we have much to reassess. We are placed in the unique position to shake free of the burdens of servitude our forebears have bequeathed to us for the first time since Lucis's founding."

"What about you and Lucis and Tenebrae?" Prompto asked.

Ignis closed his eyes, not quite ready to face all that lay before him in the coming days—his mother, his dead father, his dead brother, and the mantle of rebuilding two countries as the remaining population grieved for those suddenly killed in this most recent purge. How many remained in his care now?

No, he couldn't think about it—not until he'd had a decent night's rest and a hearty meal, at the very least.

 _You know,_ Laura began, pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat as she so often did just before they fell asleep together, but he could still feel her tears seeping through his shirt to his chest, _the human race would still survive if we just ran away._

 _What?_

 _If we ran away right now, set ourselves up in a shack on a beach or deep in a forest somewhere, the human race would go on._

He let his mind go still, not daring to contemplate such a tempting offer.

 _It didn't even occur to you, did it?_ she asked. _You're just too good._

 _I want . . .,_ but he couldn't put the concepts together with his sleep-addled thoughts.

 _Speak from your heart, love. Say the things that you know to be true._

 _I . . . could never live with myself if I abandoned everything when I was needed. And yet . . ._

And yet he longed for his freedom more than anything else in this world. He wanted to explore, to learn all his home world had to offer, to live the life he led in his dreams here on his own planet without the burden of guilt that he was breaking his word and neglecting his liege's kingdom. He wanted so much—he wanted it _all_.

 _We'll find some way to make it work,_ Laura said, breathing in his scent, which couldn't have been terribly pleasant, as hard as they'd fought these past two days. Even _her_ hair reeked of dust and daemon, so he could hardly imagine what his human sweat smelled like. _I promised to deliver you the best of both worlds, after all._

Ignis realized that he'd not yet answered Prompto's question. He raised his eyes to the canopy of trees hovering above their heads, quivering in the gentle breeze and dappling the sunlight streaming through the cracked and shattered windows.

"Let us just take each day as it comes for now, shall we?"


	104. Chapter 104

**Author's Note:**

Warning: angst and character death. I don't recommend listening to Vale Decem by Murray Gold for this chapter, or Miserere mei, Deus by Gregorio Allegri.

* * *

Ignis's breath caught on a hitch—his lungs laboring to pull in a full inhalation and dragging him to full consciousness away from a particularly pleasant sunbath on the lavender shores of Plavidia. He didn't open his eyes—sure in the knowledge that he would find himself lying in that same four-poster bed with the same wispy, billowing white canopy draping its way down the dark wood and gilded flourishes to flutter in the gentle breeze from the window Laura always left open for him. He'd always been fond of their room at the very top of Fenestala Manor, with its view of verdant fields dropping off sheer rocky cliffs on a clear day or the puffy tops of the clouds on others, but as his physical body hadn't been fit to leave their bed in several months, he found he much rather preferred chasing after adventures in his dreams to the monotony of the reality that was agedness.

He could feel the mattress shift as he parted his lips to suck in another raspy lungful of air, but it wasn't her presence that forced his eyes open wide; it was the flavor of wild, fresh wind on his tongue—sweet grass, sweeter flowers, and . . . chocobo.

His only thought as he attempted to sit up straighter on the pile of pillows carefully arranged against the heavy wooden headboard so he could see more of the scene was that Laura must have pulled him into another daydream.

Though the sun itself had dipped below the horizon for the evening, its corona still shone with streaks of golden amber light, setting the mountains in the distance in hazy shadows of slate blue and reflecting off the clouds in coral and silver. The warm, gentle breeze swept through the endless field of sylleblossoms blooming in indigo, cobalt, and azure from the foothills in the distance across the vale, ruffling the feathers of the herd of black-and-white-splotched chocobos off to his left, grazing for insects as cows would on sweet summer grass. Ignis felt something light brush against his neck, and he looked down to pull away a vibrant scarlet Kettieran maple leaf that had torn itself free in the wind—still dew-laden from the last rainfall. He took a deep breath of warm, wet soil as he raised his eyes to the branches swaying gently above his head, letting the sheer intensity of the colors wash over him as he remembered the day Laura had planted the little seedling taken from the Citadel's gardens.

Of course, Laura would know that today was no ordinary day and would choose a scene appropriate to fit the occasion. Immortals and their dramatics. Some things truly would never change.

But it troubled him that he couldn't tell for himself whether he were dreaming. He took in another wheezing breath and whispered with all his strength, "Is this real?"

"Yes," came her soft voice tucked beneath his right arm.

It distressed him to think of how she might have managed to pull this off. Had she had the servants go through the spectacle of carrying him out here as he slept? How many of his people had seen him in such a state? It seemed that despite his best efforts to maintain decorum and privacy, aging always came with it a profound loss of dignity and independence—a final, injurious insult flung at a man as his most precious asset in life failed him.

His attention dropped to his withered hands, and he couldn't help but release the breath he'd worked so hard to take in on a sigh. She used to love his beautiful hands—whether it was the strength in them as they had protected her for the last one hundred and twenty years or the way he would skim the pads of his fingers lightly over her skin to please her. She would bestow her admiration in a particular ritual that he'd always loved—removing his gloves, stroking the veins and tendons in his wrists, and pulling his palms to her warm, wet mouth. Blessed though he was at birth with a longer life than most, he'd been forced to watch as year after year, they'd grown dry and gnarled, then weak. It was a wonder she had remained by his side after what his body had been reduced to after all this time.

 _Stop that,_ she chastised. She reached across his chest and picked up his left hand by the wrist, pressing his palm to her lips and letting her warm breath tickle over his skin. _That's the thing about love. I still find your hands—all of you—just as beautiful as the day I met you._

He supposed she had a point. Even tucked into his side as she was, he could still see with his blurring vision that she had grown even smaller than when he'd met her. She had allowed herself to shrink with age, her hair to turn silver-white and brittle, her skin to sag with experience—but these were far from imperfections in his mind. Ignis saw over forty thousand sunrises he'd rejoiced in written on her body as they'd labored to return order to mankind—stabilizing Lucis's fledgling democracy, re-founding the kingdom of Tenebrae at Fenestala, and traveling the world together as they took stock of their every resource in this rebirthed world—and the effect of her presence was just as breathtaking as the day they'd left Insomnia for the first time together.

But unlike him, her age was an illusion. Her strength, her mind, were as sharp as ever, even as his had faded. Only last week, he'd caught a flash of her reflection in their mirror as she leapt lightly off the top of the stepladder after she'd retrieved a blanket for him from the top shelf of their wardrobe. It pained him immeasurably to think that every year they'd spent together would be erased from her body as though it had never existed as soon as he was gone, but he took some comfort in the fact that she would always bear his mark in her mind, just as she still bore her Doctor's.

"How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?" she asked, looking up at him with dull cobalt eyes. She broke eye contact as she suddenly looked down to pull his glasses from her pocket, and he gratefully took them from her and slid them over his nose. "Is your bad knee bothering you again? I can—"

"I'm _fine_ ," he ground out. "Quit your fussing, woman." It hardly mattered. He'd be dying either way.

As though she had caught the thread of his thoughts, her eyes pulled tight, and a soft shine of what could soon be tears rose and reflected the light from the darkening sky. The sight of it broke him.

"Forgive me. It seems no matter how many years we've had to tame my unruly ways, you always manage to encourage that stubborn streak of insolence to rear its ugly head. You know that I love you with all my heart."

"Of course you do," she said with a slow, glowing smile, leaning up so that her lips lingered just to the right of his. "Quite right, too."

But it would never be enough. He'd had more time with her than even their wildest expectations had accounted for—far more, if one considered that he lived an additional third of his life awake with her in his dreams. He'd mixed a life of fantasy with reality—climbing the diamond cliffs of Terengi XIX mere hours before walking the wild apple orchards of Eusciello and _finally_ tasting for himself the perfect balance of the sweet, tart, firm flesh. He'd taken up Ulwaat berry farming as his official hobby as King of Tenebrae, taking advantage of the sparse population and lighter workload to begin producing his own wine, while Laura had been the one to work with Paul and rediscover the lost arts of Tenebraean cuisine, becoming the first queen in the country's history to also be the royal patissier.

Truly, he'd been fortunate. And yet . . .

 _A part of me always hoped that everything we discovered about my heritage would mean that I was special,_ he said reluctantly. _I had hoped . . . it might mean I was special enough to keep you._

 _Planets come and go. Stars perish,_ she said sadly, looking down at his chest. _Nothing can be eternal, but that doesn't make you any less special in my mind._

 _But you are—extraordinary and eternal._

 _Even my existence will end someday._

And no matter how much they loved one another, it wouldn't end here. She would never join him in the Great Beyond of this universe.

 _Night's falling,_ she said suddenly, rolling onto her back. Her tone was infused with that euphoric sense of adventure that had swept him off his feet just over a hundred and twenty years ago, but he'd known her long enough now to hear the underlying brittleness of it. Should he push her too hard, she would crack beneath the weight of her grief. _Watch the stars with me?_

 _Always._

The mountains had grown black by this point, and Bessie's descendants had likely trotted off with their tottering adolescent chicks toward their barn and evening meal, but the rippling waves of sylleblossoms glowed purple in the silver light reflecting off the moon, lending an ethereal, otherworldly quality to the scene that made him wonder once again whether he were dreaming. He clenched his fists weakly in the white silk sheets beneath him and allowed that endless expanse of velvety sapphire scattered with diamonds to swaddle him like a weary child. All was tranquil. He was at peace here in this place.

"Are you afraid?" Laura asked in a thin and trembling voice.

He shook his head and laid his thoughts bare to her. To live was one of humanity's greatest gifts and adventures—she'd taught him that—so death was merely the next great adventure in his view. His only regret was that this time, he'd be exploring the unknown without her by his side.

 _Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light_ , he quoted thoughtfully. He craned his neck to meet her eyes, wishing he could plunge them both into this moment of peaceful solitude and never let her go. _I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night._

 _Ignis . . ._

But the tone of his name in her mind threatened to break his heart. Like the coward that he was, Ignis broke eye contact and looked up at the sky once again.

 _What do you miss the most about me being young? Answer me honestly._

It took her several beats before she replied, _Your heart and your mind were always beyond your years. I don't believe you've changed at all in that regard, and it was one of the things I always loved most about you._

 _You didn't answer my question. Come now, this is a dying man's request._

Remorse for his careless words constricted around his chest and laboring lungs when he felt her body tighten ever so slightly, but she pretended as though they hadn't affected her and continued on. _Mostly your innocence, though its loss was my own fault. Still, I miss the way you would blush when I said something scandalous, or how you would stumble over your own feet if I sent you something filthy._

He hadn't expected that answer, but as he thought back, he couldn't recall ever having succumbed to her lewd charms in public after he'd nearly fallen out of his chair at a state dinner, with Prime Minister Iris nearly spilling her wine on him from the shock of the commotion.

 _Are you saying I turned into a dirty old man?_ he asked. A chuckle escaped involuntarily from his lips, but his lungs froze at the convulsion. He let his mouth fall open wider to take in air, but his body wouldn't cooperate with his wishes. His eyes bulging, he sat up to release several body-wracking coughs as Laura inserted herself behind him to support his sagging back.

"Shh, just relax and breathe. I've got you," she murmured, pressing a hand to his sternum.

It took several more fits of coughing before he was able to collapse back onto her shoulder with a sigh, his bones aching from the effort and his chest heaving to take in sufficient air.

 _I think it's time to sleep,_ he said, wishing he had the strength left to say it aloud. _One last adventure?_

 _Do you . . . do you have a mood word for this evening?_

Ignis did his best to shift in her arms, twisting so that he could look upon the face of his angel one last time. With a trembling hand, he reached up to graze his fingertip along the wrinkled apple of her cheek—so very beautiful—and she, too, placed an open palm against his jaw and memorized every thread of color in his eyes.

 _Thank you . . . for gracing my life with your lovely presence, for adding the sweet measure of your soul to my existence. Thank you for every kindness. Thank you for being someone I was always proud to be with. For your strength, for your sweetness. For how you always looked, for how I always wanted to touch you. By the light of all the stars in the sky, Rose, you were my life. I apologize for every time I ever failed you, especially this one . . .._

"No, Ignis," she replied on a shaky breath. "Thank _you_. I'll hold you here with me for as long as I live, I swear it with everything I am."

His hand had grown too weak to hold to her face, but the second it had dropped to his chest, he reached out blindly for hers. _Please don't cry. Don't be afraid. I can't bear the thought that my last act on this world is to cause you tears._

 _I'm okay,_ she said bravely.

 _Then take me home, my beloved kithairon._

She leaned down to press her lips to his forehead. _Look at the sky, love._

He did as he was bid, allowing his body to go lax as he nestled into her warm chest. Her fingertips slid up his cheeks and into his hair, resting on his temples.

 _Rose? What are you—_

 _Shh. Listen. You've got all these planets revolving around suns, and all those suns revolving around in a galaxy, and all those galaxies revolving around each other, right?_

 _Yes,_ he replied, following her logic, but his thoughts had grown distracted by a deep rumbling hum in the back of his thoughts—barely audible, but growing fuller as she continued.

 _If you were to take the gravity patterns of all that movement and feed them through, say . . . a TARDIS harmonic filter, that, my most precious Ignis, is the sound of the universe._

If she said anything further, he hadn't heard, for the sound of the universe had grown larger than life in his mind, sweeping him off his bed to dance with the sylleblossoms in the gentle summer breeze before lifting him aloft to take flight into the sunset's fading light. A single voice rose above the gliding strings of planets and suns and nebulae—a pure, angelic descant that resonated the very core of his being—Rose, his Eos.

 _It's so . . . beautiful,_ he gasped, tears streaking down his cheeks to drip onto her arms holding him to her chest. _Have you always heard this?_

 _In every moment,_ she answered, _but you won't be able to bear it for long. Let the music of the spheres sing you to sleep, love, and I'll meet you on the bridge._

He couldn't find the words to respond as he listened to this, the most glorious symphony. It was as though his heart had been set adrift—a ship unmoored and free to sail among the stars. The moment seemed to stretch as he felt her there by his side, showing him every adventure she would have taken him on had they the time—an eternity lived in the span of a single second, but the longer he lingered, the more the thoughts burned golden and molten in his mind. And he understood. This experience was not meant for mortal man.

Just when he felt as though he would burst from the pressure against his temples, his eyes fell closed. He felt her golden thread spread thin to seep into his mindscape before drifting to unconsciousness.

* * *

When Ignis appeared on the golden half of their bridge, the tears might have vanished from his eyes, but his heart was still ringing with the aftershock of awe and grief from his experience. As part of the process of composing himself, he took a moment to walk through the familiar, well-worn steps of recalling the man he'd once been and altering his image to one that better suited his state of mind—taking on a stronger bearing with his spine no longer weak and curved, making adjustments to the changes arthritis had wrought in his knuckles, and smoothing his skin so that he resembled a man of roughly sixty years of age.

He'd found over the years that appearing too young when they met in this world, with Laura always compensating for whichever age he chose, that her youthful appearance would remind him far too much of their future—of this day, in fact, when he would lose her forever and she would return to her natural state. But melancholia was impossible avoid today, so as soon as she appeared on the deep burgundy half of their bridge, her eyes shining cobalt but her hair still a gleaming silver to match his pewter, he held up a hand before she could step on the dividing line.

"Please, if it isn't too much trouble . . .," he began, hoping that she would understand his request and not think him vain, "would you do me the honor of showing me your true self? Appear as you did that day you returned to me in Altissia."

She blinked up at him, her eyes pinching tight, and he inwardly chastised himself for making this more difficult on her than it already was. But before he could take the words back, she had transformed in an instant.

Oh, _stars_ , she was so young again—lustrous black hair and ivory skin glowing subtly blue as though she were standing in the moonlight. Even in her grief—with her long, black lashes laid against her cheek and her pointed ears flicked back in mourning—she was beautiful in a way that made his chest hurt to look at her, but he refused to tear his gaze away.

"So exquisite," he murmured, reaching up to feather his fingers along her jaw and brush a thumb over the starlight dappling her cheeks.

Laura leaned into the touch and reached up to rest her hand against the back of his, but he blinked, and they were transported away. When they reappeared, Ignis was the one holding _her_ this time, their bodies rocking back and forth as his back rested against the wall of shining silver coiled around them, breathing slow and deep.

 _Hello, old friend,_ Ignis greeted, keeping his attention locked on the glittering night sky.

 _Ignis Scientia,_ Eilendil returned, reaching around with his long neck to breathe a hot breath near Ignis's ear. His scales caught the light of the moon shining high over the glassy lake and threw prisms over Therinal's polished balcony.

He sighed deeply and easily, breathing in the fresh scent of the dewy kithairon petalfall brushing over his skin like a lover's caress and holding Laura's starlit body closer to his chest. She'd chosen to appear on the very first day of Arkheincantern, when the male Arkhein would awaken from their deep winter slumber, clear their wooden throats, and practice their songs to coax their mates to join them in the waking world. Mingling with the sweet, clean scent of kithairon, their deep, buzzing tones danced so thickly on the night breeze that Ignis felt as though he were breathing in their song, so reminiscent of the music of his universe, but punctuated by the occasional high, soft sigh of a female as she stirred at her husband's call.

He never had thought to ask about their mating process. How far apart could males and females be and still form a pair? What if a tree didn't care for the others in his vicinity? How did procreation work? Birth? Death? Would an Arkhein mourn for its lost partner as a human would?

Eilendil interrupted his quietly burning thoughts with a chuckle that hitched his and Laura's body back and forth.

 _How I shall miss your strange little mind, Ignis Scientia._

 _As I, you, if my consciousness endures to do so._ He leant forward to press his lips to Laura's hair and added, _Please, don't let her linger on this after I'm gone._

 _The universe must move forward,_ Eilendil replied solemnly. _Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. Whether it is a world or a relationship . . . everything has its time. Everything ends. She knows this better than most._

 _And you know as well as I that she can be a most stubborn creature. I beg of you for this final, most important favor._

 _As you plead, Ignis Scientia, you have a dragon's solemn vow._

 _You have my eternal gratitude._

Because he needed to hear the answer directly from her more than anything, Ignis voiced the topic aloud.

"Do you have any plans for . . . tomorrow?"

Laura turned in his grasp, resting her ear over his heart, and wrapped her arms tightly around his back. "Well," she sighed. "I have business to finish here. I need to make sure parliament can truly handle things without you."

"They haven't sought my expertise for several decades. I'm confident they'll manage."

"And I have to get the Regalia to the museum in Insomnia. Cidney has the yacht waiting in Calcano."

"You could allow someone else to do that—Cidney herself, perhaps," he said reluctantly. Loath though he was to allow anyone but Laura to drive the Regalia, her answers were proving the very behavior he feared.

"After all we went through together? No way. Plus, the old girl deserves one last gallop across Leide."

He spoke the desire so softly that even he almost hadn't heard it. "Would that I were able to join you."

But of course she'd heard his foolishly-voiced wish and sought to grant him his every desire. Her chin came to rest at the very lowest point of his sternum so that she was just able to meet his wistful gaze.

"You still could," she said quietly, reaching up to touch his temple suggestively.

He caught her long fingers and brought them to his lips, kissing each tip slowly and delicately. "No. No false memories. I'm already where I wish to be. But what will you do after that?"

Her brows pulled together. "I thought I might come back here for a while. Spend some time with Therinal."

"You mean to wallow," he said in a voice like stone. Recalling the first time he'd seen her in this body, wild and inhuman and desperate with loneliness, he pleaded, "No, Rose. That would break my heart."

"Well, I'm not going out to have a wild party, if that's what you're suggesting."

Ignis took a moment to wrestle the pain radiating from his chest before he spoke the words that had caused them. "You could . . . go back to searching for the Doctor. It's still possible that a gate to that universe may exist here."

She broke eye contact to press her ear to his heart once more. "Or maybe…," she said in a small voice, "maybe I could go and find you again?"

"What do you mean?"

An image shimmered behind his eyes—one he hadn't seen in a lifetime—the perpetual, undulating motion of twisting red, blue, and gold threads looping in on one another, devouring each other, splitting off, twisting into knots, or curling off into nothingness—all stretching to infinity.

 _It's easy for me to travel to a close parallel once I've landed on a world. I could temporarily forget this life and go back, choose another thread. I may have already done so, for all I know. I won't remember until I leave this universe for good. I could . . . find another version of you—protect you all over again._

His instinctual reaction was a flash of deep hurt and offense, but he immediately reined in the automatic emotion. He hadn't the time for this petty childishness with his life force dwindling like a flame burning away the last of a candlewick. For all that she was his in this moment, she wouldn't be so very soon now. He had merely been gifted with the most honorable privilege of holding her for a time before he had to let her go, and he simply couldn't allow his human selfishness to color her last thoughts of him. Truly, his greatest wish this evening was to know that she would smile again.

He remembered all those other versions of himself, the ones that had tortured her in the mines of Cartanica, the one that she had saved. She may have believed that they could endure without her, but surely, they could use her guidance, her support, the love and adoration she had shown him for nearly all his life.

He couldn't think of a better gift to give himself than to pair his infinite soul with hers across the universes, if she was so inclined.

"Yes. Go back. Choose the me that needs you the most. Choose them all if you like. In a way, I would be favored with your smile again."

"You . . . really mean that?"

"Of course. Take some time first if you wish. You have enough of my brain pattern to recreate me as accurately as the Doctor, do you not?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then feel free to use me for whatever purpose suits you, but I beg of you, do not linger in the dark long. The Goddess of the Dawn must remain in the light," he said softly, running the tips of his fingers around the edge of her ear. She shivered against him as the wind blew another shower of petals across them, but eventually nodded. He brought up the sharpest image he could recall of the blind man he'd met in Cartanica and added, "I think it would benefit you both if you went to him."

"He's different. I would have to remember with him, as our timelines have already crossed. He remembers me."

"All right then," he let out on a sigh, but he tried his best not to let his relief show at the prospect of her _not_ immediately forgetting every beautiful moment they'd spent together, even if his erasure would only be temporary.

"He may not want me like you did. You're different people, shaped by different experiences."

"Well, I find _that_ difficult to believe," he said good-naturedly, but he softened to a gentler tone as he continued, "but if it's true, then be his friend. Be his lover. Whatever the two of you wish, you have my blessing."

"I don't really want to talk about this."

Truth be told, he wasn't exactly thrilled to spend his last minutes cajoling his most beloved wife into the arms of another man, but it was vital to him that she understood where he stood on the matter before it was too late.

"I'm afraid my time has run out to put it off."

Her body strained against his arms as she inhaled deeply and let it out on a sigh. "As much as I would have liked this to be a quiet moment, it's time for me to tell you something, too."

"What could you have possibly kept from me until now?"

She planted her chin on the arm lying across his middle to look up at him again. "You have one final duty left to perform, for Noct."

He let his eyes widen at her words. Though he'd spared a thought for Noct with every sunrise, even after all this time, Ignis hadn't considered those youthful days of servitude in such a very long time indeed.

"Oh?"

She nodded. "Noct needs you to stand by him one last time—along with the others. They've been waiting for you."

Gladio, Prompto, . . . Noct. They had all been gone for so many years now, but that enduring bond of brotherhood still tugged at his chest as though they'd only just left Insomnia in that Regalia yesterday. What would it be like to see them again after all this time?

But for as much as the idea of a reunion after death brought him a small measure of comfort, it wasn't what was most important right now. He could feel each second of his life as a grain of sand slipping away on her time sense. Even in this moment, he watched as her image darkened and faded a shade, and right now, all that mattered was her.

Ignis had died more than his fair share in his lifetime, but now that he was facing the final experience, he hadn't expected to feel this blanket of calm satisfaction as he lay there against the belly of a dragon, letting his fingers slip through Laura's long, glossy black hair and watching her skin sparkle in swirling patterns of stars in the moonlight. Love and warmth unfurled wordlessly between them, and he finally felt complete. He truly had lived quite a life with her by his side. How many humans in existence could claim even a tenth of the blessings he had?

He felt ready. If only he didn't have to leave her behind.

Something inside him broke, as though he'd been shaken free of a weight holding him fast to the ground for the first time in a lifetime. Laura stiffened the moment she felt his chest go still, her eyes growing wide and glassy, but she didn't break eye contact. Ignis sucked in a breath as he felt himself begin to drift, but their bridge stretched tight to ground him here in this place.

"You're holding me here, aren't you?" he gasped, fumbling for both her hands and clutching them tightly to his chest.

He felt her golden thread entwine around what was left of his existence and constrict. "For as long as I can," she breathed.

For all that he wished he could live another eternity in this moment, doubtless her body left back in their bed with his corpse had already begun to gasp for breath as she had all those years ago in Cartanica. Confliction seized him as he thought to himself, _Let me go. Hold me here with you forever._

"One more second," she whispered before leaning up to take his lips fiercely in hers.

She pulled back just enough to stare directly into his eyes. "Ignis," she whispered. "I will _always_ love you."

Ignis trailed his fingers across her cheekbone, still clutching her hand with his other. "My dearest Rose, as I will always love you."

He fought the instinct to close his eyes as his sight grew darker, forcing his lids to remain open until her image faded away into the black of the unknown.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Ignis's thank you speech was taken from What Dreams May Come by Richard Matheson, though I have always adored the film adaptation starring Robin Williams. It's a stunningly beautiful and heartbreaking movie.

A lot of the language for the sound of the universe was taken from Music of the Spheres, a Doctor Who mini-episode played at the Doctor Who Prom in 2008. The universe must move forward quote is also taken from Doctor Who.


	105. Chapter 105

It turned out that death was much like falling asleep without the aid of dreams or a telepathic connection to pull him elsewhere—a timeless, lightless chasm in Ignis's memory where he couldn't recall even the slightest stirring of a thought or sense of existence. When his awareness was restored to being once again, he was somewhat surprised to find that with the experience behind him, his state of non-existence had been far from terrifying as his intuitive sense had suggested all his life. Death was much like the period of time before he'd been born—an abyss of black nothingness, but hardly anything to fear.

However, he wondered how many had ever been pulled back together _after_ death—their soul reconstituted so that they had the ability contemplate the experience. In his mind, existing again was far more disorienting that dying in the first place, as his body, or whatever he was using to sense this new world, was still thrumming with the agony of saying goodbye to Rose, now compounded with the more physical sensation of pain from a broken bond.

Ignis blinked a few times in an attempt to focus on his surroundings, which appeared to be an endless sea of swirls of blue and purple light, reminiscent of the coiling tendrils the Crystal had radiated when they had first encountered it in Gralea. His attention finally settling on the void between his feet, he surmised that he must be in the Crystal space, as Rose had once described it similarly.

He considered carefully the heavy metal straps buckled across his black Glaive boots. Well-accustomed as he was to existing in a state beyond the physical, the fact that he had a body in this place didn't trouble him in the slightest, but its appearance was somewhat perplexing. He didn't recall making the choice to appear _so_ young—almost younger than he could remember being—and he certainly didn't recall the details on his formal Kingsglaive uniform well enough to recreate them this precisely. Yet the intricate silver embroidery on his cuffs seemed accurate, the stitching on his gloves as he remembered, and even the silver Bahamutian buttons on the coat he hadn't seen in a lifetime seemed familiar.

"Hey buddy," came a hushed whisper to his left. Ignis whipped his head up to the source, somehow successfully managing to conceal his joy at finding himself in familiar company. "Bout time you got here. Thought you really were gonna live forever."

"Pfft, please," Gladio snorted from Prompto's other side. "We've been waiting—two minutes? Haven't even had the chance to stop finding it hilarious you've got hair again."

"Hey!"

"It's good to have you back, Specs," Noct said wearily, not turning back to look at him from his position a half a step in front of them all. He nodded forward, and Ignis followed his gesture to watch Ardyn floating down from above, Starscourge dripping from his face just as it had in Ignis's vision.

And Ignis understood now what his final duty was to entail. After _just_ having lost his wife, he was to stand idly by and watch as Noct died for their pasts—again. He stood straighter in an effort to call upon the persona of the soldier he'd once been such a very long time ago, but stars, he was still raw and shaking inside as he stepped forward to take his place just behind Noct's right shoulder.

"You can always count on me to be your right-hand man," Ignis replied, and the quirk of Noct's lips was enough to let him know that he hadn't completely lost his touch. "And I should like to say that it has been my greatest honor to fight alongside you all, my brothers."

"You all have done well," said a grave, regal-sounding voice to his right, and Ignis broke his attention from Ardyn just long enough to register King Regis standing beside him, the black cape of his royal raiment fluttering inexplicably in this breezeless place.

But the four of them hadn't the time to ask questions of those who had come before them, as usual. Ignis suppressed the chuckle he wanted to release at the thought that the afterlife wasn't dissimilar to life itself, after all. Ardyn had just reached their level and was dipping into a dramatic, sweeping bow as though receiving a standing ovation for his performance. The mocking smile lingered on his lips despite his cool reception, but as he straightened, his eyes widened the smallest fraction at what had been, up until a moment ago, the empty space between Ignis and King Regis.

Ignis summoned every iota of strength to keep from moving. He didn't allow so much as an eye to twitch as his mind flooded with light, washing out the black and bloody hole that had been pulsing pain in the back of his head since he'd arrived here.

 _Rose!_ he choked, his mind racing to embrace hers, to share every moment of the last few minutes or lifetimes he'd experienced without her, and to express his shock that she had found a way to join him. But she seemed to stiffen at his mental touch, holding herself oddly distant from their connection.

 _Ignis. Hello, love._

Yes, she was quite right to maintain formality. They had a duty to perform, after all, and apparently his recent death and bond-severing were affecting his faculties more than he cared to acknowledge. Besides, they could speak forever on what she'd been doing and how she'd arrived here after their obligations were completed.

Noct raised a hand toward Ardyn, his fingers spread wide, but to Ignis's surprise, Ardyn mirrored Noct's position threateningly, as though he intended to infect them. Ignis had believed Ardyn to have mostly surrendered all those years ago when the dawn had returned, so why the change of heart? Was it even possible for them to lose at this point when Ignis, Laura, Gladio, and Prompto had already lived out their lives in the light?

Just as Ardyn's finger's twitched, a shimmering golden light fluttered near his hand, growing larger and humanoid in shape until Lady Lunafreya became recognizable in the angelic halo of glitter. Her long white dress fluttered in that unfelt breeze as she took a step forward to place both her golden hands on either side of his outstretched arm. Ardyn snatched it away, drawing his fist back to slap her, but she had already disappeared in a shower of sparkles that began to crawl up the arm she'd managed to make contact with.

"Rrrg," Ardyn grunted, his voice low and monstrous, sounding too close to Ignis's ears as though he were underwater. Ardyn staggered several steps back, hunching over as Princess Lunafreya's healing light raced up his arm like a poison.

Noct turned his head ever so slightly, as though he were checking to see if his supporters were still behind him.

"Noct," Ignis said softly—just to let him know that they had his back, whatever was needed.

"Was it a good life?" Noct asked quietly, still holding his hand out to a thrashing, heaving Ardyn.

"Extraordinary."

Noct readjusted so that he was facing Ardyn head-on.

"Good," he said roughly—before the air between his fingers ripped open in an explosion of light.

And despite the fine layer of ash that had formed on Noct's hands and arms, despite the glowing orange cracks erupting through his skin, Ignis stood firm by Noct's side as the vision that had plagued him since he was a young man finally came to pass. Noct growled through gritted teeth as each weapon of light they'd collected on their journey pierced through his back, but as they wrenched themselves free to fly high above them, he threw his head back and loosed a scream of agony.

Ignis wasn't terribly surprised to find King Regis missing from his side when he looked behind them and watched the thirteen Lucii take up their weapons and charge forward at Noct's command, but his eyes widened in awe when the blue-white light shining down on them increased a hundredfold—splitting from the thirteen to one hundred and thirteen . . . and growing as the golden silhouettes of every Fleuret from Aera to Lunafreya joined in the battle charge toward Ardyn.

Had his mind truly been the age of his body, Ignis might have experienced that high of triumphant victory at watching Ardyn fall apart in a flash of silver light and a shower of phosphorescent dismissing petals at last, but as he let out the breath he'd been holding, he couldn't help but feel his tension ease. Even as his heart broke all over again at finally bearing witness to his brother's death as he'd been denied all those years ago, Ignis shared in the final sentiments of his king, whose last words were not an expression of regret but relief.

"It's finally over," Noct sighed before collapsing into ash and light, as though he'd released a breath that had been held for far too long.

The resulting stillness thundered in Ignis's ears as he kept his eyes locked on the spot where Noct had made his final sacrifice. He'd expected events to unfold as they had, but now what? Was Noct denied an afterlife in addition to the life he'd already relinquished? Were the four of them to remain here in this undulating aurora for eternity?

"Welp," Prompto sighed, his face scrunching in consternation as he ran a hand through his thick bangs. "Guess it's time to be movin' on. Meet you guys in the throne room for the big thing?"

"I beg your pardon?" Ignis asked.

"He wasn't there for that part, fool," Gladio scoffed, reaching out to playfully shove at Prompto's shoulder.

"Oh yeah. Still feelin' kinda weird, you know? I haven't died since my twenties, and it's the first time it's been permanent."

"Yeah, but you've always been weird, so don't go blamin' it on death. Remember your wedding? Two things: you had to show up with a ring and a tux, and you forgot the damn ring."

"Ha! Yeah, but at least I remembered the camera! Memories are important, ya know?" he laughed, but his face fell as he looked down at the fathomless abyss beneath his unsupported feet. "Delilah wanted to murder me."

"Can't say I blame her."

"Yeah, well, it's too late now. Already dead, dude! Hey, how'd you die, anyway?"

"It was peaceful. Aranea was already gone, but Lethia and Iris were there. Seventy-nine. Hot damn, but it's good to be young again."

"Seventy-nine, not bad! Way better than my crappy genetics, right Laura?"

Ignis stepped closer to Laura's side, eyeing the other two as they smiled and bantered as though they hadn't just witnessed the painful, violent death of their king and comrade. Judging by the expression of shock and horror frozen on her face as she stared down at the point where Ardyn had disappeared, his grief wasn't entirely out of place.

"If either of you wouldn't mind filling us in . . .," Ignis said, putting no small amount of effort to keep his voice smooth despite his bite of irritation.

"Oh hey," Gladio said, looking in their direction, "what about you, Ig? We really _were_ thinkin' you were gonna live forever there."

Ignis was about to inform Gladio that they could discuss this morbid topic once the matter of what they were supposed to do now was settled, but Laura's choked-off whisper stilled the three of them.

"Stop. Stop it, all of you. Don't say another word."

 _Rose? What is it? Does it cause you great pain to be here?_

But that couldn't be right. The Crystal and the energy of this world hadn't burned her since the day Noct and the Crystal had pressed against the barrier between them to soothe that sense of muted devastation he could feel from her, but the wall remained firm as she raised her eyes to each of them.

A shimmering golden tear slid silently down her cheek, and the breath was knocked out of Ignis's lungs as realization dawned on him. She had appeared here in this vision— _out of her time_ —those golden tears the manifestation of time travel just as they had been the day the light had returned.

"I can't stay," she confirmed in a strained murmur. "It's getting harder to remain in this place as the last of the Crystal fades away."

"Wait, what?" Prompto asked, his smile fading at the sight of her tears. "You're not coming with us?"

Ignis resisted the urge to pull her back to him as she stepped away to fling her arms around Prompto's neck, but as Prompto hesitantly brought his hands around her back, his pained eyes flicked up to meet Ignis's matching gaze over her shoulder.

"I love you, Prom," she said as she pulled away, pressing her lips fiercely to his cheek.

"I don't—Iggy?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Turning to Gladio with her arms outstretched, she rushed into his arms. "I don't have a lot of time."

Gladio didn't hesitate as he wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her off her feet in a crushing hug. "You take care of yourself, you hear? Love you, Princess."

Ignis still hadn't worked out what he was going to say, but a quick kiss shared between Laura and Gladio found her standing suddenly in front of him, her lower lip trembling as she attempted to stem her tears.

"Ignis."

"When is it for you?" he blurted out.

Her mouth fell open a little at his unexpected query, but she answered, "I'm in the throne room with the three of you right now."

"Oh," he said dumbly.

He could see it in her eyes, now that he knew what he was looking at. In the span of minutes on either side of his life and death, they had transformed. Where she had once held the expression of a woman that had shared one hundred and twenty years of experience with him, she now appeared as a woman who clearly loved him fiercely but lacked that depth of intimate knowledge gathered over a lifetime. Even the rigid wall of bond between them felt incomplete in an indefinable way. For the first time in his existence, Ignis was ahead of her, older than her—in a sense. She still had a journey left to complete with him by her side, and _oh_ , what adventures were to come for the both of them.

They had yet to sit beside each other for Gladio's and Prompto's weddings; become godparents to little Lethia, Gaius, and Pax; lead the first envoy to Accordo to greet the Madame First Secretary Claustra and the remaining survivors in Altissia; take the very first steps on Terraverde as they reclaimed the lands of Tenebrae and Niflheim for human settlement once again. She hadn't made him soup or sat by his bedside to read to him when he'd been ill for two weeks with the Vogliupean flu. Nor had she stubbornly refused to heal his injured back the time he'd overworked himself while restoring Fenestala, instead insisting that his body was ordering him to rest. She hadn't helped him spread his mother's and father's ashes over the Étoile ancestral lands on the very edge of the forest, where he had been told his grandfather had taken his father to pick berries. Ignis hadn't yet gifted her with the tiny stone cottage he'd built with his own two hands, hidden away deep among the shady boughs of the Forest of Memories.

And to think that she had been carrying this moment held secret in her heart through every fleeting impression of the last century. How could it have not colored their entire lives together?

"You said your farewell to me all those years ago," he realized softly, taking off his gloves to wipe a stray tear from her eye.

"So it would seem," she said levelly, but the end of her words was cut off on a whimper.

"Shh," he soothed, bringing his other hand up to her cheek to run his thumbs over the spots of color growing brighter as she grew more and more upset. Though he, too, felt the burn rising in his eyes, he felt responsible for summoning the strength to deliver her words of comfort that would shape their future together. "Don't cry, love. You have so many beautiful years of life ahead of us. I never regretted a single moment of our time together, except perhaps the moment I had to leave you. And when we part and sorrow can't be swayed, I need you to be strong and remember, for the both of us."

"Ignis," she sobbed, leaning forward to press her forehead into his chest, but he stalled her movement as he ran a thumb down the line of her jaw and lifted her face to his.

"Rose Tyler."

He surged forward for one last taste of her—salty with tears, but so very Rose, and he lingered there on her lips as he burned every thought and sensation of this moment to take with him for the rest of eternity.

"Laurelín," he exhaled when they parted, "á na márië, melethrilnya." He shivered a little as she ran her hands down the length of his chest, her fingers catching on the silver detailing of his Glaive coat. "Tye méla oialë."

"A Ithīr, inye tye méla oialë." Her shimmering eyes seemed to grow more translucent, and it took him a moment to realize with the slightest stirring of panic that she was fading away. His fingers squeezed more tightly around her shoulders, but they clenched into fists as she lost her hold on solid form.

"Á na márië, melethronya," she finished, her parting words diminishing to a whisper on the air.

It grew still again as Ignis stared at the spot she had disappeared, not bothering to hold back the tears spilling over his eyelids to drip down his cheeks. There was something about this second parting even crueler than the first that he couldn't guard against, and that was hope. For just a few moments, he'd believed that she'd found some way to circumvent their separation, but precious though he was to her, she couldn't rewrite the laws of the universe even for his sake. A part of him felt tricked for having been able to see her here in this place of eternity for only a finite period of time. The peaceful farewell they'd shared at his death had now been shaded darker with this new, more dishonest experience.

Sometimes, he truly hated the workings of the universe.

Ignis barely registered the presence of the other two stepping close to place their hands on his shoulder until he had taken a deep, cleansing breath, intent to move on. Laura had warned him all those years ago that she would not join him in whatever afterlife this world may have. While his identity as Rose's husband didn't encompass all he was, he still felt as though an enormous piece of his soul had been stripped away along with her, and now the time had come to see for himself the shape of things to come.

"You gonna be okay, man?" Gladio asked, the corners of his eyes pulling tight as he looked down at him.

He chose not to answer the question directly but to speak the truth. "Whatever the consequences, she was worth it," he let out on a sigh.

Truly, the best thing for him right now would be work, something to do. He wasn't used to the idea of not having _something_ ahead in his future that needed attending to, but as he turned to look first at Prompto, then at Gladio, he realized he'd been left out of what sounded like important information.

"What now?"

Prompto's eyes widened as he grabbed Ignis's elbow and hopped up and down on his toes, likely an attempt at distracting him from his grief. "Oh yeah! We gotta get going!"

"Can't be late to the event that started this whole thing off," Gladio said, still scrutinizing Ignis's expression shrewdly.

"Close your eyes," Prompto said, "and think of the throne room. We're s'posed to meet Noct there!"

They were to see Noct again? That he hadn't died a permanent death, if it was even possible to exist beyond death in the first place, explained Gladio and Prompto's nonchalant reaction at watching Noct fall apart, at least. But true understanding could come at another time. Ignis closed his eyes, doing his best to use all the memory techniques Laura had taught him to clearly picture the audience chamber he had not stepped foot in for well over a century.

As though he were leaping onto a Solheimian interdimensional gate, something hooked behind Ignis's chest and pulled him to the left—away from the last place he would ever see his wife again.

* * *

A royal blue sylleblossom petal brushed across his sleeve and spiraled to the floor, reminding Ignis both of his last moments among the restless waves of blooms in Tenebrae and of the forest of kithairon that he would never see or smell again. He shoved the memories to the side for now, as this was to be a time of celebration, not mourning. Narrowing his eyes through the curtain of petals falling from the ceiling like rain, he thought he had never seen the throne room appear so bright or beautiful. For reasons he couldn't fathom, the window that had been smashed during the invasion had remained so in the afterlife. But rather than detracting from the effervescent gaiety hanging thick in the atmosphere, it contributed, reminding them of all they had endured and yet casting thick streams of sparkling sunlight over the drapes of white tulle and drifts of flower petals lining the crimson velvet runners.

"Can't believe he could barely tie his own shoes before, and look at him now, tying the knot," Gladio said with a sniffle.

"I've always believed him capable of becoming a magnificent king, you know," Ignis replied, keeping his eyes locked on Noct and Lunafreya sitting regally on the two thrones at the top of the stairs—smiling and healthy and whole and _oh_ , it made so many of the darkest moments of their journey seem worth it just to be here for this moment. He looked every part the King in his father's royal raiment with Lunafreya by his side, a vision in sparkling white. "And I'm glad to see I was right," he added.

"It's what we set out to do from the very beginning, and look at us all here now," Prompto said as he wiped furiously at his eyes, but Gladio elbowed him and flashed Ignis a grave look he didn't miss.

Gladio may not have spoken the words aloud, but Ignis still heard them over the chorus of clarion bells singing their epithalamion for Noct and Lunafreya's nuptials. 'Not all of us.'

"Oh," Prompto said in a smaller voice. "Yeah. Guess this means our journey together's finally come to an end, huh?"

"You not planning on visiting us?" Gladio asked. "I was gonna invite you guys and Noct and the families down to Galdin for a picnic on the beach or somethin' later."

"Caem," Ignis said.

"Huh?"

"Caem would be more appropriate, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess the little snot likes that place," Gladio said with a grin. As Noct pulled off a glove to caress Lunafreya's cheek and leaned in for a passionate kiss Ignis had to admit he hadn't thought him capable of, Gladio let out a little chuckle. "We should leave these two lovebirds alone for a while. I got some family to track down. See you guys later in Caem?"

"Yeah, I got Delilah and the kids I gotta find. How do we know when to meet?" Prompto asked.

"I imagine travel here to be like everything else in this realm," Ignis answered, as he seemed to be the foremost expert on time and travel in a place created by thought. He recalled with a stab of pain to his heart every evening he'd already spent in paradise as he explained, "Time holds no bearing here; it's all in your mind. All you have to do is close your eyes."

"Oh!" Prompto said, complying immediately. Just before he faded away, he exclaimed, "Cool!"

Ignis cast a glance up to the happy couple again, shoving aside another wave of heartbreak. He would certainly need to leave soon and tend to his own wounds in private for a time before seeking out his family. These reunions and weddings and rekindlings of long-lost loves were supposed to be happy moments for all, and he would certainly cast a pall on the joy for some time. He would retreat for now, perhaps go to gather himself and make a plan at the chalet overlooking the Sathersea on the shores of Pagla before searching for his parents and joining the others in Caem.

As he watched Noct and Luna curl around one other and close their eyes, Ignis realized that even after death, Rose was proving herself right. He recalled those words she'd flung at him during one of his fits of obstinance at saving Noct from his fate, 'Living isn't always a gift,' and they had proven true. He had dismissed her words at the time for fear of their implications—that it would mean giving up on the idea of averting his vision. But seeing Noct shining with joy and looking forward to a long, unburdened rest, he understood now that it would have been cruel and selfish to keep him bound to the mortal world, separated from his love and shackled into rebuilding a shattered kingdom when he hadn't even wished to become King in the first place.

"You gonna be all right?" Gladio asked, interrupting his thoughts by stepping into his field of view with a knowing look.

"Of course. I am _always_ all right."

He wasn't certain why he had tried that tactic, as it never seemed to work with Rose when she used it on those who knew her well. When Gladio refused to concede their staring contest, Ignis sighed tiredly. He'd expected the afterlife to be less . . . wearisome than the first, for certain.

"I need some time," he admitted reluctantly. "Life needs purpose, and I need a plan."

"I getcha." He took a step back. "Come and find me if you wanna talk."

"I will," Ignis said, and Gladio tossed him a thumbs up before he closed his eyes and disappeared.

Relatively alone at last, Ignis turned to the sleeping pair on their thrones, crossed a fist over his chest, and bowed low.

"Majesties."

 _Thank you_ , Noct's voice whispered in his head.

There would be plenty of time for words later—an eternity, in fact. It was high time Ignis found rest himself. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall with his every sense the arid, mountainous region of Pagla, with its crescent moon shaped peninsula and its rocky, sandy shores leading into the sapphire blue water. The ancient, whitewashed boards of the chalet he and Laura had visited every summer before he'd grown too weak to travel were somewhat difficult to recall in exact clarity, but as he thought back to all the hot summer nights he had spent eating naught but shellfish for days on end and worshipping his wife, that wall of towering windows overlooking the shore seemed to focus in his mind's eye. The squashy brown chaise where he and Laura would share breakfast and watch the sun rise became crystal clear.

But just as he was about to transport himself away, an impossible voice interrupted his concentration, freezing him on the spot.

"Hello, Ignis."

Was it possible for one to go mad with grief in paradise? He daren't hope that he had recreated her as she was capable of doing, as he'd already learned the hard way that he was, in fact, only a human. He kept his eyes closed, pretending for just a moment that she was truly standing behind him, a mischievous smirk spreading across her features at having sneaked in to yet another place she didn't belong. The illusion became far too realistic, as he swore he could feel the faintest spark in the back of his mind, and he shoved it further away. It would not do to wallow in self-indulgent fantasies any more than it would for Rose to do so out in the real world.

Though his mental hallucination had been banished from his presence, the physical still plagued him as he stood frozen with his eyes shut tight against it.

"Ignis? Do you want me to go?" came the plaintive, hesitant voice from near his shoulder.

No. Yes. He couldn't decide.

But he reached the conclusion that it was best to cut off this reverie before it became an issue. He slowly raised his eyelids to face what he knew would be the empty space in front him, but he was forced to take a startled step back at the proximity of the girl looking up at him with large, sapphire eyes.

" _Rose?!_ "

With trembling hands, he reached out to touch her face, to ascertain for himself that she was as real and solid as she appeared, but he faltered at her small, sharp inhalation. His breath matched hers as soft, warm palms pressed against the backs of his hands to bring his fingertips to her jaw. The angle of it was just as he remembered, her skin just as soft. She felt just as substantial beneath his fingers as she had for all his life—in his real _and_ his imaginary worlds.

"Ignis," she breathed on a soft sob, her eyes falling closed.

"How?"

Honestly, the how didn't matter. What he needed to know most of all was whether this were real or imagined—whether she could stay, or whether she would be ripped away from him yet again. He didn't believe he had the strength to say goodbye a third time. No, he wouldn't allow her to fade again; he would never let her go.

Laura tried to pull back to answer, but he slid his hands to the back of her head, spreading his fingers wide and pulling her to his chest. Swaths of her long black hair tickled at the backs of his hands as he loosened that wall he'd put up between them, but to his great fear, her spark remained feeble and weak, as it had the very first moment she'd returned to him in Altissia.

"Please . . . tell me you'll never leave." _Why can't I feel you properly?_

"I'm staying . . . as long as that's what you really want."

"Why on Eos would I not?" he asked incredulously, finally pulling back to inspect her wary expression closely, but he kept his hands intertwined at the nape of her neck to keep her from straying too far.

The spark in his mind flared a little in response. "Can I . . .?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes, of course. _Please_."

A most undignified whimper escaped from between his teeth as her golden light washed away the incessant pain and sense of incompletion, easing his bearing and filling his mind with her love.

"Do you feel it?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

He nodded, leaning down to touch his forehead to hers and closing his eyes. Behind a thick layer of nearly suffocating fear and self-doubt, something was off about her mind. Just as when she had appeared before, she felt incomplete, empty.

"You're from the past?" he asked as calmly as he could manage, but his heart filled with dread at his words. Appearing now changed nothing, then, as she still had to return to that future they had lived out together. And yet she had just promised him she would stay. "How can you remain here if we still have a future together?"

"I am from the past, yes, but we don't have a future together."

He pulled back to look at her. "I don't understand."

"Do you remember what I did to Ardyn that day on the altar in Altissia?"

If he closed his eyes, he could still hear their screams. He could still remember watching through his blurry tears as scourge dripped down her cheeks. The gold and silver light that emanated from her hands shone brighter and brighter until it washed out the memory.

"You poured almost your entire life force into his mind."

"And it was released into the Crystal upon Ardyn's passing. He's here too, you know, serving time in solitude and reflection for what he's done."

Ignis's breath caught as realization dawned on him. "You are that life force."

"Yes," she said with a grimace. "We never could have predicted something like this to happen. I only retain a memory up to the point of the battle at Altissia, and after that, only fleeting impressions of when you were in danger."

"So you're . . .," he searched for a word that wasn't as harsh as the one in his mind, but he couldn't think of anything less distressing than, "a copy?" When she flinched at the word as expected, he immediately soothed her hurt with a caress to her cheek and a wave of reassurance.

"Yes."

He pulled her close to his chest again, attempting to work out what this crawling sensation was in his heart. She was obviously real enough; it wasn't as though their bond were something that could be falsified. But how would he feel if she were to stay with him, if he were to love her as much as he had loved his first wife? Would Laura think him unfaithful for living the life this woman was offering him? She may in this very moment be off seeking alternate versions of himself, but they hadn't discussed the possibility of him finding love in the Great Beyond, as absurd a notion as that sounded even as he stood wrapped around a woman he knew wasn't technically her . . . and yet was.

"I thought the universe would end if you created copies of yourself."

"Only if I were allowed to continue traveling, as I would eventually take up the whole of the multiverse that way. But I'm trapped here in this realm forever—no TARDIS, no Eilendil, no means of moving on to the next universe."

"No means of travel, no TARDIS, equal life spans," he said thoughtfully. "This sounds awfully familiar."

"The circumstances with James? I've found that time and the laws of probability can sometimes have quite the sense of humor. But yes, I could spend eternity with you . . . if you want."

And she had stayed with his copy all those millennia ago—led a long, full, and happy life for as long as it could last—throwing herself whole-heartedly into loving him as Rose only could. Could he do the same with her? The woman before him, though missing over a century of their shared history, was still his wife in body, mind, and heart. Had Rose ever felt a moment of doubt about betraying the original Doctor's memory with James?

Laura sighed into his chest. "I don't _have_ to stay, you know, if you don't wish me to."

As he attempted to envision the outcome of sending her away, his problem was answered immediately, as the prospect of even contemplating eternity without her was unthinkable. But this self-consciousness practically seeping from her pores troubled him, as Laura had _never_ doubted his feelings for her. As he stared into her worried eyes and dragged a gentle finger across the anxiety enflaming her golden thread, the heart of the issue suddenly occurred to him.

From her perspective, he had only just screamed at her to leave. She had only just severed their bond in an attempt to save his life, and Ignis hadn't yet sufficiently voiced that he'd long ago granted her forgiveness and had sought hers in return.

And he hadn't yet expressed his joy at having her here.

"Stay, please," he whispered, leaning down so that he could breathe the words into her neck and make her shiver. "Stay by my side forever."

"Ignis," she sobbed in relief, throwing her arms over his shoulders to pull him tightly to her, but he fought her guidance in favor of retreating just enough to bring his mouth to hers. He parted her lips with his, lacing his hands through her hair as she cupped his face between her hands and drank him in.

Though he felt he could stand there in that spot wrapped around her for eternity, it occurred to him in that moment that they were still standing in the middle of the Lucian audience chamber, the newly-crowned King and Queen resting from their long and painful ordeal on their thrones above—a hardly appropriate venue for what he had in mind. It had been such a very long time indeed since he'd possessed a body this young with her by his side.

Ignis reluctantly took a step back, but he immediately reached for her hand, wrapping their forearms and entwining their fingers.

A hand to hold through eternity. He finally felt complete.

"Come," he said, leading her out the rear door as he tried to decide where in this world he would most want to take her. "Let us go and find our own adventure."

"You know I'll follow you anywhere."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

A lot of people wondered whether the bros died in the end because of their appearance in the scene with Noct. That's been refuted by SE, but I thought I would mention that they only appeared for a second. When the camera switches back, they're gone again. I feel as though it was meant to convey they were there in spirit, but I obviously changed that for this story.

The window really is still shattered in the afterlife. Apparently, no one felt like cleaning, so the damaged ghost glass and rubble remained. All the boys submitted letters to Noct in celebration of his nuptials, and some dialogue has been taken and adapted both from the official English and the English translated from Japanese.

This was to be the original ending to this story, and I was intending to write a sequel with the Ignis they had met in Cartanica, who I consider to be canon Ignis. However, that was over a year ago, when my rough draft was a paltry quarter of a million words. It turns out that writing something this size at this speed is _exhausting._ There won't be a sequel, but there will be one final chapter to this fic.


	106. Chapter 106

Ignis cocked his head, listening carefully to the long, drawn-out buzz of the line as it flew from his position roughly thirty degrees to the north northwest. _Two . . . three . . . four . . .._ Four seconds seemed an adequate distance to cast, so he felt for the handle and reeled in just enough to automatically flip the bale and halt the line's flight. He heard the satisfying plunk of the lure diving below the surface of the waves before running the tip of his finger up the line one last time to check it for soundness.

Beyond the wind blowing over his ears and the relentless heaving of waves on the sand, all was quiet, but the scent of a storm lingered the air, if he was interpreting his nose correctly. If he turned his head in the direction the sun should have been, there was no discernible change in light behind his eyelids. It must have grown dark, then. His assumption wasn't terribly alarming, even knowing that with the storm always came hordes of daemons these days. It wasn't as though the haven were a long trek from the dock.

Ignis let out a long, weary sigh and ran a hand up his bangs to ensure his wax was still doing its job despite the wind and salty sea spray misting over his face. He considered sitting down in the camp chair behind him but decided that standing and shifting from foot to foot would better ward off the chill that the wind always carried to Galdin in the afternoons. Though he longed to rub his hands together, or better yet, bury them deep in the pockets of his Crownsguard jacket, he forced himself to grow used to the sensation of numb fingers gripping the pole—since he would likely need to acclimate to holding a blade under the same circumstances as it grew even colder until Noct returned. In the meantime, he needed to spend these days regaining his independence and becoming a source of assistance rather than a burden as he overcame his . . . infirmity.

No, more than an infirmity. Disabled. The medics in Altissia had referred to him as _disabled_. Even the thought of the word turned his lips up in disgust, for no matter what label was applied to him, he refused to accept himself as such. Of course, his appearance tended to influence others around him, leading them to believe that he was helpless and required delicate treatment or soft, soothing words of comfort. Everyone seemed to lower their voice when he was nearby, or worse, suddenly be available for whatever assistance he needed despite a massive backlog of tasks. Raised as he was as a ward of the Royal Family, Ignis found the solicitude baffling and unpleasant. He wasn't accustomed to others taking his needs into consideration, making _accommodations_ for him. That would end now.

Gladio had understood his need to set out on his own, even if he didn't agree with the decision. Yet despite Ignis's polite reassurances, Prompto seemed to take his decision to leave as a personal matter. Perhaps it was. As much as he cared for them both, Ignis found he could no longer abide by them hovering behind with their fingers at his back, handing him things he was reaching for, and treating him as though he were a child about to put his hands on a hot stove. He needed this time to himself—to prove that his independence and most defining core traits hadn't been irreparably damaged by his experience.

But these last seven months since he'd been injured had proven to be the greatest struggle of his life. Ever since Altissia, it seemed that no matter what he wore or how close he sat to the fire, a tingling shiver was always shooting through his nerves, his hands and feet always on the verge of going numb. And due to what he believed to be telepathic contact with the Kings of Yore, a dull ache had settled behind his temples and taken up residence there, throbbing every now and then as he attempted to ease the tension shooting down his neck and shoulders. It hadn't lessened in the slightest since they'd returned to Lucis, and Ignis was just going to have to accept that pain would become a part of his daily struggle—likely for the rest of his life.

"Hmph," he grunted to himself, pushing those stirrings of self-pity away before they could truly develop. That was enough of _that_ self-indulgence. There was no use in dwelling on what he couldn't change; he could only master that which he could affect, which was why he was alone in Galdin in the first place. In addition to coming up with a plan for regaining his combat expertise as he re-learned day-to-day self-sufficiency, he was devoting his time to making headway in the increasingly alarming food production issue Dr. Yeagre had alerted him to upon their return. Though he'd always been fascinated with nature in all its forms, Ignis didn't consider himself a farming man, but he _did_ know a thing or two about fishing after the hours he'd spent waiting patiently behind Noct as he attempted to hook 'the Big One.'

But Noct had never been able to. That Devil of the Cygillan had always eluded him no matter how long they had stood there in the bright, hot sun, but Ignis had still appreciated the gentle, turquoise water; the bright white sand; and the need for silence that had allowed him to lose himself in his thoughts without fear of being caught with his head in the puffy white clouds above them.

Still, angling would always be Noct's favorite pastime, not his. But the idle activity not only provided him with the quiet he needed to think, it also lifted his darkened spirits somewhat, transporting him back to those brighter days when he could still see the frothy white caps on the very tips of the waves, feel the sense of freedom and adventure brewing on the horizon, and sigh exasperatedly at Noct's need for an audience.

"Ignis, step back now!"

The powerful wave of déjà vu that swept over him in that moment was certainly to blame for his hesitation in responding instantly. He knew that voice from somewhere; he was certain of it, but he didn't have the time to consider from where. A tremendous sucking sound thundered in his ears over the surf as though something enormous had heaved itself from the seawater just as he stumbled back a step. A cold, wet, and solid body nearly twice his width slapped against his head and left shoulder with incredible force, and though he scrambled to get his feet beneath him, Ignis felt himself falling below the level of the dock before hitting the freezing, churning water with a splash.

Alarm rang through his primal sense as he sightlessly, soundlessly groped his way to what his inner ear was telling him was the surface. Was whatever had shoved him off the dock even now mounting a second attack? Fortunately, the water wasn't deep so close to shore, and once his boots had found purchase beneath him, he was able to stand. His ears broke the surface of the waves to the sound of a thrashing creature headed toward him. Assuming it was his assailant approaching for another pass, he summoned a dagger to his hand and pointed it in that direction, but another swift wave slapped hard against his shoulders, forcing him to dismiss the blade before he ended up stabbing himself.

"Easy," a young woman's voice said soothingly. He felt two small, strong hands grip his right forearm tightly and hold him steady as he regained his balance. "I've got you."

Though he had already deduced the direction of the shore for himself based on the waves hitting his back, the girl turned and began leading him toward the shore as though he were an invalid.

"Would you kindly unhand me?" he demanded, pulling his elbow from her grip. "I'm more than capable of walking to shore myself. You needn't have bothered getting wet for my sake."

She dropped his arm as though it had burned her, taking a splashing step back. Ignis straightened his spine and ran a smoothing hand down the lapels of his soaked blazer as he attempted to maintain a steady gait despite the waves beating at him. The girl remained silent by his side as they slogged through the now knee-deep water, allowing the harshness of his tone to echo in his ears and weigh heavy in his chest. He'd come to tolerate assistance from Prompto—barely—in the last several months, but there had been something particularly mortifying and injurious about having to be rescued from just offshore by a complete stranger.

He let out a soft sigh as his ankles pulled free of the surf. Really though, what would he have done in her situation? Would he have stood there hoping the victim hadn't been knocked out cold from what he guessed to be a slap to the head from a giant fish? Perhaps Gladio had been right; perhaps he'd become too defensive with regard to any sort of assistance these days.

"That was terribly brusque of me; you have my apologies," he said, halting once they had walked beyond the reach of the waves. He could only imagine how sandy his shoes would be after walking across the soft sand while they were soaking wet. Eager to return to the dock so he could gather his things and spend the rest of this thoroughly unsatisfying evening cleaning up, a part of him was tempted to ask how far and in which direction the tide might have carried them, but after that uncouth display, he was loath to ask and embarrass himself again.

Instead, he softened his tone and added, "And thank you."

"You are most welcome, Ignis," she replied just as softly. From the cadence of her voice, he could easily detect her noble heritage, which seemed odd to him, as he hadn't run into anyone from the royal court in ages. Almost everyone he knew had been killed in the Fall, occupation, and infection, but this new clue possibly offered insight into the mystery of her familiarity.

"I . . . I left something on the dock," she added awkwardly, and Ignis surmised that the sound of her padded footsteps would lead him to his desired destination. He followed after her, irritably stripping off his jacket and gloves and dismissing them to his armiger to clean later.

It had taken him roughly twenty paces—just as the sound of the girl's steps on sand changed to knocking on wood—for him to realize that she'd likely added that unnecessary information for his benefit alone. Rather than taking him by the arm and leading him or asking whether he required assistance, the devious woman had managed to manipulate circumstances to his benefit, as though _knowing_ that asking her for help would bruise his pride. His guard went up immediately, as anyone who knew him that well and hadn't yet made their intentions clear wanted _something_ from him.

"Here," she said, pressing something hard and familiar into his right hand. Ignis gripped the wooden cylinder in his fingers and hefted the weight a couple of times. She'd given him his cane.

That forceful wave of familiarity crashed against him again—even more powerful than the last time. There was something desperate screaming inside him—some small voice inside him he'd only begun listening to in Cartanica—demanding that he solve this rather enticing mystery that had presented herself to him. Ignis tilted his head, angling himself downwind and inhaling inconspicuously in an attempt to catch her scent, but he found that he couldn't detect anything over the briny odor of seawater.

"Your voice, the way you say my name. You sound . . . familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Hmm," she replied amusedly, a smile creeping into her voice. "You'll want to be careful, asking me questions like that. The answers are usually vastly more complicated than anyone is prepared for."

Impatience bubbled in his chest at her insistence on playing coy, but he bit back the emotion. He'd already treated her abhorrently once in this conversation; he could forgive her impudence once or twice more before politely taking his leave—and mystery be damned. But despite his intention of maintaining a careful distance, the burning curiosity that had plagued him his entire life filled him with a desire to . . . could he truly impose upon a stranger in such an intimate fashion? He'd practiced a few times with Gladio and Prompto, convinced that it would be a necessary skill to acquire, but he'd had yet to ask this of anyone else.

As though he were being compelled by some unknown force, Ignis leaned his cane against his side and raised his hands hesitantly to the height he guessed her face to be at.

"Forgive me, this is the only way I can . . . would you be willing to indulge me in . . . ?"

Rather than immediate acquiescence, he heard a rush of breath escape her nose. Was she _snickering_ at him?!

"You know, it's funny—I was never particularly good at learning to ask the very same thing myself. It _is_ a strange experience being on the other side of the exchange for once."

"Do you _ever_ answer a question directly?" he asked exasperatedly as he began to lower his hands, but he heard her quick intake of breath and felt two soft palms settle over the backs of his fingers. Like his own, they were wet, but oddly warm and very gentle as they pressed his hands to either side of her fine-boned jaw.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm . . . it's been a very long time, but I'm still not quite myself yet. But at the same time, I'm so very glad to see you."

Without replying, he carefully grazed his fingertips over the angles of her face—her pointed chin with its slightly squared-off edge, the sharp line of her jaw, her high cheekbones. Her skin felt flawless beneath the sensitive pads of his fingers, tight and perfectly smooth, but he was grateful not to hear in her voice or feel in her expression the flinch he'd often heard in the voices of so many others when they said the word 'see' in his presence.

His hands were at her temples when he felt her eyes fall closed, and he decided to throw caution to the wind—feathering his thumbs over the very tips of her thick lashes, down the column of her nose, and across the very edge of her lower lip. He could feel it fall ever so slightly at his touch, as well as her sharp intake of breath as the air rushed past the pad of his thumb through her parted lips. Her skin grew warmer under his hands, and his middle fingers, which rested near the pulse points at her neck, registered the quickening of her already racing heart.

Ignis felt himself grow somewhat breathless as he catalogued the symptoms of what he could only assume to be her arousal at his touch, and he pulled back abruptly when he felt his cheeks grow hot. It was only once he'd taken a step back to put some distance between them that he registered her last words.

"You said, 'glad to see me,' so I _do_ know you. Please tell me who you are."

"I wasn't lying when I said that was a vastly complicated question, you know," she said with a chuckle. He felt that familiar sharp edge of irritation growing in his chest again, but he froze when he felt her lean in close, her warm breath tickling at his left ear.

"Trust your heart, Ignis. It knows the answer," she whispered, barely audible over the sound of the crashing waves, but the words may as well have been a gunshot to his chest.

Ignis staggered back a step, flailing as his heel met thin air. Two hands fumbled over his chest for a moment as he attempted to regain his balance before fisting in his shirt and yanking him roughly forward.

"Sorry," she said, immediately letting go and taking a step back. "I thought you might appreciate not having to go for another swim."

"You!" he gasped. "You're the woman from Cartanica. Who _are_ you?"

Though he couldn't be certain whether due to general trauma or the specific nature of his injuries, events in Altissia had grown hazy to the point where he wasn't entirely certain which had been real and which had been imagined. He'd intended to address the vision he'd had of Noct during this planning time—to take whatever steps necessary to keep it from becoming reality whether he had dreamed the scenes or not. He'd grown rather fond of the lad over the course of their journey—even proud—as Noct slowly began transforming into the king Ignis had always believed him capable of being, and he would not see Noct sacrifice himself for their sakes if there was any other way.

But the golden voice in his head was another matter. Had that been real, or merely his mind's method for handling the pain of his immolation? He had connected the woman he'd seen in Cartanica with the gold at the time, but as he'd sat idly helpless in the midst of a sea of human misery in Tenebrae, he began to question even that encounter. At the time, he had thought her a Messenger of Shiva, sent to him to suggest that he could still be of some use, but then they'd met Shiva shortly afterward in Ghorovas and learned that her Messenger had been Gentiana all along. He wasn't certain of anything anymore, except that whether real or imagined, his golden goddess was the reason he was here in Galdin Quay—because he was determined to earn back that usefulness and help Noct see this through. He would prove to Noct—and to himself—that they hadn't made the wrong decision in allowing him to continue on.

"Even knowing that much, the answer is still complicated," the woman replied. "My name is Laura."

He tried to recall her face to accompany the sound her voice and her name but could only conjure a vague impression of dark hair and sapphire eyes.

"That's not enough information," he snapped in frustration. "Let's begin with your full name, if you please."

She chuckled, disturbing that sea of annoyance thrashing in his chest. "Would you strangle me if I told you even _that_ much was complicated?"

" . . . No, but I must warn you that at this point, I am _not_ beyond threatening you with a blade."

Her resulting laughter startled him—clear and joyous and uninhibited in a way he hadn't heard from anyone in what felt like a lifetime. Warmth rushed from his head to the tips of his fingers despite standing there in the freezing wind dripping seawater onto the boards beneath his flooded, sandy shoes. Perhaps he was being fanciful, but he thought it might have been worth every moment of irritation with her if he could make her laugh like that again.

"Well, don' say I didn' warn ya," she finished on an almost contented sigh. "M' full name's Rose Marion Laurelín Tildari Haránathat Ni'annen Tyler . . . Scientia."

Well, it was no wonder she had led off with simply 'Laura.'

All thought ceased for several seconds as he stood there and gaped at her. As far as he knew, he had no family in these parts . . . well, any parts, really. With his uncle dead and his parents daemonized, there were no Scientias left in Lucis that he knew of. Yet given that she knew his name and the significance of her own last name in that mouthful she had just given him, she had to be claiming herself a relative of his . . . which was impossible, as he was certain after the events of Cartanica that she was a goddess of one sort or another.

His only chance of regaining his dignity in this absurd conversation was to remain silent and hope she explained further. Laura seemed to sense his wish, because she added unhelpfully, "Once upon a time, in a universe far away, I was your wife."

"I—you—what?"

He would have automatically dismissed her as a raving lunatic or a devious con artist were it not for the deep sense in his heart that she was familiar to him. Real or imagined, her golden aura had guided him through the darkest parts of his journey thus far. The notion that she was from an alternate universe wasn't the part of her declaration that he found unbelievable—he'd read his fair share of science fiction, and he'd certainly encountered enough of the fantastical during this journey to know that there were greater wonders on heaven and eos than mortal man could even begin to contemplate. No—what he found to be unbelievable was the claim that any version of him had married literal divinity after all he had experienced of the gods.

When he had lived in Insomnia, Ignis had ignored the matter of companionship entirely, citing to himself that he held out because he had no need to prove his masculine superiority to anyone and that he would prefer to wait for someone extraordinary. If he were being honest with himself, his devotion to his duty would have proven him to be completely hopeless at romance, and he certainly had no wish to be faced with the reality of his own ineptitude. Out on the road, however, he'd permitted himself a little more freedom to follow the winding paths his curiosity had led him down—within reason and when he could maintain his privacy, of course. Ignis had discovered that he enjoyed sex as one would a glass of wine—pleasurable, obviously, as human evolution had intended—but without the emotional connection, he hadn't experienced that all-consuming desire that men like Gladio obsessed over. Perhaps he was incapable.

Could some version of him have found such a connection with this woman that he would have wanted to keep her by his side forever? Was it even possible?

He heard the rustle of wet clothing and the sound of a step taken away from him. She couldn't leave yet!

Reaching out to grope for her elbow, he pleaded, "Please, don't go. I need to know about Cartanica."

Her warm hand settled over his, rubbing at his knuckles in a gesture he found both comforting and yet far more intimate than he was expecting.

"I'm not going anywhere, believe me. I've come a very long way to see you," she replied, and the reassurance of her words allowed him to release his breath and relax the tension tightening his shoulders. "I was just wondering—are you staying at the haven, the camper, or the hotel?"

"The haven."

"Figures."

If she knew him as well as she claimed, then she likely understood that he'd wanted to make things as difficult as possible for himself—for the initial challenge and so that getting by in a more civilized setting would seem effortless afterward. Keeping clean and odor-free had been an absolute nightmare this past week with the storms constantly rolling through the area. He swore the entire haven was permanently bathed in the faint scent of mildew—but it had forced him to learn exactly what he'd wished to.

"All right, then here's what I propose we do," she said commandingly, her tone reminding him with some amusement of the more senior members of the Lucian Council. "You pack up your things here, and we'll go to the haven. You're going to change into some dry clothes while I make you a fabulous meal and a cup of coffee to get you warmed up, and then I have a very, very long story to tell. Afterward, I'll have a proposition for you. Sound good?"

"I'll not be nursed," he said in a clipped tone, even as his mouth watered at the mere suggestion of hot food, and especially coffee. He hadn't encountered coffee in the world in months.

Though it would be best if she cooked for the two of them, as his blistered and burned hands held testament that his skills were still barely passable for his own standards, they had already run up against the very reason he had left Gladio and Prompto in the first place. How was he to learn if someone was always following behind mollycoddling him? Was he doomed to live out the rest of his life with everyone assuming he couldn't manage the most basic functions of self-sufficiency?

He swore he had pulled the image of her sharp frown from his imagination, but it seemed to shimmer in front of his mind's eye as though he'd seen it a thousand times before.

"I know damn well you won't be," she shot back with just as much heat. "You know, this conversation would be a lot more pleasant if you assumed that the things I do for you are out of kindness and not pity. Believe me, if you take me up on my offer, you're going to wonder how in the world you ever thought it possible that I could pity you."

"I suppose," he said on a defeated sigh, "I'm going to tire of apologizing to you."

She snorted. " _If_ an apology were necessary, that wouldn't be considered one, but next time, why don't you trust my intentions and actually wait for me to commit offense before snapping at me? Trust me—even if this were a completely normal evening between two completely undamaged individuals, I would still be here taking care of you."

He was done being cared for, but she _was_ right about one thing: he would wait for her to commit offense before going on the defensive. Swallowing his desire to retort, he turned to feel for his camp chair and gear. Once he had dismissed what he could with his limited access to the armiger and slung the rest into a knapsack over his shoulder, he paused near where he had left her standing and held out his elbow. It was ridiculous to think she would take it. After all, she could get them there with greater ease than he. But he felt her arm wrap around his nevertheless.

"Mmm," she hummed contentedly as he began leading her in the direction of the haven. He noted with gratitude that she remained the slightest bit behind him to send a clear signal that she was making no attempt to drag him off in the right direction. How long had it been since he'd spent time in the company of someone who thought him truly capable? Not since Altissia.

"Fate has not been kind to you," she said as though reading his thoughts, "yet your soul remains as gentle as ever."

"Not so gentle," he said with the slightest bite to his tone, reminding her that damaged goods or not, he would not allow her to take advantage of him.

"Believe me. I know."

He felt the warmth of her body settle into his bones and wondered exactly what on Eos he had just gotten himself into. It seemed that after knowing her for mere minutes, some deep, instinctual part of him had already decided that he would follow her anywhere.

* * *

 _Come away, O human child!_

 _To the waters and the wild_

 _With a faery, hand in hand,_

 _For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

"Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the sea comes the end of our fellowship in [Eos.] Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil." Actually, I'm not sure which is more appropriate at this point. Gandalf's words of farewell are sentimental, but I feel a bit like falling into a shower of magical sparks and whispering into the void that remains, "It's finally over."

It's been an amazing year getting to know the incredible people in this fandom. I want to extend the most heartfelt thank you to all those who have read, left kudos, or commented. Your support has been much appreciated during this long process! I would also like to thank the incredible r/FFXV Discord Server, whose discussions on lore, character, worldbuilding, and plot have made this story a thousand times more complex than it would have been otherwise. The moderators OS and BA have been incredible in helping me sort out the myriad facts, discrepancies, and ideas; this story would not be what it is without the time they have so generously spent answering my questions. Nightyswolf has endured my long rants and wild theories as I painfully pieced this entire thing together, and has created some incredible mods and renders for this story that have continued to inspire me. Thank you, everyone!

I'm not the sort of person to have a ton of ideas and create a thousand stories, so the chances of this being my last in this fandom are pretty high, even if I'm still around. _However_ , there are about 10,000 flaws in the writing and the story itself that need correcting—remember I'm still a novice writer! I have about 8 pages of bullet points to add for lines, references, things that need improving, and additional cut content I learned about later on. My point is that I intend to go back over this entire story. Though the plot itself won't change, I hope to take my time, add deeper dimensions to the brothers' relationships, make some things clearer and some things more subtle, rewrite the parts that make me cringe. I won't be taking the story down, but if you come back in a year, you might find it changed, with even new chapters added. You'll know when I'm completely finished if I've taken this note down.

Until then, let me know what you thought and drop me a line! Farewell!


End file.
